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‘I don’t understand,’ Rachel said helplessly. Mateo arched an eyebrow.
‘How to make a toastie? You did seem to be having trouble mastering the basics, but I was happy to step in.’
A smile twitched her lips, and Mateo realised how much he’d missed their banter. ‘Thank goodness for capable males,’ she quipped. ‘What on earth would I have done if you hadn’t been here?’
His lips quirked back a response. ‘Heaven only knows.’
‘I shudder to think. Careful it doesn’t burn.’ She nodded to the grill. ‘I’ll make my mother a cup of te
a—do you want another one?’
‘Not unless it has a generous splash of whisky in it.’
‘Sorry, I’m afraid that’s not possible. Not unless you want to nip out to the off-licence on the corner.’
He stepped closer to her. ‘What I really want is to take you to dinner to discuss my proposal properly.’
A look of fear flashed across Rachel’s face, surprising him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her actually look afraid before. ‘Mateo, I don’t think there’s any point—’
‘I think there is, and, considering how long we have known each other, I also think it’s fair to ask for an evening of your time. Assuming your mother can be left for a few hours?’
‘As long as she’s eaten and the TV’s on,’ Rachel answered with clear reluctance. ‘I suppose.’
‘Good. Then I will make arrangements.’ He slid his phone out of his pocket and quickly thumbed a text to the security guard he had waiting outside in a hired sedan.
Smoke began to pour out of the oven. ‘I think you’ve burned my mother’s toastie,’ Rachel said tartly, and with a wry grimace Mateo hurried to rescue the sandwich from the grill.
Half an hour later, Carol Lewis was settled in front of a lurid-looking programme, a toastie and cup of tea on her lap tray.
‘I’ll be back in about an hour, Mum,’ Rachel said, sounding anxious. ‘If you need anything, you can always knock on Jim’s door.’
‘Jim?’ Carol demanded. ‘Who’s Jim?’
‘Mr Fairley,’ Rachel reminded her patiently. ‘He lives in the flat upstairs, number two?’ Her mother harrumphed and Rachel gave Mateo an apologetic look as she closed her bedroom door. ‘Do I need to change?’
Mateo swept his glance over her figure, noting the way the soft grey cashmere clung to her breasts. ‘You look fine.’
Her lips twisted at that, although Mateo wasn’t sure why, and she nodded. ‘Fine. Let’s get this over with.’
Not a promising start, but Mateo was more than hopeful. The more he saw of Rachel’s life, the more he was sure she would agree...eventually.
Outside the drenching downpour had tapered off to a misty drizzle, and an autumnal breeze chilled the air. Rachel had shrugged on a navy duffel coat and a rainbow-colored scarf, and Mateo took her elbow as he led her to the waiting car.
‘We’re not walking?’
‘I made a reservation at Cotto.’
‘That posh place in the Gonville Hotel?’ She pulled her arm away from him, appalled. ‘It’s so expensive. And I’m not dressed appropriately—’
‘You’ll be fine. And we’re in a private room, anyway.’
She shook her head slowly, not looking impressed so much as uncertain. ‘Who are you?’
‘You know who I am.’
‘You never did this before. Private rooms, hired cars—’
‘I need to take necessary precautions for my privacy and security, as well as yours. Once it becomes known that I am the King of Kallyria—’
