had on him, rested his elbows on his knees, and began to rub the kinks out of his neck with both hands. He let out a deep sigh. So much for peace, tranquillity and nice quiet solitude.
‘I really am sorry, you know,’ she said, her voice sounding rather small.
‘So you said.’
‘I thought you were a burglar.’
‘If I was, I wouldn’t be a very good one,’ he muttered, remembering the way he’d slammed the front door and thundered up the stairs in his haste to crash out and wipe the last week from his brain. ‘I wasn’t exactly subtle.’
‘Well, no,’ she admitted, ‘but at the time a cool, logical analysis of the situation wasn’t uppermost in my mind. I acted on instinct.’
And how he’d suffered for it. Her instincts were so dangerous they should come with a warning.
As should that body. Because she might have backed off but she was still far too close for his comfort. She was now kneeling beside him and sitting back on her heels and her smooth bare thighs were within stroking distance. At the thought of sliding his hands up her legs, his fingers itched and he dug them just that little bit harder into his neck.
‘The next time I come across a closed door,’ he said, setting his jaw and trying not to think about silky thighs and itching fingers, ‘I’ll knock.’
She nodded. ‘Probably a good idea.’
‘All I thought I was doing was simply switching off a light that had been left on by accident. Who knew helping the environment could be so lethal?’ He glanced at the book lying innocently on the floor behind her and frowned. ‘What the hell did you hit me with?’
‘Don Quijote,’ she said, wincing and going pink.
That would certainly account for the bruise he could feel swelling at his temple. ‘I always thought that book was utterly deadly,’ he said darkly, ‘but I never thought I’d ever mean literally.’
‘You were supposed to be in Madrid.’
At the faint accusatory tone of her voice his eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you suggesting that this,’ he said, breaking off from massaging his neck to indicate his head, ‘is somehow my fault?’
She frowned. ‘Well, no,’ she said, sounding a bit more contrite and biting on that damn lip again. ‘But if you’d been expected I imagine Ana would have warned me and then I’d have been listening out for you instead of attacking you.’ And then she lifted her chin and pulled her shoulders up and back, which did nothing to help his resolution to keep his eyes off her chest. ‘Were you expected?’
No, his decision to come down here had been uncharacteristically on the spur of the moment, and with hindsight that might have been a mistake, but that wasn’t the point. Rafael arched an eyebrow and threw her a look that had quelled many a thick-headed CEO. ‘I wasn’t aware I needed to be.’
‘No, of course you don’t,’ she said, flushing a bit deeper. ‘It’s your house. Sorry.’
And that was the third time tonight she appeared to be one step ahead of him, he thought with a stab of annoyance. In addition to taking him by surprise earlier, she apparently knew his name and that this was his house. Whereas he knew nothing about her apart from the fact that she was probably British, looked incredibly hot in her skimpy T-shirt and knickers and had skin and hair that felt like silk beneath his hands. The latter two of which, he reminded himself for the dozenth time, weren’t in the slightest bit relevant.
Giving himself a mental slap, Rafael pulled himself together. He’d had quite enough of being on the back foot for one evening. Quite enough of having his nice ordered life being thrown into increasing disarray. It was high time he asserted some kind of control over this particular situation at the very least, and focused on what was important.
‘You’re right,’ he said coolly as he fixed her with his most penetrating stare. ‘So perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me who you are and what you’re doing here.’
She blinked at him for a moment or two, then gave him a tentative smile. ‘Well, I’m Nicky.’
She said it as if it should have been obvious, and Rafael frowned. ‘Nicky?’
‘Sinclair.’
He racked his brains for a spark of recognition but came up with nothing. ‘Is that supposed to mean something?’
‘I was rather hoping so.’
‘It doesn’t.’ He was pretty sure he didn’t know any Nickys, Sinclair or otherwise, and equally sure he didn’t want to if they were anything like this one.
‘Oh.’
Her smile faded and something tugged at his chest. Rafael ignored it and concentrated on his original line of questioning. ‘And what are you doing in my house?’
‘I’m here on holiday.’
His eyebrows shot up. Since when had the cortijo been open to visitors other than his family? ‘On holiday?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Two days.’
‘And how long were you planning to stay?’
She shrugged then looked uneasy. ‘Well, I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought.’
Hmm. He really ought to have made more of an effort to come down here over the last few months, tricky merger or no tricky merger. In the five years he’d had the place he’d generally managed to make it down once a month, but lately he’d been so tied up with work he’d had no option but to stay in Madrid. He’d received the usual weekly reports about the vineyard, of course, but heaven knew what had really been going on in his absence.
‘Are there any more of you?’
She looked at him warily. ‘No, just me.’
That was something to be grateful for, he supposed, shoving his hands through his hair before he remembered the bruise, and grimacing as a fresh arrow of pain scythed through him.
It shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of her. His plane was sitting at the airport a mere half an hour away and could take her anywhere she wanted to go at a moment’s notice. Within the hour he could be enjoying the solitude he’d been hankering after.
There was no question of her continuing her holiday, of course, because quite apart from the fact that the house wasn’t open to visitors—of either the paying or non-paying variety—none of his fantasies about escaping everything for a few days had featured a hot house guest with a penchant for violence.
Besides, he’d finally reached the end of his usually fairly long tether, and he’d had enough. Of everything. So he’d send Nicky on her way, wipe the bizarrely traumatic events of this evening from his memory, and set about relaxing.
But not while they were both still on the floor, he decided, getting painfully to his feet then holding out his hand to help her up.
‘You
