The Spanish Groom. Lynne Graham

chair before her knees gave way beneath her. She was waiting for him to ask how such a junior employee could possibly have amassed debts amounting to such a staggering total. Indeed, in that instant of overwhelming shock and embarrassment, she was actually eager to explain how, through a series of awful misunderstandings and mishaps, such a situation had developed through no real fault of her own.

      ‘I have not the slightest interest in hearing a sob story,’ César Valverde delivered deflatingly as he lounged back against his desk again, his impossibly tall, lean and powerful length taking up a formidably relaxed pose.

      ‘But I want to explain—’

      ‘There is no need for you to explain anything. Debts of that nature are self-explanatory. You have a taste for living above your means and you like to party—’

      Cringing at the knowledge that he knew about those shameful debts in her name, and her equally shameful inability to settle them, Dixie broke back into speech. ‘No, Mr Valverde. I—’

      ‘If you interrupt me again, I won’t offer you my assistance,’ César Valverde interposed with icy bite.

      Struggling to understand that assurance, Dixie tipped back her wildly curly head and gaped at him. ‘Assistance?’ she stressed blankly.

      ‘I’m prepared to offer you another form of employment.’

      In complete confusion, Dixie blinked.

      ‘But if you take on the role, it will entail a great deal of hard work and effort on your part.’

      Sinking ever deeper into bewilderment, but ready to snatch at any prospect of continuing employment like a drowning swimmer snatches at a branch, Dixie nodded eagerly. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work, Mr Valverde.’

      Obviously he was talking about demoting her. Where did you go from office junior? Dixie wondered frantically. Scrubbing the floors in the cafeteria kitchen?

      César sent her a gleaming glance. ‘You’re really not in a position to turn my offer down.’

      ‘I know,’ Dixie acknowledged with total humility, suddenly starting to squirm at the reality of how much she had always disliked him. Evidently she had completely misjudged César Valverde’s character. Even though he had a legitimate excuse to sack her, he seemed to be willing to give her another chance. And if that meant scrubbing the canteen kitchen floor, she ought to say thank you from the bottom of her heart and get on with it.

      ‘Jasper hasn’t been well.’

      The switch in subject disconcerted Dixie. Her strained face shadowed. ‘By what he’s said in his letters he still hasn’t quite got over that chest trouble he had in the spring.’

      César looked grim. ‘His heart is weak.’

      Dixie’s eyes prickled. That news was too much on top of all her other worries. Her stinging eyes overflowed and she dug into the pocket of her skirt to find a tissue. But the horrible news about Jasper did make sudden sense of César Valverde’s uncharacteristic tolerance, and his apparent willingness to allow her to remain in his employment by fixing her up with another job. He might not approve of her, or of her friendship with Jasper Dysart, but clearly he respected his godfather’s fondness for her. Presumably that was why he wasn’t going to kick her when she was already down.

      ‘At his age, Jasper can’t hope to go on for ever,’ César gritted, his unease with her emotional breakdown blatant and icily reproving.

      Fighting to compose herself, Dixie blew her nose and sucked in a deep, steadying breath. ‘Will he be coming over to London this summer?’

      ‘I shouldn’t think so.’

      Then she would never see Jasper again, she registered on a powerful tide of pain and regret. The struggle to stay abreast of the debts Petra had left behind made a trip to Spain as out of reach as a trip to the moon.

      ‘It’s time we got down to business,’ César drawled with perceptible impatience. ‘I need a favour, and in return for that favour I’m prepared to settle your debts.’

      ‘Settle my debts…what favour?’ Dixie echoed, lost as to what he could possibly be talking about and stunned by the idea of him offering to pay off those appalling bills. A favour? What sort of favour? How could her staying employed in any capacity within the Valverde Mercantile Bank be any kind of a favour to César Valverde?

      César moved restively away from the desk and strode over to the window, the clear light of early summer glittering over his luxuriant hair and hard, classic profile. ‘In all probability, Jasper doesn’t have long to live,’ he spelt out harshly. ‘His dearest wish has always been that I should marry. At this present time I have no intention of fulfilling that wish, but I would very much like to please him with a harmless fiction.’

      A harmless fiction? Dixie’s bemusement increased as she strained to grasp his meaning.

      ‘And that is where you come in,’ César informed her drily. ‘Jasper likes you. He’s very shy with your sex, and as a result he only warms to a certain type of woman. Your type. Jasper would be overjoyed if I announced that we had got engaged.’

      ‘We…?’ Dixie whispered weakly, certain she had missed a connecting link somewhere in that speech and beginning to stand up, as if by rising from the chair she might comprehend something that she couldn’t follow while still sitting.

      César wheeled round, a forbidding cast to his lean features. ‘Your job would be to pretend that you’re engaged to me. It would be a private arrangement between us. You would play the role solely for Jasper’s benefit in Spain.’

      A curious whirring sound reverberated in Dixie’s eardrums. Her lungs seemed suddenly empty of oxygen. Disbelief paralysing her, she gazed wide-eyed across the room at César Valverde. ‘You can’t be serious… Me,’ she stressed helplessly, ‘pretend to be engaged to…to you?’

      ‘Jasper will be convinced. People are always keen to believe what they want to believe,’ César asserted with rich cynicism.

      As yet uncertain that this weird conversation was actually taking place, Dixie moved her head in a negative motion. ‘But nobody would believe that…that you and I…’ A betraying tide of colour slowly washed up her throat into her cheeks. ‘I mean, it’s just so unbelievable!’

      ‘That’s where your upcoming hard work and effort will pay off.’ Once again César studied her with that curious considering frown he had worn earlier. ‘I intend to make this charade as credible as possible. Jasper may be naive, but he’s no fool. Only when I’ve finished transforming you into a slim, elegant Dixie Mark Two will Jasper be truly convinced.’

      It crossed Dixie’s mind that César Valverde had been at the booze. A slim Dixie Mark Two? She snatched in a short, sustaining breath. ‘Mr Valverde, I—’

      ‘Yes, I expect you’re very grateful,’ César dismissed arrogantly, a scornful light in his brilliant dark eyes as he surveyed her. ‘In fact I imagine you can hardly credit your good luck—’

      ‘My good luck?’ Dixie broke in shakily, wondering how any male so famed for his perception could be so wildly off course when it came to reading her reactions.

      ‘An image makeover, a new wardrobe, all your debts paid and an all-expenses-paid trip to Spain?’ César enumerated with cool exactitude. ‘It’s more than good luck…from where you’re standing now, it’s the equivalent of striking oil in the desert wastes! And you don’t deserve it. Believe me, if I had an alternative choice of fiancée available you’d have been fired first thing this morning!’

      ‘I was the only choice, wasn’t I?’ Dixie gathered in a wobbly voice. ‘Your type,’ he had said minutes ago, the only woman liked by Jasper that César Valverde knew. A slim Dixie Mark Two? How dared he get as personal as that? Didn’t he even appreciate that she had feelings that could be hurt? But then why should he care, standing there all lean and fit and perfect, probably never having had to watch his