going to win Rico’s approval, Maria, but I believe we can make great television together.’
‘What have you been telling this young woman, malvado?’ Maria demanded, turning her powerful stare on him.
‘Nothing. If you want to dance and she wants to cook, that’s fine by me. Only problem is, we know you can dance.’
‘Rico!’ Maria frowned at him.
‘My third television series says I can cook!’
‘There—you see, Rico,’ Maria said, smiling at Zoë.
‘And the connection between dancing and cooking is what, exactly?’ He raised his shoulders in a shrug as he stared at Zoë.
He would never go for her idea, but at least she had Maria’s support. She had to forget Rico’s insults and build on what she had. But he was one complication she could do without. He probably crooked his finger and every woman around came running. Well, not this woman.
Turning to Maria, Zoë deliberately cut him out. ‘This is the connection, Maria: the people around me inspire the food I cook on television. In this part of Spain the influence of flamenco is everywhere.’
‘So cooking isn’t just a hobby for you?’ Rico said.
Zoë stared up at him. He refused to be cut out. ‘No, Rico, it’s a full-time career for me.’
‘Along with your television company.’
Maria stepped between them again. ‘So you would like me to dance on your television programme to add some local interest to the dishes you prepare? Is that right, Zoë?’
‘Exactly.’ Zoë’s face was confident as she flashed a glance at Rico. ‘I’ll cook, you’ll dance, and together we’ll make a great team.’
‘Bueno,’ Maria said approvingly. ‘I like the sound of this programme of yours. Of course, any payment must be donated to the village funds.’
‘Absolutely,’ Zoë agreed. ‘Whatever you like.’
Maria smiled. ‘Well, that all sounds quite satisfactory to me.’
But not to Rico, Zoë thought. At least he was silent for now. ‘I have never seen anyone dance like you, Maria. You are fantastic.’
‘Gracias, Zoë. And you are very kind.’
‘Not kind, Maria, just honest.’ Zoë stopped, hearing Rico’s scornful snort in the background. What did she have to do to convince him?
She turned to look at him coldly. There were a couple of buttons undone at the neck of his dark linen shirt, showing just how tanned and firm he was. She turned back quickly to Maria. ‘When you appear, I just know the programme will come to life…’ Zoë’s voice faded. She could feel Rico’s sexual interest lapping over her in waves.
‘Don’t worry, Zoë,’ Maria assured her, filling the awkward silence. ‘It will be fine—just you wait and see.’
Zoë wasn’t so sure, and she was glad of Maria’s arm linked through her own as the older woman drew her away from Rico, towards the bright circle of light around the campfire.
‘Have you offered Zoë a drink?’ Maria said, turning back to him.
‘She’s had more than enough to drink already.’
‘Surely you didn’t let her drink the village liquor?’
‘It’s all right, Maria,’ Zoë said hastily. She could see the hard-won progress she had made winning Maria’s trust vanishing in the heat of a very Latin exchange. ‘Thank you for the kind offer, but I’ve already had some coffee.’
Rico was staring at her almost as if he was trying to remember why she made him so uneasy. But they couldn’t have met before. And he couldn’t know about her past; she was anonymous in the mountains. Television reception was practically non-existent, and there were no tabloid papers on sale at the kiosk in the village.
‘So, Zoë, when do I dance for you?’ Maria said, reclaiming Zoë’s attention.
‘How about Tuesday?’ Zoë said, turning back to thoughts of work with relief. ‘That gives us both time to prepare.’
‘Tuesday is good for me.’ Maria smiled broadly as she broke away. ‘On Tuesday you cook, and I dance.’
‘Are you sure you know what you’re taking on, Zoë?’
Rico’s words put a damper on their enthusiasm.
‘Why? Don’t you think I’m up to it?’
‘It’s what you’re up to that I’m more interested in.’
‘Then you’re going to have a very dull time of it,’ Zoë assured him. ‘I’m going to cook and Maria is going to dance. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it really is as simple as that.’
‘In my experience, nothing is ever that simple.’
Zoë’s gaze strayed to his lips: firm, sensuous lips that never grew tired of mocking her.
‘Today is Saturday—no, Sunday already,’ Maria said with surprise, staring at her wristwatch. ‘It is well past midnight. I have kept you far too long, Zoë.’
‘That’s not important,’ Zoë assured Maria, turning to her with relief. ‘All that matters is that you’re happy—you’re the most important person now. I want to make sure you have everything you need on the night of your performance.’
‘Such as?’ Maria said.
‘Well—would you like to eat before or after you dance?’
‘Both. I need to build up my strength.’ She winked at Zoë. ‘Some people don’t need to build up strength, of course.’ She shot a glance at Rico. ‘But you had better feed him anyway. I’m sure he’d like that.’
‘I’m sure he would.’ Zoë’s gaze veered coolly in Rico’s direction. She might find him a few sour grapes.
‘Don’t take me for granted, Zoë,’ he said, ‘I might not even be there.’
‘Don’t worry, Rico. Where you’re concerned I won’t take anything for granted. I’ll expect you at the castle around nine?’ she confirmed warmly with Maria.
‘And I will dance for your cameras at midnight.’
Zoë felt a rush of pleasure not even Rico could spoil. She had accomplished her mission successfully, and there was a bonus—she had made a new friend in Maria. She just knew Maria would have what they called ‘screen magic’, and the programme in which she featured would be unique.
‘Rico, would you make sure that everyone in the village knows they are welcome to come and eat at Castillo Cazulas and celebrate Maria’s performance on Tuesday night?’ Zoë said, turning to him.
For a moment
