by Mary Lyons
‘It looks as if you are still having problems with horses—just as you did all those years ago in Seville!’ he laughed, keeping a firm grip on the reins with one hand, while putting out the other to help her dismount.
‘So…it seems that I must come to your rescue—yet again! No…?’
CHAPTER TWO
‘WHAT do you think you’re doing?’ Gina demanded angrily, when she was at last able to catch her breath.
‘My dear Gina…what does it look as if I’m doing?’ He grinned sardonically up at her. ‘Surely I am—as you would say in England—rescuing a damsel in distress?’
‘What?’ She frowned down at him, not having a clue what he was talking about.
‘Your horse was clearly out of control,’ he pointed out, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘And, since you also appeared to be in some trouble, I naturally assumed…’
‘Nonsense!’ she snapped, leaning forward to give her horse a pat on the neck. ‘There was absolutely no need to give poor Pegasus such a fright. And I certainly was not in trouble,’ she added grimly, tightening her grip on the thin leather reins and giving them a quick jerk.
Desperately longing to be able to dig her heels into lazy old Pegasus, and get the hell out of this highly embarrassing situation, Gina realised that she was well and truly stuck. Now that he was so near his stable, her beastly horse wasn’t likely to budge an inch. And with Antonio continuing to grin sardonically up at her—while still maintaining his iron grip on the reins—there was clearly nothing she could do.
‘Nevertheless, this animal appeared to be clearly terrified, and bolting out of control,’ Antonio pointed out in a maddening, condescending tone of voice. ‘Which is precisely why, my dear Gina, I quickly realised that I must come to your rescue. Yet again!’ he added with a low rumble of laughter.
‘Hah! That’s all you know!’ she ground out furiously, her palms itching to smack that superior smile off his handsome face.
Quickly slipping one of her black leather boots out of its stirrup, she swung her leg up over the saddle and jumped lightly down on to the ground beside him.
And that, Gina realised almost immediately, had been a bad, bad mistake.
For one thing, she had immediately lost the advantage of height which she’d had when perched on her horse’s back. And although at five foot ten inches she was normally regarded as being a tall woman, she now found herself having to look up at the man standing beside her.
And besides…well, now that she was standing so close to him, she could almost feel the tough, physical aura, the dramatic sense of power and overwhelming masculine sexuality, which had always seemed to positively ooze from every pore of Antonio’s tall, dynamic figure.
Nothing has changed, she told herself with a sinking heart. How could life be so unfair? Surely after all this time he could at least have done her the great favour of becoming disgustingly fat…or bald…or as ugly as sin…
Unfortunately, as much as it might hurt her to admit the truth, it seemed as if the passage of time had hardly touched the rotten man.
In fact, with that short-sleeved black shirt emphasising his broad shoulders, and those trousers positively hugging his slim waist and hips, he was clearly in great shape. Although his face now seemed slightly thinner than she remembered—throwing into relief his high cheekbones, and giving him a more hawk-like expression—he was still the same diabolically attractive man she’d known all those years ago.
Come on! Get a grip on the situation. You’ve got to pull yourself together—and fast! she yelled silently at her inner self, who was clearly going weak at the knees in response to his overwhelming sex appeal. Not to mention the soft, caressing effect his Spanish accent was having on her trembling body.
How could she be so stupid, for heaven’s sake? This man had always been Trouble with a capital T, as far as she was concerned. And she’d be an idiot not to keep that thought firmly at the very front of her mind!
‘If you must know…far from bolting, as you put it, greedy old Pegasus was just galloping back to his stable—looking forward to a fresh bag of hay!’ she told Antonio through gritted teeth.
‘He always does that when we turn for home after being out for a ride,’ she added, brushing the long fair hair from her face as she raised her chin defiantly towards him. ‘And I happen to enjoy the gallop home every bit as much as he does!’
‘Ah…’
‘So, you see…I most certainly did not need rescuing by you, señor!’
