he might be expert in.
‘I find dancing is much improved if you move your feet,’ he said, drawing her close. ‘Just a suggestion, Maxie.’
‘Of course.’
She would dance one dance with Diego and then sit down. There were so many people dancing between the tables that with any luck he would give up and she could start breathing evenly again. But somehow the dancers managed to avoid each other, and Diego was more intuitive than most. Of course he was, Maxie reasoned, fighting her body’s best attempt to melt against him. Diego was an international sportsman whose life revolved around second-guessing the competition. Now, if she could just concentrate instead of being distracted by erotic images bombarding her brain she might even be able to move her feet in time to the music…
When the dance ended she was reluctant to leave Diego’s embrace. All the more reason to pull herself together, she concluded, heading back to the table. ‘This has been excellent research,’ she informed him as he sat down. ‘I think we should have dancing at the charity event.’
‘Really?’ Diego murmured. ‘What an original idea. Somehow I expected better of you, Maxie.’ After a moment, he added, ‘So, what did you buy to wear tonight?’
‘I bought a dress in the market.’
He seemed surprised.
‘It was pretty and I liked it. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I’m just surprised you didn’t find anything in the shops where I dropped you off.’
She had no intention of reliving how embarrassing her experience in the upscale part of town had been.
‘Maxie?’ Diego prompted.
‘If you must know, I wasn’t joking when I told you they wouldn’t serve me.’
‘Honestly?’ Diego sat back. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Only because it would never happen to you.’
He frowned. ‘But why wouldn’t they serve you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Maxie admitted. ‘I can’t think of anything other than the way I’m dressed.’
‘Or maybe it’s the slogan on your T-shirt?’ Diego suggested, his dark eyes glittering. ‘“Drama Queen”? That’s hardly you, is it, Maxie?’
‘It’s supposed to be ironic.’ She lasted a moment and then began to laugh.
Diego wasn’t smiling. ‘The people in those shops need a wake-up call,’ he said, standing up.
‘Where are you going now?’
‘To put a few people straight.’
‘There are worse things in life than assistants who don’t want to assist.’
‘They are being paid to help customers find what they are looking for,’ Diego argued, ‘Even if that customer is a drama queen,’ he added dryly. ‘Come on,’ he insisted, holding out his hand. ‘I’m taking you shopping.’
* * *
Diego’s approach to shopping was masculine and methodical, and while the usually meticulous Maxie would accept she was better known for her bemused dawdle when it came to choosing clothes, she was content to let Diego take the lead on this occasion. He was stopped every five minutes and asked for his autograph, which he always gave with a smile, good grace and a few kind words, and when they entered one of the high-class stores where Maxie had been ignored, far from seeing a shortage of assistants, they were mobbed.
‘Just have everything sent over,’ Diego stated on each occasion. ‘My friend needs time to make her selection.’
Maxie’s eyes widened. She did? Everything Diego had picked out looked fabulous to her, and there were mountains of clothes awaiting her perusal. He didn’t even need to pay, because everyone knew him and said she could have the clothes on sale or return.
‘The items the señorita has selected will be despatched immediately by special courier,’ they were assured in every shop.
And the clothes just kept on coming—shoes, bags, the most outrageous lingerie—and all of it would be waiting for them when they returned to the apartment.
‘How can they be back before we are?’ Maxie reasoned out loud when she remembered the speed at which Diego drove.
‘If we beat them back we won’t buy,’ he said, and with such charm that the shop assistants were still swooning when they walked out of the shop.
‘So that’s how it’s done,’ Maxie remarked when they were back in the Ferrari. ‘I should have taken you shopping with me in the first place.’
‘I’m always available.’
Really? Somehow she doubted that. Maxie exhaled shakily as Diego removed the sunglasses from the top of his head and settled them in place. How far had she strayed from her businesslike brief now? ‘You must tell me how much I owe you.’
‘Nothing as yet.’
‘But I have to pay my debts.’
‘And I wouldn’t have it any other way, señorita,’ Diego assured her with a grin.
As he released the brake and eased into the evening traffic he couldn’t remember enjoying himself so much for a long time. He couldn’t bear injustice. Especially where Maxie was concerned, Diego realised, resting his chin on his arm when they got snarled up in traffic. He flexed his leg, which now felt better than ever. Who deserved spoiling more than Maxie? If it hadn’t been for that Parrish shadow hanging over them…
‘Problem?’ she said when he frowned.
He relaxed back in his seat. ‘Traffic.’
He was a simple man. All he asked was to be match-fit and for people to be honest with him. Trust was paramount to him. After the investment disaster trust mattered to him even more. Thinking back to the trust Nacho had placed in him, he realised he only associated with people he could rely on these days.
And Maxie?
He grimaced as he shifted position. Could he trust her? Who was Maxie Parrish? Who did he know who didn’t talk about their family? What was she hiding? Maxie’s explanation that he’d grown up in a crowd didn’t wash. Surely everyone was proud of their family, even if they had one parent and no siblings. What was the difference? Family was family.
‘You are preoccupied,’ she remarked.
They had stopped in more traffic, which had given the old guilt plenty of time to wash over him. The more he enjoyed himself with Maxie, the more he remembered the friend who was dead—the friend who should be out with a girl now, having fun. The friend who should be laughing and loving instead of rotting in his grave—a grave Diego had helped to put him in. Peter Parrish had also played a part in it. No wonder he was preoccupied.
They drew to a halt outside
