into any conversation with a dippy blonde who had managed to stray out of her depth. He opened his mouth to tell her politely, but firmly, that it was time for her to leave.
‘Why do you say that?’ he heard himself ask and she shot him a wide, infectious grin.
‘Because I do a similar sort of thing and I certainly don’t have the great perks that you do.’
‘You’re a…gardener?’
‘Caterer.’
‘And catering is similar to gardening?’
‘Well, we both work with our hands and are creative with it…so, yes…pretty much, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘I can’t say that there’s anything creative about gardening.’
Amy looked at him in surprise. Again, she was struck by the force of his physical presence, which, she told herself with a little inner laugh, was just silly. ‘Then why do you do it?’
Rafael gave an impatient shrug and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Look. I’ve humoured you by letting you in and you now know why I’m here. So time for you to go and I’d appreciate it if you could keep my presence here to yourself.’
‘Because…?’
‘Because I don’t want to be overrun by James’s house guests when I’m trying to do my job.’
‘You’re on first names with your boss? Hmm.’ She thought about it for a few seconds, then her face softened. ‘Not surprising really.’
‘What’s not surprising?’ Rafael frowned. ‘No. Forget I said that. Have a good time here. I’m sure you will. It’s a beautiful place. Lots to do and explore if you choose to leave the house and pool.’
He began walking towards the door, not giving her time to continue with her relentless chatter.
‘Do you realise we haven’t even exchanged names?’ Amy said, sticking out her hand. ‘I’m Amy.’
‘Why should we have exchanged names?’ He pulled open the door and stood back, sticking one hand in the pocket of his cream Bermuda shorts.
Even at night, the temperatures meant that shorts and tee shirts could be comfortably worn. For Rafael, who lived most of his life in his tailored, handmade suits, a pair of shorts and a faded tee shirt constituted the highest form of luxury.
‘That’s very rude.’ Amy withdrew her hand and pulled herself up so that she could fix him with a gimlet eye.
‘What’s very rude? You know what? I’m not really all that interested anyway.’ Outside, in the balmy air, a very gentle breeze lifted the breathtakingly blonde curls and made them dance.
‘I don’t care whether you’re interested or not! I’m going to tell you anyway! It’s rude to look at someone as though they’ve got a contagious disease when they’re doing nothing more than attempting to introduce themselves! If you don’t want to tell me your name, then that’s fine! It’s no skin off my nose! It’s not as though I’m—’
‘Rafael.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Rafael. My name is Rafael Vives.’ He held out his hand and as Amy took it she felt a strange quiver of awareness dart its way through her body like a sudden, unexpected jolt of electricity, then the feeling was gone.
‘I’m Amy.’ As quickly as her temper had surfaced, it was gone. Anger was something she had never been able to hold onto for very long. ‘Rafael…unusual name…Is it…what? Italian?’
‘Spanish,’ Rafael said abruptly. ‘Will you be able to find your way back to the house?’
‘Oh, yes? How did a Spanish gardener come to be working in America?’ She fished into a pocket, pulled out an elastic band and expertly tied her hair back into a loose pony tail.
‘Buy yourself a potted history guide book, speed read it and you’ll discover how we Spaniards managed to find our way over here. Now off you go.’
‘You’re very arrogant, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, I am, and now that we’ve cleared that up you can be on your way.’
To his relief she took the hint and for a few seconds he watched her head off, pause, glance around her, head off, but this time in a different direction. Her antics would have been amusing had he not known that sooner or later he would have to point her in the right direction. The grounds to the house were extensive and the verdant lawns were interspersed with grassy dunes and dense trees. There was even a tiered pond with a waterfall set in richly colourful gardens. When you knew the property, you knew easily how to find your way around, but to the uninitiated it could be bewildering, especially in the dark. And the guest cottage, which had been indeed built to house the head of the domestic staff when the house had been fully utilised, was not easy to find.
With a deeply impatient sigh, Rafael fetched the key, slammed the door behind him and caught up with her as she veered off on her fourth aborted attempt to locate the right way back.
He circled his hand around her arm and ushered her in the opposite direction.
‘Good God, woman! Where’s your sense of direction?’
‘I would have found my way eventually! And do you mind letting me go? You’re not a policeman and I’m not under arrest!’
‘I’m just making sure that I get you off my property!’
‘Your property? That’s a bit rich considering you’re only the gardener! I know the gardens are unusually big so you must be an unusually important gardener, but hey! You’re just still a gardener!’
‘Do you ever shut up?’ Rafael muttered under his breath.
‘Are you ever polite?’ He still had his hand wrapped around her arm like a steel clamp and Amy had given up on trying to shake him off. ‘It’s not my fault these grounds are so big! Well, actually, it is kind of my fault. I suppose I could have stayed put at the house with everyone else.’
‘Yes. That you could have done. Why didn’t you?’ She was very slight. Her arm felt fragile in his hand. He imagined that if he were to ever pick her up, she wouldn’t weigh a thing. He released her and shoved his hands in his pockets.
‘I was tired.’ She shrugged. ‘Normally I’m up for any party but I just fancied a little bit of time on my own.’
‘There was a party going on when you left?’ Rafael’s ears pricked up. ‘What kind of party?’
‘Oh, the usual. Loud music. People passing out in the flower beds. Skinny-dipping in the pool.’
Rafael spun her around to face him. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? I would have heard if there was loud music. It’s a still night.’
Amy looked up at him in astonishment and then burst out laughing. ‘Of course there was no party, Mr Gardener! I just meant that, after the “getting to know you” over the cocktails, I decided
