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‘He—he’s not a man that finds commitment easy, Diego. I think something must have happened when he was young to make him fear it somehow, but he won’t discuss it. I told you that. And, to be fair, I guessed that even before I—before we—’ She blushed hotly. ‘It’s unfortunate, but I’m sure when he hears the news he’ll want to do the right thing all the same.’
‘And if he does not,’ Diego growled crossly, folding his arms across his ample chest in his treasured FC Barcelona T-shirt, ‘as God is my witness he will have to answer to me!’
Hawk’s Lair, Northumberland
His eyes glued to the details of the art auction, and the brief words about it at the beginning of the newspaper article, Blaise sucked in a deep breath, heavily blowing it out again as he tried to get his head round what he’d just read.
‘Would you like some more coffee, my dear?’ Lottie was hovering beside him, keeping one eye on the sizzling pan of bacon and eggs she was cooking for his breakfast on the stove as well as stealing a curious glance over his shoulder at what he was reading.
‘Yes…I mean no, thanks. I’ve got to go and make a phone call. Excuse me.’
‘What about your breakfast?’ the housekeeper exclaimed, her voice dismayed as Blaise shot out of his chair and strode to the door.
‘Sorry, Lottie…I’ve got far more important things to think about this morning. Give it to Tom. I’m sure he’d welcome a second breakfast!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN the phone call came to an end Maya had to sit down, because her legs were shaking so much. She’d scribbled something down on the notepad she now gripped between her hands like a life-raft, and, staring down at what she’d written, she felt a hundred differing emotions storm through her like a cyclone. There was a burning sensation behind the backs of her eyelids, and suddenly tears were sliding and slipping down her cheeks in a hot stream. Not troubling to wipe them away, she slowly moved her head from side to side, as regret and a sadness almost too hard to bear welled up inside her.
‘It’s time to say goodbye,’ she whispered brokenly, ‘but I promise I’ll never forget you.’
A minute later she got up, put on her trench-coat because outside it had started to rain, locked the door, and then walked rapidly down the street towards the bus stop to catch a bus that would drop her off near Diego’s place.
Today was the beginning of a whole new life for her after what she’d just heard, and she needed to share her hopes and fears for the future with a friend…a good friend.
It was late in the afternoon by the time Maya got to Camden. The sky had darkened early because of the storm clouds that had gathered overhead, and most of the shoppers were heading homewards. Diego’s distinct, brightly painted coffee bar, with its blue-and-white neon sign flickering in the window, was almost empty. The man himself was behind the counter, avidly scanning the sports page in a newspaper, while his young assistant Maria was busy wiping down tables. He glanced up in delight when he heard the bell over the door jangle and saw who it was.
‘Maya, querida! How are you today?’ Moving round the counter with all the grace of a much slimmer man, he enveloped her in a fierce hug. ‘Is everything all right? I am surprised to see you when I know the smell of coffee makes you queasy in your condition.’
‘I couldn’t let a small thing like that stop me visiting you.’ Maya smiled, then realised Diego was examining her a little too closely, concernedly shaking his head. ‘You have been crying, querida… what has happened? Sit down and tell me everything.’
Her friend ordered Maria to bring her a banana milkshake—for the baby!—and they sat opposite each other at a newly cleaned table, under the eye-catching poster of a flamenco dancer dressed in sultry red and black decorating the wall behind them.
Having only just begun her story, Maya glanced round at the sound of the bell jangling above the door and sucked in a shocked breath. It was Blaise. She blinked hard to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, but she’d know that flawless azure gaze, the carved jaw and the chin with the sexy little crease down the centre anywhere. Her insides mimicked the same intense flamenco as the dancer in the poster.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, and her mouth felt dry as a sun-baked beach at the height of summer. ‘I thought you were in New York?’
‘I came to find you,’ he replied hoarsely, for long moments just standing still and surveying her. Maya knew her gaze must match his for sheer hunger as she stared back at him. He looked every inch the successful Broadway playwright, dressed in a stylish mackintosh, the gold in his hair glistening with damp from the rain.
