you’d find that without your wealth and looks you would have to lower your standards.’
‘In which case the women I date are as shallow as I am.’
‘And you don’t have a problem with that?’
‘Nope. I see no need to apologise for dating beautiful women.’
‘What about the fact you only go out with beautiful women?’
‘I don’t force them to go out with me, and I make them no promises.’
‘But even you admit it’s shallow?’
‘It’s called having fun, Cora. I believe in fun. As long as no one gets hurt. I’ve earned my money fair and square and if I choose to spend it on living life to the full then I won’t apologise for it.’
‘So the whole fast cars, beautiful women, party lifestyle is all you want from life?’
Why did it matter so much to her?
Because she wanted to shout, What about women like me? Don’t we rate a look-in? What about those less endowed with natural charm and grace? People like me, who knock things over, say the wrong thing or—worse—say nothing at all. The ones who haven’t been touched by the brush of success. What about us?
‘Not all I want, no.’ His lips were set to grim and a clenching of his fist on the mahogany tabletop suddenly made him appear oceans apart from shallow playboy.
‘What else do you want?’
‘I want to make Martinez Wines a success, I want to run the London Marathon, to climb Ben Nevis, travel the world with a backpack, sail the oceans... I want to live life to the full and set the world to rights.’
Cora stared at him, unsure whether he meant it or was mocking her.
‘What do you want, Cora?’
The question was smooth, but laced with a sting.
What did she want right now? A vast amount of money—enough to repay her parents for the loss of the Derwent diamonds, stolen thanks to her naïve stupidity.
What did she want from life? She wanted the impossible—approval, love, acceptance from her parents, who had shown nothing but indifference to the child they perceived as surplus to requirements.
For an instant she envied Rafael Martinez his brash desire to live his life as he wanted, by his own rules. He wanted to live life to the full and she wanted...
‘I want... I want...’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I want to get on with my life. Be happy.’
But as she stared at him, so handsome, so arrogant, smouldering, for an instant she wanted him—wanted to be one of those gorgeous women he was attracted to. She wanted, coveted, yearned for Kaitlin’s looks and her presence—that elusive ‘It’ factor her sister possessed in abundance. How shallow was that? Clearly the atmosphere was affecting her and it was time to get a grip.
‘Are you happy now?’ he asked. ‘Do you enjoy being an administrator?’
‘It’s what I need to do.’
It had been a cry for approval. Another step on her quest to be a useful daughter. She had slogged through a business studies degree and offered to help manage the Derwent estate. Had been doing just that when she had messed up—big-time. Following the diamond heist her parents had told her they could no longer trust her to carry out her job ‘with any level of competence’. The memory of the ice-cold disdain in her mother’s tone brought back a rush of humiliation and guilt. Reminded her of her imperative need to repay her debt.
‘It pays the bills.’
Her minimal bills. For an instant the depressing contents of her weekly supermarket shop paraded before her eyes. Every spare penny put aside.
For a second a look of puzzlement crossed his face as he surveyed her. ‘Well, the role I have on offer will definitely help with that. If you can get over your prejudice.’
‘What prejudice?’
‘The “I can’t work for you because I disapprove of your lifestyle” prejudice.’
‘It’s not a prejudice. It’s a principle.’
‘No it’s not. A principle is when you don’t do something for moral reasons. Working for me wouldn’t be immoral. So...’ His voice was deep, serious, seductive. ‘Promise you’ll hear me out.’
‘I’ll hear you out,’ she heard herself say, even as cautionary bells clamoured in her ears. Fool. Last time she’d heard someone out it had ended in disaster. A pseudo-journalist who had turned out to be a conman extraordinaire and had stolen the Derwent diamonds.
Turning, she stared out of the window as the turquoise sky and the scud of white clouds receded and the airport loomed.
* * *
Rafael led the way out of the small airport, glanced round and spotted Tomás and his pick-up truck. ‘There’s our ride.’
Cora’s blue eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. ‘And here was me expecting nothing less than a limo.’
‘Tomás loves that truck like a child. In fact, according to his wife María he loves it more than he loves his children. Tomás is a great guy—he has worked at the vineyard his whole life, as his father did before him. I was lucky he and María agreed to stay on when I bought it.’
It had been touch and go—Tomás had deeply disapproved of the sale and hadn’t believed Rafael was serious. Yet he had given him a chance to prove himself.
‘He brings knowledge better than the most cutting edge technology and most importantly he loves the grapes, the soil, the very essence of the wine.’ Rafael set off towards the truck. ‘He is, however, the embodiment of the word taciturn, and doesn’t speak much English, so don’t be offended by him and try and remember he is a valued Martinez employee.’
Cora frowned. ‘What do you think I’ll do?’
Fair question. He bit back the answer that sprang to his lips. In truth he had been worried that she would look down her haughty, aristocratic nose at the hired help. Only Cora’s nose was more retroussé style and...and maybe he was at risk of being a touch stereotypical. Aristocratic did not have to equal Don Carlos.
‘Hey, boss.’ Tomás’s grizzled face relaxed into a fraction of a smile as they reached the car.
‘Tomás. This is Cora. Cora—Tomás.’
Cora stepped forward and touched the bonnet of the truck, then bestowed a friendly smile on Tomás. Rafael’s eyes snagged right on her lips and a funny little awareness fluttered—he’d like Cora to smile at him like that.
‘This is wonderful,’ she said, and turned to Rafael. ‘Could you tell him that I’m truly impressed? It’s better than a limo—this is a classic. I didn’t know there were any pick-ups this age on the road any more. And it’s immaculate.’
Rafael translated,
