particularly, but at least she hadn’t had that hideous recurring nightmare. ‘Like a log,’ she said, mustering up what she hoped might pass for a smile and feeling faintly glad there were no small children around to scare. ‘You?’
‘Beautifully.’
‘How’s the head?’
‘Much better.’
That was one less thing on her conscience at least. ‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘It had more to do with paracetamol than goodness, but it’s fine.’ His gaze shifted to her suitcase and he arched an eyebrow. ‘Going somewhere?’
Nicky bit back a sarcastic comment about his spectacular powers of observation because her frame of mind this morning was hardly his fault, and settled for the more boring but less offensive truth. ‘The airport.’
‘Oh?’ he said mildly. ‘Why?’
For a moment she just stared at him. Why? Why? Had a good night’s sleep somehow wiped the previous evening’s events from his memory? ‘Because I don’t fancy the long drive home,’ she said, this time unable to hold back the sarcasm.
Rafael merely shrugged and grinned. ‘Then stay.’
Nicky went still and blinked down at him, confusion stabbing at her brain. Maybe she’d misheard him or something. Or maybe she was hallucinating, conjuring up the words simply because she wanted to hear them. Whether she’d misheard or was imagining things, she definitely had the sensation that she’d woken up in some kind of parallel universe, because the Rafael who was leaning nonchalantly against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest and smiling up at her, bore little resemblance to the extremely grouchy man she’d met yesterday. That one had looked as if he just wanted her gone, so who was this one who was now suggesting she stay?
‘What?’ she said weakly, as a tiny ray of hope that she might not have to leave after all flickered through her bewilderment.
‘Stay.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘Really.’
The hope surged for a second and then stopped, hovered, and, because such good fortune didn’t happen to her these days, the cynicism that was never far away swooped down and crushed it.
Nicky frowned and narrowed her eyes. Such a volte-face? Just like that? She didn’t think so. ‘Why?’
Rafael lifted his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean why?’
‘Last night I rather got the impression I wasn’t very welcome.’
‘No, but then you’d just hit me over the head. I wasn’t in a very hospitable mood.’
She tilted her head and shot him a sceptical look. ‘But this morning you are?’
‘Apparently so.’
‘Have you spoken to Gaby?’ If Gaby had told him why she was here, then maybe he’d changed his mind out of pity.
‘No. I tried, but her phone was off.’
‘I didn’t have any luck either,’ she said, mightily relieved that Rafael didn’t know the truth because the last thing she wanted was pity. ‘She seems to have gone AWOL.’
‘Probably sensible given the conversations I imagine she can expect.’
‘Probably.’
There was a pause, then he said, ‘So would you like to stay or not?’
Nicky bit her lip and scoured his face, but found nothing there to suggest he was anything other than one hundred per cent serious. She saw nothing but warmth in the depths of his eyes and in his smile, and felt a reciprocal stab of warmth in the pit of her stomach. Totally unexpected and alien, but so welcome it gave her the strength to push the cynicism aside for once.
Oh, what was the point of dithering any longer? Of course she was going to stay. There was trying to do the right thing and then there was being a stubborn idiot. Besides, she could stand there and try and figure out Rafael’s motivations for hours, but she doubted she’d ever succeed and frankly she didn’t have the energy for it.
And anyway, did it really matter why he’d changed his mind? No. All that mattered was that he was offering her the lifeline she hadn’t realised she so badly needed until it looked as if it had gone, and she’d be a fool not to grab it with both hands.
‘Are you sure I won’t be a bother?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘In that case,’ she said, feeling the beginnings of what she thought might be the first genuine smile to curve her mouth in months, ‘I’d be delighted.’
In his conviction that sharing his house with Nicky would present no problem he’d been one hundred per cent right, thought Rafael as he lit the barbecue later that evening. Handling his house guest and, more importantly, his response to her, was simply a question of remaining in control, and so far he’d been doing splendidly.
He could easily have let himself be swayed by the glorious sight of her on the landing this morning, but had he? No, he had not. He’d been ice cool. Unflappable. And as strong and steady as the Rock of Gibraltar that reared out of the sea a hundred kilometres to the south.
The flash of heat that had shot through him when he’d clapped eyes on her striding along and dragging her suitcase behind her, looking strangely and grimly determined, was merely down to the sky-high temperatures of Andalucia in August. Never mind that the sun had only been up for half an hour; the heat started early down here.
Throughout their subsequent conversation his grip on his self-control had only got firmer.
He’d barely noticed that her strapless dress was the exact colour of her eyes, clung to her curves and showed off inches of flawless skin. He’d paid no attention whatsoever to the way the sun pouring in through the window behind her rendered the skirt of her dress practically transparent and revealed the legs that had featured so prominently in his dreams.
When she’d slid her gaze to his temple and asked him how it was the sensation that he could somehow feel her fingers sifting through his hair again had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. When he’d watched her nibble on that lip of hers and had felt a sharp twist of his stomach, it had had more to do with a hunger for breakfast than that of any other kind.
And if, when she’d agreed to stay and flashed him that sudden dazzling smile, he’d thought he’d gone momentarily blind, it was undoubtedly down to more of the eye-wateringly bright sunshine spilling in through the window.
Even now, with her sitting at the wrought iron table on the terrace, wearing a halter-neck dress that gave her a cleavage like the Desfiladero de los Gaitanes gorge he’d abseiled down last summer and the scent that had so intoxicated him last night, he was utterly unfazed. The tiny nick he’d given his finger when she’d tasted the wine and let out a soft
