would be hot orange puffs dusted with sugar, as well as figuritas de marzapan, marzipan shaped into mice and rabbits for the children.
She concentrated hard, loving every moment of the preparation. Cooking was an oasis in her life that offered periods of calm as essential as they were soothing. She counted herself fortunate that her love of food had brought her success.
Resisting the temptation to sample one of everything she had made, Zoë finally stood back, sighing with contentment. It all looked absolutely delicious.
Someone else thought so too—before she knew what she was doing Zoë had automatically slapped Rico’s hand away as he reached for a marzipan rabbit.
‘Rico!’ She clutched her chest with surprise. ‘I thought it was one of the crew! I didn’t realise it was you…’ And then all she could think was that her chef’s jacket was stained and her face had to be tomato red from the heat in the kitchen. ‘I didn’t expect you until tonight.’
‘It is tonight.’ He gazed past her through the open window.
‘I must have got carried away. What time is it?’
‘Don’t worry. Not time to panic yet.’
Not time to panic? So why was her heart thundering off the chart? Zoë tried to wipe her face on her sleeve without Rico noticing. ‘What brings you here so early?’
‘I thought you might need some help. It looks like I was right.’
‘I’m doing fine.’
‘I brought drinks.’
‘Drinks… Drinks! That was what was missing!’ She turned to him. ‘I’ve made some lemonade to pour over crushed ice for the children, and for anyone who doesn’t drink…’
‘That’s fine, but you should have plenty of choice. It’s going to be a long night.’ Going to the kitchen door, he held it open and a line of men filed in. They were loaded down with crates of beer, boxes of wine and spirits, and soft drinks.
‘Cava, brandy, sherry, and the local liquor…’ Rico ticked them off, shooting an amused glance at Zoë as a man bearing a huge earthenware flagon marched in.
‘Oh, no—not that!’
‘You don’t have to drink it,’ he pointed out, smiling when he saw her expression.
‘You’re far too generous. Of course my company will pay for everything—’
‘We’ll worry about that later.’
‘The crew will drink everything in sight, given half a chance.’
‘Not tonight. Just worry about getting the white wine and cava chilled.’
‘What do you mean, not tonight? Once they’ve filmed Maria, and taken a couple of crowd shots, the crew will join in the party—’
‘Haven’t I told you not to worry?’ Rico slipped the lead man some banknotes to share around as tips.
‘You don’t know the crew like I do. I don’t want to spoil it for them, but, bluntly, with all this drink around—I just can’t face the mess in the morning.’
‘Let me assure you that your crew are going to be far too busy to get into any mischief. You have my word on it.’
‘Rico, what are you talking about?’
‘Your director has arranged for another feature to be filmed tonight. Hasn’t he told you yet?’
‘No…’ Zoë frowned. How could that happen when they always discussed everything in advance?
‘He is very enthusiastic.’
‘That’s why I hired him.’ She resigned herself. It had to be something good. She couldn’t imagine the man who was the mainstay of her team asking everyone to work late unless it was really worthwhile…
‘He’s got everyone’s agreement to work overtime,’ Rico added.
‘Can you read my mind?’
‘From time to time.’
Zoë looked at Rico, looked at his lips, then dragged her gaze away. ‘It must be an excellent feature.’
‘Last minute.’
‘Yes, I guessed that.’ She couldn’t be angry with Philip, though she was curious. She welcomed suggestions from anyone in the team. The strength of her company was that they worked together, with no one person riding roughshod over another. She knew from bitter experience that those tactics never worked. ‘Do you know what it is?’
‘A typical sport of this region.’
‘A sport?’ Zoë looked doubtful.
‘Something colourful and authentic for your programme.’
‘Don’t tease me, Rico. Tell me what it is.’
‘I’m going to get some extra glasses out of the Jeep.’ Before Zoë could question him further he added, ‘And by the way, señorita, your figuritas are delicious.’
So what was this surprise feature? Zoë flashed a glance at the door. Rico should have told her. He made her mad, and he made her melt too—a dangerous combination, and not something she should be looking for in a man. She wasn’t looking for a man, Zoë reminded herself firmly.
‘Tell me about this sport,’ she insisted, the moment Rico came back.
Putting the case of glasses down on the counter, he turned to look at her. Zoë tried not to notice the figure-hugging black trousers and close-fitting black shirt moulding his impressive torso, or the fact that there was something wild and untamed about him. It lay just beneath the sleek packaging, telling her he would never settle down. Men like Rico Cortes never did.
‘Wrestling.’
‘Wrestling!’ And then it all fell into place: El Paladín!
She shuddered inwardly. ‘Will you be taking part?’
‘Perhaps.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve arranged for people to come and wash these glasses for you, and to serve tonight, so that after you finish filming you can have fun too. My people will clear up after the crew. You don’t have a thing to worry about. You should kick back a little, enjoy yourself for a change.’
‘Thank you,’ Zoë murmured, her good manners functioning on automatic pilot. Her brain was working on two levels: the first accepted the fact that she needed help on the practical side because she had promised the crew they could join the party after work; the second level was dragging her down to a place she didn’t want to go. Anything that smacked of violence, even a sport, made her feel queasy.
‘Wrestling is hugely popular in this part of Spain. When your director asked me about it, I knew I could help him.’
‘El Paladín?’ Zoë’s voice came out like a whisper, and she tried