“‘Señor”…?’ he murmured dryly, and her cheeks flushed as she registered the cool, ironic tone in his deep voice. ‘Ah, Gina! Surely I was once “Antonio” to you…?’
‘Yes…well…that was a very long time ago,’ she muttered, bitterly aware of the breathless, husky note in her own voice and the hot tide of crimson now sweeping up over her pale complexion. ‘I…er…I’m a completely different person nowadays.’
‘Umm…yes, I can see that you most certainly are!’ he drawled, his dark eyes fringed with long, thick lashes gleaming with sardonic amusement as he viewed the tall, slender figure standing beside him.
With her long, ash-blonde hair flowing down well past her shoulders, it was obvious to Antonio that the young girl whom he’d once known had now matured into a beautiful woman. Her pale alabaster skin, fine bone structure and high forehead over hauntingly vivid sapphire-blue eyes all combined to give her a faintly medieval appearance. Just the sort of looks, in fact, which would have recommended her to artists such as Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo.
Regrettably, however, his rather more down-to-earth, basic instincts were irrepressibly drawn to her high, firm breasts, and the slim waist and hips emphasised by those close-fitting jodhpurs.
Why was it, he found himself wondering idly, that the sight of a woman dressed in pale-coloured, skin-tight riding breeches and high, shiny black boots appeared to be quite so erotic?
However, he quickly realised, only a second or two later, that Miss Gina Brandon did not seem to appreciate him viewing her with such close interest. Especially if the sight of the angry glint in her large blue eyes, and those soft lips now drawn into a hard, tight line of annoyance was anything to go by!
Damned cheek! Gina gritted her teeth, fuming with resentment.
Having been a bag of nerves all afternoon and feeling sick with apprehension about the sudden reappearance of Antonio in her life, Gina was now almost grateful for the tide of fury surging through her veins. Besides, rage and anger had to be much safer emotions than the highly dangerous siren call of Antonio’s overwhelmingly sensual appeal, to which she’d found herself so weakly responding earlier.
Struggling to overcome yet another urgent desire to give that handsome tanned face a good, hard slap, she forced herself to take a deep breath.
‘I think we’ve stood out here in the park quite long enough—don’t you?’ she said as coolly as she could, before stalking past Antonio towards the wooden fence and swinging open a five-barred gate.
Since he’d been so determined, earlier, to hang on to Pegasus’s reins, he could damn well be useful and lead the horse back to its manger, she thought defiantly, simply not caring if she was being a lousy hostess as she strode ahead of him towards the stable block.
However, by the time that Pegasus was unsaddled, and safely bedded down in his stable, Gina had managed to get herself back on an even keel. Helped, it must be said, by the completely unexpected, matter-of-fact way in which Antonio, without needing to be asked, had automatically brushed down the large animal while she’d filled nets with fresh hay, for both Pegasus and the elderly mare whom she kept as his stable companion.
‘Would you care for a pot of tea?’ Gina asked as she bolted the door of the stables before leading the way towards the house. ‘Or maybe…’ She glanced down at her watch as they entered the hall, surprised to see that it was almost six o’clock. ‘Maybe you’d prefer a drink?’
While Antonio, who’d never understood the fondness of th
e English for their traditional cup of tea, was agreeing that a drink would be welcome, Gina caught sight of herself in a large mirror on the wall.
It was all she could do not to groan out loud with dismay. It was deeply galling to realise that she’d spent the last half-hour looking such a fright. Because it must have been in the stable that she’d picked up those bits of straw in her hair, and the large smear of dust on her face.
Just as she was wondering if she could leave Antonio to twiddle his thumbs, while she rushed upstairs and tried to make herself look more presentable, she was startled to see the reflection of his tanned, handsome face appearing beside her.
‘Oh, Lord—what a mess!’ she muttered, giving him a fleeting, nervous smile in the mirror as she quickly tried to brush the dust from her cheek.
