A Spanish Affair. HELEN BROOKS

after the men in her flapping wellington boots. She made sure she had no eye contact at all with Matt, even when he spoke directly to her as she found herself walking with him to the parked cars. ‘Thank you, Georgie, that’s your job here done for today,’ he said easily. ‘We are going to grab a spot of lunch before we finish off this afternoon. Would you care to join us?’

      ‘I don’t think so.’ She looked somewhere in the middle of his tanned throat as she said quietly, ‘I’ve things to do back at the office.’ The last thing, the very last thing in all the world she wanted to do was to sit in a social atmosphere and make small talk with Matt de Capistrano.

      ‘But surely you will have to eat?’ he persisted softly.

      ‘I’ve brought sandwiches which I’ll eat at my desk.’

      ‘How industrious of you.’

      Sarcastic swine! ‘Not really,’ she answered tightly. ‘I want to telephone a few places and set up the arrangements for Robert’s children’s birthday party. It’s been pretty busy over the last few weeks and it’s only just dawned on us they’ll be eight in two weeks’ time. We want to make their birthday as special as we can for them.’

      He nodded as she forced herself to meet the grey eyes at last. ‘What are you planning?’ he asked, as though he were really interested.

      Which she was sure he wasn’t, Georgie thought cynically. Why would a multi-millionaire like Matt de Capistrano care about two eight-year-olds’ birthday party? ‘A hall somewhere with a bouncy castle and so on,’ she answered dismissively.

      ‘Ah, yes, the bouncy castle.’ He looked down at her, his piercing eyes glittering pewter in the sunshine. ‘My nephews and nieces enjoy these things too.’

      He was an uncle? Ridiculously she was absolutely amazed. Somehow she couldn’t picture him as anything other than a cold business tycoon, but of course he would have a family. Robert had mentioned in passing some days ago that Matt de Capistrano was not married, but that didn’t stop him being a son or a brother. She brought her racing thoughts under control and said quietly, ‘Children are the same everywhere.’

      ‘So it would seem.’ He looked at her for a second more before turning to glance at Robert in the distance, who was still deep in conversation with the chief architect. ‘I will take you back to the office while the others finish off here and meet them at the pub,’ he said expressionlessly.

      ‘No.’ It was too quick and too instinctive and they both recognised it. Georgie felt her cheeks begin to burn and said feverishly, ‘I mean, I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble and Robert won’t mind. Or, better still, I could take his car and he can go with you—’

      ‘It is no trouble, Georgie.’ The words themselves were nothing; the manner in which they were said told her all too clearly she had annoyed him again and he was now determined to have his own way. As usual.

      Could she refuse to ride with him? Georgie’s eyes flickered to Robert’s animated face and her brother’s excitement was the answer. No, she couldn’t. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind,’ she said weakly, striving to act as if this was a perfectly normal conversation instead of one as potentially explosive as a loaded gun.

      ‘Not at all.’ He bent close enough for her to scent his male warmth as he said softly but perfectly seriously, ‘The pleasure will be all mine.’ And he allowed just a long enough pause before he added, ‘As we both know.’

      This time Georgie couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and so she stood meekly at his side as he called to Robert and informed him he would see them all at the White Knight after he had taken Georgie back to the office. Her eyes moved to the red Lamborghini crouching at the side of the road. She had never ridden in a Lamborghini before; in fact she hadn’t seen one this close up before either. Perhaps at a different time with a different driver the experience would be one to be savoured, but the car was too like its master to be anything else but acutely disturbing.

      It was even more overwhelming when she found herself in the passenger seat and Matt shut the door gently behind her. She felt as though she was cocooned in leather and metal—which she supposed she was—and the car was so low she felt she was sitting on a level with the ground. However, those sensations were nothing to the ones which seized her senses once Matt slid in beside her.

      The riot in her stomach was flushing her face, she just knew it was, but she couldn’t do a thing about it, and when Matt turned to her and said quietly, but with a throb of amusement in his voice, ‘Would you like to take those off?’ as he nodded at her boots which were almost reaching her chin she stiffened tensely. How like him to point out she looked ridiculous, she told herself silently. He couldn’t have made it more clear he found her totally unattractive. But that was fine; in fact it was great. Really great. Because that was exactly how she viewed him.

      ‘No.’ She forced herself to glance haughtily his way and then wished with all her heart she hadn’t. He was much, much too close.

      ‘I can come round and slip them off for you if it’s difficult with that tight skirt?’ he offered helpfully.

      Georgie felt more trapped than ever. ‘No, I’m fine,’ she said tightly, staring resolutely out of the windscreen.

      ‘Georgie, it is the middle of the day and I am giving you a lift back to the office,’ he said evenly. ‘Can’t you let yourself relax in my company for just a minute or two? I promise you I have no intention of diverting to a deserted lane somewhere and having my wicked way with you, even if you do view me as a cross between the Marquis de Sade and Adolf Hitler.’

      Shocked into looking at him again, she said quickly, ‘I didn’t think you were and of course I don’t think you’re like either of those two men!’

      ‘No?’ It reeked of disbelief.

      ‘No.’ This was awful, terrible. She should never have got into this car.

      He raised his eyebrows at her but then to her intense relief he turned, starting the engine, which purred into life with instant obedience.

      She turned back to the windscreen, but not before she had noticed the lingering amusement curling the hard mouth. He was obviously enjoying her discomfiture and, more to show him she was completely in control of herself than anything else, Georgie said primly, ‘This is a very nice car.’

      ‘Nice?’ He reacted as though she had said something unforgivable. ‘Georgie, family saloons are nice, along with sweet old maiden aunts and visits to the zoo and a whole host of other unremarkable things in this world of ours. A Lamborghini—’ he paused just long enough to make his point ‘—is not in that category.’

      She’d annoyed him. Good. It felt great to have got under that inch-thick skin. ‘Well, that’s how I see it,’ she said sweetly. ‘A car is just a car, after all, a lump of metal to get you quickly from A to B. A functional necessity.’

      ‘I’m not even going to reply to that.’

      She saw him glance down at the leather steering wheel and the beautiful dashboard as though to reassure himself that his pride and joy was still as fabulous as he thought it was, and she repressed a smile. Okay, she was probably being mean but, as he’d said earlier, he was a big boy; he could take it. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,’ she lied quietly.

      ‘Sure you are.’ The husky, smoky voice caught at her nerve-ends and she allowed herself another brief peek at the hard profile. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up at some point during the morning and his muscled arms, liberally covered with a dusting of black silky hair, swam into view. His shirt collar was open and several buttons undone and his shoulders were very broad. His body had an aggressive, top-heavy maleness that was impossible for any female to ignore.

      The incredible car, the man driving it so effortlessly, the bright May sunshine slanting through the trees lining the road down which they were travelling—it was all the stuff dreams were made of, Georgie thought to herself a touch hysterically. He was altogether larger than life,