would he? Why would anyone want to kiss a blind woman? She could prove herself to as many people in as many ways as she wanted, but she could never get past the fact that she was blind. That was how people saw her—how they would always see her—how Nacho would always see her. The joke of it was she had forgotten she was blind while she had been with him. She’d smiled and laughed and parried his comments, even got angry with him—all of which had felt perfectly normal and exciting. He’d made her forget what she might be missing out on and had filled her world with so much more besides.
But now he’d left it was as if that light had gone out and now there was nothing but darkness around her again. And fear was back, fierce and strong, and fear said no one would ever see past her blindness.
IT WAS no use. Feeling sorry for herself would get her absolutely nowhere. She held the record for proof of that. She had to get on with things.
The room was becoming increasingly chilly, which meant the sun was close to setting—which in turn meant Nacho would soon be back to take her to the wine-tasting. Whatever had happened between them—now or at the wedding—her job came first, and she was going to look the part by the time he knocked on the door.
Getting ready for a night out wasn’t so different these days from the way it used to be—other than the thought of spending a whole evening in close proximity to Nacho, which put her on edge. She would just have to get over it, Grace reasoned.
Having showered and rubbed her hair dry on a towel in the bathroom she had mapped out carefully when she had first arrived, she dressed in what—thanks to Lucia’s system—she knew was a pair of white capris, flesh-coloured sandals and a pale blue, short-sleeved cotton top. She smoothed her hair and tied it back. Make-up was easy. She’d been lucky in that she’d had some warning her sight was going, so she’d had a chance to practise her technique.
It was so easy for her now that she could actually do her make-up without even thinking about it, Grace reflected wryly as she slicked some gloss on her bottom lip and pressed her lips together. Her cheeks felt hot enough from the thought of seeing Nacho again not to need any rouge, and she was lucky to have been born with black eyelashes. But she still liked her eyeshadow. Two sweeps of the small brush across the pot, blow on brush, apply, repeat. In the early days Lucia had used to stand ready with wet wipes to correct any errors, but then one day Lucia had done nothing, and they had both shrieked in triumph as they threw their arms around each other and hugged.
A sharp bark from Buddy warned Grace that her visitor had arrived. Carefully feeling her way downstairs, she paused to draw in a steadying breath before opening the door. That bolt of excitement—the way her heart reacted when Nacho was close by—had nothing to do with being blind and everything to do with Nacho. Just the thought of being close to him again made her world tilt on its axis. She didn’t want his pity for being blind, but even more than that she didn’t want him thinking she was an impressionable female incapable of functioning normally and doing her job while he was around.
‘Well, this is it, Buddy,’ she said, firming her jaw. ‘We’re all set.’
She opened the door and the breath left her lungs in a rush. So much for her good intentions, Grace thought, taking a moment to get over the Nacho effect.
‘Grace …’
No matter how cool Nacho’s greeting, the masculinity firing off him was hot, hot, hot. She knew he was towering over her, staring down, and she knew he was very close.
‘Hi …’ She spoke brightly, with a smile, trying to sound as if this were a regular day at the office.
But it didn’t work, she realised when he didn’t speak. Her cheeks fired red. This was like stepping out into the void without a safety net. She couldn’t really tell if she’d managed to dress and put her make up on without making too many goofs. Her hair might be standing on end for all she knew. She smoothed it self-consciously.
‘Ready to go, Grace?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Her throat felt tight as she reached for her briefcase. That was a small victory. She heard Nacho swoop to get it for her, but she got there first. She rarely lost anything these days, because it was so crucial she knew where everything was, and she had left it ready. Hanging the strap crossways over her body, she called Buddy, found the handle of his harness and reached for the door.
Was the air actually fizzing with electricity as she walked past Nacho or was that all in her head?
He closed the door behind them, and somehow managed to be at the gate in front of them.
‘The Jeep’s ahead of you, Grace. Would you like me to put Buddy in the back?’
‘That’s all right. I’ll do it.’
She was going to start as she meant to go on. This was business and she was going to do it right. She felt her way round to the back of the vehicle. It was already open, and she did a good job of loading Buddy. It was only when she came round to the passenger door that she hit a snag. She mapped the door time after time, with increasingly sweaty palms, but she still couldn’t find the handle. She felt so stupid—so hot and bothered—so frustrated.
‘I presume I’m allowed to do this much for you?’
She took a step back as the door opened. Did she appear so prickly and defensive? Grace wondered as Nacho helped her in.
The answer to that was yes. She wasn’t cut out for the role of victim. But there was no reason to overreact to every little comment he made, either.
Feeling for the seat, she settled in and Nacho swung in beside her. When he closed the door she had the sense of being contained in a very small space with him. He was a huge physical presence, but then she had always known that. It was Nacho’s physicality and energy rather than the sheer size of him getting to her now, and she was heating up all over just at the thought of his big body closing in on her own small frame. She could smell that he was still damp from the shower and had used some sort of menthol soap … or perhaps that was toothpaste? Anyway, he smelled really good.
Were her nipples erect? she wondered suddenly. Could she risk checking? She decided not, and crossed her arms over her chest instead as he started the engine and they moved off. She could imagine his powerful hands on the wheel, controlling their direction with the lightest of touches. The leather seats were big and comfortable. She explored hers discreetly, and then relaxed. The seats were huge. There was no chance they could rub up against each other accidentally.
‘It’s just a short drive to our newly refurbished wine facility,’ Nacho explained. ‘We could have walked there, but I thought you might be tired after the upheaval of the day.’
Now she couldn’t tell if he was smiling, frowning, or even laughing at her. He’d cottoned on very quickly to the fact that she could read a lot from a voice and was becoming increasingly clever at masking his opinion.
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she replied, settling for not making anything of his comment. ‘I’m looking forward to tasting the wines.’
‘Viticulture in this area goes back centuries,’ he said, going on to explain something of its history.
She