‘No problema…’ he murmured, standing close behind her tense figure and calmly plucking the long, thin pieces of straw from her tangled locks.
Unable to prevent an involuntary slight shiver at the touch of his warm fingers brushing against her skin, Gina was surprised to find herself meekly allowing him to turn her around. And, even more astonishingly, waiting patiently while he took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to slowly brush the dust from her cheek.
‘That’s much better,’ he said, taking a step back and allowing his gaze to roam slowly, once more, over her full breasts and slim-waisted figure.
‘Oh, yes…you’ve definitely grown up since we last met, Gina,’ he drawled, the sardonic amusement in his voice suddenly setting her teeth on edge. ‘And now we can maybe have that drink you mentioned?’
She was swept by a sudden, quick flash of furious self-disgust at having allowed herself to be cut down to size. And by this man, of all people, she told herself grimly, fed up to the back teeth at the alarming speed with which her emotions seemed to be violently swinging up and down from one minute to the next.
It was like…well, it was just like being on a roller-coaster, she told herself, before giving him a curt nod and stomping off across the hall. The sharp, staccato sound of her leather-soled boots on the hard grey flagstones betrayed her momentary anger, and caused Antonio’s lips to twitch with amusement as he followed her into a large kitchen.
‘There’s some beer and a bottle of wine in the fridge. However, if you’d prefer something stronger…?’
Having assured her that chilled white wine would be perfect, and after carrying the small tray outside on to the terrace, Antonio raised the question of why the house had appeared to be so deserted on his arrival.
‘It wasn’t too clever of me to leave all the doors open,’ she admitted, sitting down on the long stone seat set against the side of the house and trying not to stare at his long, tanned fingers as they deftly removed the cork from the wine bottle.
‘Although we usually do, if it’s a hot afternoon like today,’ she told him with a slight shrug, before adding carelessly, ‘But I suppose I should have remembered that the Lamberts are away for a long weekend.’
Antonio raised a dark, quizzical eyebrow. ‘The Lamberts…?’
Damn! Why didn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? Gina asked herself irritably.
She was a grown woman, and quite sensible enough to realise that while Antonio might well try and flirt with her that was as far as he was likely to go. And, let’s face it, she told herself wryly, he was just the sort of guy who automatically turned on the charm whenever in the presence of a female—whatever their age might be.
However, she really didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. It was just possible that, having told him she was alone in the house, he might think she was expecting him to come on to her. So…it might be as well to hit that nail hard on the head straight away.
‘Yes, the housekeeper and her husband, Doris and Ted Lambert, are away for the weekend,’ Gina said as he handed her a glass of wine. ‘They’ve looked after the house—and my grandfather—for the last twenty years. Quite honestly,’ she added with a quick grin, ‘I don’t know what we’d do without them.’
‘Ah, yes, I see.’
‘However…Doris always lays on one of her friends in the village to come in and clean when she’s away. And since her friend is apt to sing hymns at the top of her voice, early in the morning, I’ve given you a bedroom suite in the far wing of the house,’ Gina told him, adding casually, ‘As far away from the main block and the other bedrooms as possible.’
‘I see. All is explained,’ he murmured enigmatically, leaving her to worry about whether she’d been too obvious as he came over to sit down on the stone bench beside her. ‘But it must be a problem having no cook in the kitchen?’
‘Nonsense!’ Gina laughed nervously, wishing that he had chosen to sit on one of the comfortable garden chairs instead. Unfortunately, there was no getting away from the fact that she was finding the close proximity of this man distinctly disturbing.
‘I’m perfectly capable of cooking a meal,’ she told him briskly. ‘Good wine and good food are natural partners. Which is why I spent a year doing a cordon bleu course in Paris, when I left school. However, since I didn’t have much warning of your arrival today, I’ve booked a table for dinner at one of the local restaurants,’ she added, before rising to her feet and suggesting that he might like to be shown to his room.
