What is she like, Rafael?’
‘Like you,’ he said, wishing he could not hear the raw longing in her voice. Conscious of a male voice in the background, sharp with concern he added quickly, ‘She was going to crash the party.’ The ease with which he had diverted her had made Rafael think that the timing of her arrival might after all have been fortuitous—from her point of view—rather than malicious.
Malicious or not, the effect would have been equally destructive. He did not regret his actions and the necessary subterfuge. This was definitely a moment when the ends justified the means.
‘I’m playing it by ear,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t think she knows who I am.’
A man who believed in meticulous research, Rafael did not enjoy the novel sensation of working in the dark.
If he’d had a detailed report on his laptop telling him everything that was relevant about Miss Maggie Ward, he would have been much happier. At the moment all he knew about her was that she had a lopsided smile, a husky voice, a mouth that invited sinful speculation and a lush distracting body—and she liked paella.
‘If the opportunity arises and she feels able to confide in me I will do my best to convince her this is a bad move, but that’s a long shot,’ he admitted, thinking of the stubborn firmness of her rounded chin. ‘You should tell Alfonso sooner rather than later. I’m sorry, Angelica, it was bad advice.’
He slid the phone into his pocket as a breathless and happy Maggie was delivered by a smug-looking Enrique back to the table.
Maggie, her face flushed from the exertion and her eyes sparkling, smiled as the young man spoke, then looked to Rafael.
‘What did he say?’ Without waiting for the translation she caught Enrique’s hand and flashed a smile of radiant warmth, then, appearing oblivious to the effect it had on the susceptible boy, said, ‘That was fantastic. You’re a great dancer, but I’m worn out,’ she added, fanning herself with her hand and miming a faint.
The young man raised her hand to his lips and spoke again.
‘He said that you not only look beautiful but you dance beautifully too.’
‘Oh, how sweet!’ Maggie said raising herself on her tiptoes to reach up to plant a kiss on the young man’s smooth cheek. She turned her head to Rafael, her smile fading as she encountered his stony expression. ‘Tell him thank you.’
‘He already got that part.’ A nerve clenched in his lean cheek as Rafael sought to contain the irrational surge of anger that he had experienced when he had watched her kiss the boy.
‘I think he’s smitten.’
Maggie’s eyes narrowed and her chin lifted at the cold criticism in his manner. She refused point-blank to allow him to make her feel guilty for a spontaneous peck on the cheek, it had just been innocent fun and even if it hadn’t been it was none of his business!
It wasn’t as if he had wanted to dance with her. Now that, she admitted, would have been a very different experience and not nearly so innocent.
‘That’s because I’m utterly irresistible, a real man-eater.’
Rafael said something that drew a laugh from the young man who caught Maggie’s hand, bowed low over it and brushed it with his lips. Then with a grin and a display of youthful exuberance he ran off to be clapped on the shoulder by his friends before claiming his next partner.
Antipathy shone in Maggie’s eyes as she took her seat next to Rafael. Choosing water rather than wine, she filled her glass from one of the jugs on the table.
He raised a brow at her choice and taunted lightly, ‘The vintage not to your palate?’ The locally made wine, thanks to some clever marketing, had actually started to appear on a number of high-end restaurant wine lists, and his investment in the new winery that many had considered wasteful had not only already paid for itself but brought jobs to an area where young people were often forced to leave in order to find work.
‘You’re not drinking,’ Maggie observed, unwilling to admit she had no head for alcohol—a sniff of a wine gum made her tipsy.
‘I’m driving.’
The reminder made her frown. ‘What time is it?’
He extended his arm towards her; his sleeve was rolled up to the elbow. Maggie stared for a moment, her throat dry and her heart pounding as she struggled to resist the impulse to run her fingers over the hair that lightly dusted his sinewed golden forearm.
Her voice was husky as she read the time on the metal-banded watch that circled his wrist out loud.
‘It’s a long way back,’ she fretted.
Rafael watched as she nibbled gently at the pouting curve of her full lower lip. This had never been about seduction…but he found himself wanting her more than he had wanted a woman in a very long time.
‘Don’t look so worried—I am a man who believes that a woman is allowed to change her mind.’ This was an attitude that had rarely been tested.
The colour flew to Maggie’s cheeks. ‘About what?’
He just laughed. ‘It’s fine if you have second thoughts,’ he observed not in reality feeling at all fine as he looked at her lovely mouth. His glance slid lower to the outline of her lush breasts beneath the fine fabric of her top, and he felt even less fine.
He felt hungry.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved by his take-it-or-leave-it attitude or insulted.
Had she changed her mind?
Did she have a mind? Now the initial defiant mood had ebbed, allowing herself to be picked up by a total stranger had started to seem less spontaneous and more criminally reckless.
And if she felt this way when the music was playing and the moon was shining how was she going to feel in the morning? she asked herself.
There had to be a less dramatic way to shake her sensible girl image. Next time she would settle for something tamer, like a motorbike or tattoos.
‘I will make sure you get safely back.’ Maggie’s eyes connected with his and her stomach went into a lurching dive. There was nothing safe about the glow in his smoky eyes. ‘But what,’ he asked, tilting his chair back to avoid a collision with some passing dancers, ‘is the hurry?’
Enrique called out and winked at her as he whirled his new partner past.
‘What did you say to him before?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘Were you talking about me?’
‘I simply translated.’
Maggie replayed the conversation and her eyes widened in dismay. ‘You didn’t!’
One corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking smile. ‘Actually I gave him a modified version—I told him that you eat little boys like him for breakfast.’
‘What if he thought you were serious?’ she charged.
His eyes dropped and Maggie was shocked
