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Ben’s comment made no sense until he expounded, ‘That your father is joint proprietor of a monthly glossy. That we publish Lifestyle among other less upmarket magazines. That our families are not short of cash.’
‘There speaks the accountant!’ Lisa derided gently. Ben had just finished a business accountancy course and on their return to England at the end of their holiday was to join the accounts department at Lifestyle.
‘No,’ Ben came back mildly. ‘There speaks an old friend who is concerned for your happiness. Marbella is a hot spot of wealth; it attracts con men and hangers-on like flies. Men who latch on to rich women for what they can get out of them. Has your Spanish waiter wheedled anything out of you, by any chance?’
‘Of course not!’ But Lisa was aware that her cheeks burned with guilt. He hadn’t wheedled that expensive watch out of her, she mentally defended. Far from it. He’d lost his own, explaining that the strap must have broken without him noticing it when he’d glanced at his naked wrist to check whether it was time for them to start heading back from the little secluded beach he’d taken her to.
That evening, while Sophie and Ben had been admiring the million dollar yachts in the marina, she’d slipped away and bought him a replacement, knowing he hadn’t much money to spare. A waiter’s wage wouldn’t be anything to write home about and he needed a watch. ‘And Diego doesn’t like Marbella—’ She wisely changed the subject. ‘We never go there—he says it’s too flashy, not the real Spain at all. We explore quaint little hill villages and off-the-track beaches.’
She loved Ben like a brother but was close to hating him for implying her beloved Diego was only interested in her for what he could get out of her. No way would she explain about the gift of that slim gold watch.
‘So when do we get to meet him?’ Sophie, the peace-maker, took her place at the table and reached for a crusty roll and the honey pot.
No answer, because there wasn’t one to give. She’d once suggested a foursome—she’d wanted him to meet her best friends—but Diego had asserted that he was a selfish man and wanted her all to himself.
And now they were on their way to meet him at last—at his suggestion. Ben’s comment had been a dry, ‘He picked the most expensive joint he could find. I wonder who’ll end up paying for the drinks and the meal!’
They were nearing the venue, the white futuristic hotel overlooking the gentle curve of the palm-fringed beach. Lisa’s heart swelled. It would be all right; it had to be! Ben would take back every insulting insinuation when he realised what a super guy Diego was.
In a way she could understand his reservations. Ever since they’d been children he’d looked out for her. He still did, and that probably had something to do with her tiny stature—five-two, small-boned, delicately slender and wide-eyed. If she’d been built more like Sophie, tall and big in the bosom and hip department, he might have had more confidence in her ability to look out for herself.
Not that his opinion would make any difference to the way she felt about the man she was determined to marry. But she didn’t want to quarrel with Ben; she was too fond of him.
‘Hey, you guys—come and look at this!’ Sophie cried. She’d been indulging in her favourite occupation, window-shopping, and was several yards behind them, her nose pinned to the window of a glitzy boutique. ‘Would my bum look big in this?’
Ever willing to indulge his twin, Ben turned to retrace his steps, smiling, and Lisa stood where she was, too wound up to ooh and ahh over whatever it was Sophie was coveting.
Glancing at her platinum Jaeger-Le-Coultre watch, an eighteenth birthday gift from her father who thought that material things made up for a lack of any overt signs of parental affection, she noted there were still thirty minutes to get through before they were due to meet Diego. It felt like a lifetime.
The town was beginning to gear up for the evening, more people strolling the pavements, wanting to see and be seen, more flash cars cruising. One car in particular caught her attention. A bright scarlet drop-head sports job driven by a glamorous creature who looked as if she’d just materialised from between the covers of a high fashion magazine. But it was her passenger who drew her widening eyes—Diego? Surely not!
Diego, his thick dark hair expertly groomed, wearing classy casual chinos and an open-necked sleeveless shirt in a matching cool stone colour that accentuated the warm olive tones of his skin instead of the beat-up shorts and vest tops she was used to seeing him in.
The sports car growled to a halt, parked illegally outside the sort of jeweller’s where the atmosphere would be too rarefied for ordinary mortals to breathe in, and Diego removed his arm from the back of the driver’s seat and exited.
He had obviously smartened himself up for his meeting with them at the hotel and he looked good enough to eat, the darling! Like them, he was half an hour early. The classy female must have given him a lift. She was probably resident at the hotel where he worked, had recognised him as the waiter who serviced the table she regularly used and had picked him up.
The explanations flashed with comforting swiftness through her mind, though the phrase ‘picked him up’ did have uncomfortable connotations, thanks to Ben.
About to call his name, wave to attract his attention, she was morbidly glad she hadn’t when he strolled round to the other side of the car, opened the door at the driver’s side and helped the glamorous creature out, holding her hands. And not letting them go.
She was gorgeous. In spiky high heels, she was three inches short of his six-one, the hem of her silky black dress way above her knees, the costly fabric clinging to every curve of her eye-popping body, her bare arms glinting with, it seemed, half a ton of gold bracelets.
Jewelled hands slid from his fingers and snaked up to cup his face as he leaned towards her, saying something, his lips curved in the teasing smile Lisa knew all too well. Her heart stopped beating as the woman leaned right into him, bestowing kisses on one lean hard cheek and then the other before tipp
ing her glossy head back, laughing up at him then leading him by the hand into the exclusive interior of the jeweller’s shop.
As her heart crashed back into action Lisa went hot all over, then cold. Icy cold. Her breathing erratic, she felt giddy. There had to be a perfectly feasible explanation for what she had just witnessed. Anything else was unthinkable. Her dazed brain tried to find one.
Instead it spitefully reminded her that classy customers didn’t go around kissing their waiters unless there was a high degree of intimacy between them. Then it made her recall her disbelief and disappointment when, the day before, he’d told her he wouldn’t be able to see her that morning.
‘Things to do,’ he’d said, ‘but we’ll be meeting up in the evening.’
If she’d been a couple of years younger she would have thrown a tantrum. As it was, she’d been very adult about being deprived of his company on what he thought was her last day in Spain. She had meant to surprise him when she returned after she’d persuaded her father that she was going to spend her entire gap year holed up in Marbella. So she’d merely nodded, ‘See you then,’ as if not seeing him during the day didn’t bother her.
Did ‘Things to do’, mean finding her replacement? If so, he’d hit the jackpot!
She shivered, swallowing down the sick feeling inside her, hating herself for thinking such a thing was possible. She rubbed a clammy hand over her forehead. It was all Ben’s fault. He had put the idea of charismatic, handsome young Spaniards sucking up to wealthy lone female holiday-makers for what they could get out of them into her head.