Luckily, the situation wasn’t proving to be nearly so awkward as she had feared, Gina told herself some hours later, as she leaned back in her chair, gazing around the crowded restaurant.
In fact, he appeared to approve of her very plain, black silk sleeveless dress, and the simple row of pearls which had belonged to her mother. And apart from a slight altercation when Antonio had adamantly insisted on them leaving the house in his car—‘I have never allowed myself to be driven by a woman—and I have no intention of doing so now!’—he was proving to be the perfect guest.
He’d also been charmed by the sight of the ivy-covered restaurant situated at the end of a narrow country lane, nodding with satisfaction when they’d been shown to a secluded table in the beautifully decorated dining room. Which clearly gave them some degree of privacy, and the opportunity of holding a conversation without being deafened by the chattering noise of the other diners.
‘I’d forgotten that it can be quite so noisy at times,’ she’d murmured apologetically, but he’d brushed her words aside.
‘That, my dear Gina, is merely the sign of a good restaurant,’ he’d told her, before turning his attention to the wine list.
Fortunately he’d approved of the wine list—always a tricky point when taking those in the trade out to dinner!—and there’d been some considerable discussion with the attentive head waiter over exactly what to drink with their choice of cold watercress soup and chicken in a tarragon sauce.
Not only had the wine and food proved to be delicious, but she’d found herself gradually relaxing and enjoying Antonio’s company: laughing at his wry, amusing description of the total chaos he’d discovered in the Bodega when taking over the reins of the family company from his uncle Emilio. ‘I’m not saying that the invoices were still being written with a quill pen.’ He’d grinned. ‘But the ancient telephone switchboard had clearly not been changed since the days of Alexander Graham Bell!’
And, of course, she’d been delighted to hear the up-to-date news of her old friend—his younger sister, Roxana, whom she’d met when the Spanish girl had spent a year at school in London to brush up her English.
Drawn together by the fact that they were both orphans—Roxana’s parents having also been killed in a car accident when she was only a small child—they’d not only become firm friends, but had spent long holidays at each other’s homes. Which was precisely how she’d first come to meet Antonio, Gina reminded herself, before quickly making a determined effort to banish the past from her mind.
‘She was always an amusing girl, no?’ Antonio had said with a broad smile, before explaining that his young sister, to the surprise of the whole family, had suddenly decided to take
up a career in show business and was now appearing in one of the daily soap operas on Spanish television.
‘Good heavens!’ Gina had exclaimed, her smile widening when he’d informed her that those were exactly the same words used by his elderly grandmother on first seeing Roxana on TV. She’d been really pleased to hear that his old grandmother, Señora Ramirez, of whom she had fond memories, was still very much alive and ruling the roost at the family home in Jerez—where, it seemed, Antonio was also now based, since taking over the company.
Indeed, from what Antonio had said, it seemed as if he was going to have his work cut out, trying to drag the family wine business into the twenty-first century. And, thinking about some of the problems which he’d outlined, such as the need to make sure all his aged relatives continued receiving a reasonable income, Gina suddenly realised that it couldn’t have been much fun suddenly finding himself pitchforked into taking on the family responsibilities.
‘Do you have any regrets about having been forced to give up your career in the law?’ she’d asked. ‘The life of a wine maker in Jerez must be very different to that of a hot-shot lawyer in Madrid.’
‘I always knew that I would have to, at some point in my life, take over the family business, but my uncle was always very much of an autocrat,’ Antonio had said, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Which was why I decided to carve out a career of my own, until such time as my uncle Emilio decided to hand over the reins. And it would seem that you, too, are likely to be faced with very much the same sort of situation, if and when your grandfather decides to retire,’ he’d added with a smile.
However, she’d merely given a slight shrug of her own, before determinedly changing the subject by asking him his opinion of last year’s wines from the famous Rioja region in the north of Spain.
Despite doing her best to try and keep all conversation to their mutual business interest, Gina had found it increasingly difficult to harden her heart against his warm, obvious charm.
