‘Get in’ was all he said.
CHAPTER TWO
‘WHERE TO?’ MAXIMO demanded as the woman slid her damp and shivering body onto the seat beside him and his chauffeur shut the door on the howling night.
‘I was on my way h-home.’
‘I’d kind of worked that out for myself,’ he said, steeling himself against the strangely seductive stumble of her words. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Right on the edge of town, towards the moors.’ She turned her face towards his in the dim light of the limousine and he could hear the faint deference in her voice. ‘It’s very kind of you to give me a lift, Señor Diaz.’
‘I’m not known for my kindness,’ he told her, with impatient candour. ‘But you’d have to be pretty hard-hearted to drive past a woman standing alone at a rainy bus stop on a night like this.’ He stared at the raindrops which glittered on her pale cheeks and lowered his voice. ‘The question is whether you want me to drive you home, or did your mother warn you never to accept lifts from strangers?’
‘You’re not exactly a stranger, are you?’ she answered primly. ‘And since you’re offering, then I’ll accept. Thank you. It’s a rotten night and it really is very...nice of you.’
Nice as well as kind? Maximo almost laughed as he leaned forward to tap the glass and the big car moved forward. When was the last time he’d been described in such glowing terms? The nurses who had cared for his mother in her final days would certainly never have subscribed to such a favourable opinion, but their views on the world had been as black and white as the habits they wore. Nice sons did not neglect their dying mother, nor remain dry-eyed as she shuddered out her last breath.
‘Anyway, you can call me Maximo. And put on your seat belt,’ he ordered, dragging his thoughts back from the painful past to the woman still shivering beside him.
‘I’m trying.’
Waving away her fumbling fingers, he leaned over to slot in her seat belt and as he again caught a drift of scent which was more soap than perfume, he wondered if his behaviour really was motivated by a stab of chivalry and nothing more. Because wasn’t the truth that tonight he had wanted her—and not in some hypothetical role as his ideal secretarial assistant? Hell, no. Tonight, all the softness and sweetness he’d previously associated with her had collided with a totally unexpected raunchy version, which had planted desire stubbornly in his mind. And he hadn’t seemed able to shift it...
Either way, he hadn’t intended to take it any further, for what would be the point? She was a small-town woman and he was just...passing through. He didn’t do one-night stands. He never had, for all kinds of reasons. They were too messy and had the potential to be complicated, and complicated was something he avoided at all cost. So he had left the hotel and the humdrum party and convinced himself he would quickly forget her—at least until next time he ran into her, if indeed he did. Only by then, she would be back to normal. He wouldn’t be dazzled by that very obvious visual stimulant of a short, figure-hugging dress, because she would be back in her drab clothes—barely meriting a second glance as he signed off on his castle purchase. And that would be an end to it. Adios. He wasn’t intending to stay in this claustrophobic town for a second longer than he needed to. He would sign on the dotted line, put his deal into rapid motion—and nobody would see him for dust.
And then fate had conspired to put her directly in his path—quite literally. No longer a red-and-white-stockinged elf, but a wet and bedraggled woman standing by the roadside. Shivering.
‘You’re cold,’ he observed.
‘A bit.’
Commanding his driver in Spanish to increase the heat, he turned to her.
‘How’s that? Any better?’
‘Much better.’ She wriggled around in the seat a little. ‘It’s weird but even the seat feels warm.’
‘That’s because it’s heated.’
‘Your car seat has a heater?’
‘It’s hardly at the cutting edge of invention,’ he said drily. ‘Most new cars do.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘I’ve never owned a car.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and a few raindrops sprayed over in his direction. ‘There’s never really been any reason to have one. I used to live in London, where it’s impossible to park, and I don’t need one here. We need to turn left, please. Just there, past the lamp post.’
Maximo met his driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and the man gave a barely perceptible nod of comprehension as he started to negotiate the turn. ‘So how do you manage without one?’
‘Oh, it’s easy enough. I walk—when the weather’s fine. Or I use my bike. These country roads around here are glorious in the springtime.’
Inadvertently, an image strayed into his mind of a woman on a bicycle, her long shiny hair flowing behind her, while pale flowers sprang in drifts along the hedgerows. He had just allowed this uncharacteristically romantic fantasy to incorporate an element of birdsong, when he heard her teeth begin to chatter.
‘You’re still cold,’ he observed.
‘Yes. But we’re here now. It’s the last house—just before the road turns into a mud track,’ she was saying, pointing towards a small, darkened house in the distance. ‘That’s right. Stop just here.’
The car drew to a halt and Maximo saw the chauffeur unclip his seat belt, obviously intending to open the car door, but something compelled him to halt his action with a terse command.
‘Permitame...’ Maximo murmured, getting out and going to Hollie’s side of the car. And even while he was opening the door for her, he was telling himself there was no need to behave like some old-fashioned doorman—not when he’d already played the Good Samaritan and given her a lift home. But somehow he wasn’t interested in listening to reason and indeed, he seemed impervious to the hard lash of rain on his face.
‘You’re getting wet!’ she protested.
‘I’ll survive.’
That look of hesitation was back on her face again. ‘Would you...?’ She glanced up at the darkened cottage and then back at him as if summoning up a courage she didn’t normally call on. ‘Would you like to come in, for a cup of coffee? Just as my way of saying thank you? No, that’s an absolutely stupid suggestion. I don’t know why I made it. Forget it. Forget I said anything.’ She shook her head as if embarrassed. ‘I’m sure you have somewhere else you need to be.’
He saw the doubt which crossed her face, echoing the ones which were proliferating inside his own head, because this wasn’t his style. Not at all. He didn’t frequent houses like this and he didn’t know women like her. Not any more. He’d left the world of mediocrity behind him a long time ago and had never looked back.