A Spanish Passion. Carol Marinelli
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‘Cared about’. Past tense. That said it all, didn’t it just. She’d been a brat and for some reason he’d felt sorry for her and taken her under his wing. But now she was adult he wanted rid of the responsibility. Even though it was something she’d suspected, hearing it put into words hurt so much. She felt like bursting into tears of heartbreak. But wouldn’t let herself. She had to handle this like the adult she was. Make a clean break. Forget him. Make her own life.
‘Exactly.’ Her voice was cool but she felt sick inside. ‘I no longer need nannying so consider yourself off the hook. I intend to ask the trustees to let me buy a small place of my own. I want my independence.’
Javier’s mouth flattened with irritation. ‘Independence to do what? Run around with the likes of Sherman, stay out all night with no one to ask awkward questions, get behind the wheel of a racy sports car you haven’t the experience to handle?’ Not while he had breath in his body!
Zoe compressed her full lips, her eyes sparking rebellion. Ethel had been telling tales. That was what his rare appearance was all about! Nothing to do with wanting to say hello, spend some time with her.
‘A girl needs to have some fun,’ she sliced at him, affecting a blaséness she was far from feeling. She’d been lonely here so she’d done something about it. Joined the local tennis club, made friends, mixed with a smooth crowd, blowing her allowance on new clothes, treating her mates to lavish meals at fancy restaurants, clubbing, champagne flowing. She knew her friends sucked up to her for what they could get out of her but she didn’t care. At least their flattery and company helped fill the empty space in her life. Ollie might say he loved her, but she knew he didn’t. The only unconditional love she had came from Boysie and her cats.
As if to demonstrate her spiky inner thoughts a sleek black cat jumped through the open window behind her and with a chirrup of pleasure settled high on her chest, much to Boysie’s annoyance.
Javier’s dark brows met as compassion flooded his veins. She’d said a girl needed fun but what this girl needed was love. She’d been starved of it since she was eight years old and that had made her tricky. Tricky and needy, easy prey for the likes of Sherman. It was up to him to keep her safe. There was no one else.
Venting a sigh, he joined her on the window-seat and took the hairy little dog onto his own lap. The black cat settled more comfortably on Zoe’s knee. She was stroking it, her hair falling forward, veiling her face from him. His eyes were strangely mesmerised by the movements of those long, slender fingers.
Gathering himself, he pointed out flatly, ‘You have to know that I’d veto any suggestion that you have your own place at the moment, but that doesn’t mean we have to fight over it.’
No verbal reaction. Just a slight stiffening of her slender shoulders. He resisted the strong urge to pull her towards him, give her a reassuring cuddle. It would ease his conscience but, recalling the incident in Spain, she might get the wrong idea.
‘What I suggest is this—we book you a crash course of professional driving lessons and keep the Lotus locked in a garage until you’re capable of handling it. And we’ll decide what you want to do with your life. I’ll make sure I’m around to help you,’ he impressed heavily, continuing more lightly, ‘You once said you were interested in charity work; that might be the way to go. On the other hand,’ he ploughed on—difficult to keep sounding like a kindly uncle in the face of her total lack of response—‘you could enrol for a course in anything that takes your fancy.’
Setting the cat down, Zoe got to her feet, her movements fluidly dismissive. Wordlessly, she left the room, her golden head high. The little dog leapt from Javier’s lap and pattered after her. Javier’s chest tightened with an inward tug of breath. Guilt swamped him. He blamed himself for her wayward noncooperation; he should have been around far more often. When she’d been a kid he’d known how to handle her, she’d always responded to him. He didn’t know what made the newly adult woman tick.
Zoe hadn’t let herself cry. She never cried. But the hurt was difficult to push away. As little as an hour ago she would have welcomed his interference in her life with open arms if it meant he was going to be around more often. Bent over backwards to please him, knowing he would be giving her his time and attention, clinging onto the childish hope that he would grow to feel something for her.
But that wasn’t going to happen. She had finally accepted it. At long last she had stopped fantasising.
When Oliver Sherman rang her mobile she sat cross-legged on her bedroom carpet to take his call. His run-in with Javier hadn’t fazed him. Merely, ‘Your guardian’s a bossy bastard, Zo, but it needn’t spoil our plans. Obviously, I can’t pick you up this evening, but Guy’s willing. He’s bringing Jenny, and the three of us will collect you at seven—I thought we’d eat first so I booked us in at Anton’s for half past and we’ll go on from there. OK? Oh, and while I think about it, you can give me the keys and I’ll pick the Lotus up when we bring you back, provided the boss is tucked up in bed! I hate being without wheels and until I hear from the insurance bods about my latest write-off, I’m stuck. You still there, Zo?’
She pulled in a deep breath. Because Javier was home she’d fully intended to cancel. But things had changed. Her determination to stop herself loving him was still a touch shaky so it would be better if she didn’t have to spend too much time around him.
A fun evening with her friends, even if she did end up picking up the tab, was probably just what she needed to take her mind off Javier. And she’d grab the opportunity to take Ollie aside and tell him that if he wanted to keep her friendship and have the loan of her car in return for teaching her to drive, there must be no more repetitions of what had happened this afternoon.
‘Seven it is, then,’ she said coolly and cut the connection.
Zoe was on the doorstep at five to. All trigged out in her finest, making a statement.
Her freshly washed hair was caught back from one side of her face with a sparkling gold clip, echoing the gold of the band she wore on one wrist, picking up the tawny bronze of her sleeveless, almost backless silk sheath, the finishing touch of strappy bronze sandals adding four inches to her height.
Her mirror had told her she looked flirty. Expensive and flirty, startlingly reminiscent of the Glendas and Sophies of unfond memory. Set for a fun evening with smooth friends who knew their way around. Which should show Javier that he couldn’t interfere in her life.
Even Ethel, catching sight of her as she’d sauntered down the stairs, had popped her eyes. ‘I take it you won’t be in for dinner?’
‘Full marks for observation,’ had been her less than friendly response, pay-back time for snitching on her, a response she had immediately regretted because she liked Ethel in spite of her habit of handing out boring lectures. She would apologise tomorrow, she vowed as Ethel turned on the heels of her sensible shoes and bustled away. She wouldn’t want to hurt her for the world.
And quite why she’d been in such a sudden rush was made clear when moments later Javier appeared at her side.
The inside of his head felt hot and churned. She looked stunning. The thought of her out on the loose made his brain boil.
‘Going somewhere?’ he gritted, his eyes sliding with involuntary precision down the length of her exquisite naked spine, dragging them smartly away as she dipped her head