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Hoping for time to walk on the beach, she’d dressed in cropped jeans and a lavender cotton shirt over a black bikini. As she left the house through the kitchen door, she found Rafael Mondragon leaning against the patio wall. Even with his hair slicked back and dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, he looked as dangerous as he had the previous evening.
She’d threatened to knee him and wouldn’t apologize how. After the way he’d looked at her, what could he have expected? Quite naturally, she hesitated to approach him. “My father’s with his doctor. Perhaps he’ll have time to see you later.”
Rafael straightened up and moved to block the path to the beach. “I came to see you, not him. Where did you learn to dance so well?”
She thought it odd he hadn’t asked the question last night. “Answer a question for me first. What did you expect when you invited me to dance? Were you hoping to embarrass me?”
His brows knit in confusion. “No, not at all. I would have made you look good even if you couldn’t dance a step.”
“Really?” She doubted it. “I began taking dance lessons when I was small. My mother hoped it would give me confidence and grace.”
Rafael took a step toward her. “Ballet, perhaps, but not flamenco. You dance with a Gypsy’s fire, and there are no lessons for that.”
“I’m half Spanish,” she reminded him.
“You don’t understand.” Rafael cursed under his breath.
He appeared to be sincerely pained, which struck her as odd. “How is a Gypsy different from anyone else?”
Rafael jammed his hands into his pockets. “We’re colorful outcasts, wanderers. You couldn’t possibly understand what it means to be completely alone.”
He’d dismissed her as rudely as he had on their first meeting, and she was doubly annoyed. “Is being obnoxious also part of your marvelous Gypsy heritage?”
“Don’t laugh at me,” he whispered hoarsely, his gaze narrowed to a dark threat.
“I’m not laughing,” she swore. “I don’t understand why you disliked me on sight. Perhaps your hostility serves you well in a bullring, but it’s inappropriate here. You’ve no idea if I’ve ever been lonely or not. Now, please step out of the way, and I’ll go on down to the beach.”
He moved aside, but when she passed him, he followed. “I don’t dislike you,” he murmured softly.
“Really? You were convincing.”
As they crossed the sand toward the water, he caught up with her in a single long stride. “It’s true I’m not fond of all women the way your father is. Do you like all men?”
“No, not every male on the planet. I do like a few, though.” She couldn’t help herself and laughed. “Please, I’m not laughing at you; this is just a silly conversation.”
“No one ever calls me silly.” Before he could suppress it, a slight smile quirked the corner of his mouth.
It was such an endearing expression and as surprising as the grin he’d worn while dancing with the two women. “No one dares!” she insisted.
He laughed and didn’t hide it. “You don’t care if I spend time with your father?”
“No, why should I?”
“It means he’ll have less time for you.”
“It’s his choice, not ours.”
He nodded but didn’t appear totally convinced. “How long will you be here?”
Before she could answer, Santos came running up from the damp sand at the shore. “Magdalena, the twins are hoping for dance lessons. They’re up the beach a way. You’ll find them easily.”
Rafael’s expression had fallen into his usual hostile sneer, and Maggie wondered if she’d really seen him smile or only imagined it. She turned to look back at her father’s house, but there was no one standing out on his balcony. She understood why Santos would be so protective and why Rafael would fight for Miguel’s attention. She knew better than to get between them. “All right. I’ll find the girls, and we’ll plan some lessons.” She strode off along the damp sand by the shore.
“Wait,” Rafael called. “We should dance together again.”
She glanced back and was struck by what a handsome pair the men were. Santos had been out for a run and wore shorts and a sweaty T-shirt, while Rafael was neatly dressed, but they were tall, lean and too handsome to go unnoticed no matter how large the crowd. Perhaps they were too much alike to be friends, but Santos was her brother, and she felt she ought to side with him.
“Maybe,” she replied and kept walking.
