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Lulu looked away.
Ah, oui, this was her new little problem. She had discovered now she felt physically better that she was responding to that Latin machismo thing some women went a little silly over. She might not have a boyfriend as such, but she did have hormones.
She really needed to make a big effort to curb her imagination.
People were looking his way as he approached the car. So maybe she wasn’t the only one. She had to admit he had the impervious aura of confidence that belonged to someone for whom the small stuff of life was taken care of. She imagined Alejandro du Crozier rarely fuelled up his own car, although he’d taken care of it easily enough.
She had watched him do it through the side mirror—watched him sticking the petrol gun into the tank. There was something about a man’s broad forearm, a chunk of watch, a powerful wrist and a strong hand gripping the nozzle that put all sorts of erotic images into a woman’s head.
Admittedly they were images mostly gleaned from books she’d read. Her personal notebook of erotic experiences was fairly limited.
Alejandro tossed a wrapped sandwich onto her lap as he eased in beside her and turned the engine over.
‘Ham salad. It’s not much, but it should tide you over until we reach Dunlosie.’
Lulu wondered if this was him thawing towards her. Whatever it was, it was a thoughtful gesture. ‘Thank you,’ she said uncertainly, and busied herself with unwrapping her sandwich.
She could feel his eyes on her.
‘Would you like half?’ she offered.
Alejandro had bought the sandwich with an eye to her turning up her pert little nose at plastic-wrapped food. His preconceptions took a solid hit.
‘I had a king’s breakfast,’ he said shortly. ‘Eat up.’
Lulu gave an internal sigh. So much for the thaw.
Half an hour up the road, Alejandro flipped his phone onto speaker.
A male voice began to speak in Spanish, and Alejandro replied in the same language.
Lulu found herself transfixed by the deep, mellifluous quality of his voice as he spoke his own language. Then a Scot’s voice came on the line.
‘We’re pleased to have you here in Edinburgh, Mr du Crozier. Congratulations on captaining South America to that win in Palermo. It warms a Scotsman’s heart to see the English floundering on a field.’
Lulu’s head snapped around at that. What was this?
Alejandro chuckled. ‘No problem at all,’ he said easily in his smooth, deep voice. ‘It was a good match.’
Lulu felt as if she’d had the rug pulled out from under her. Where had this come from? The smile, the ease, the charm?
‘We will be sending our principal to you tomorrow, at your convenience and we’ll give you an aerial viewing of the property. Will it be just you, Mr du Crozier?’
‘Possibly one other.’ Alejandro glanced her way. ‘Two o’clock looks good.’
As he ended the call Lulu told herself not to make any enquiries—she would only look nosey.
‘I’m looking at property while I’m here,’ he said, his eyes on the road. ‘I’m thinking of investing in a golf course. It’s on a picturesque strip of land along the coast near Dunlosie.’
He didn’t look like a golfer. Although she suspected those broad shoulders and strong arms could hit a golf ball to the moon and back.
‘Do you play golf professionally?’ she ventured. When he raised an eyebrow she added hurriedly, so that she didn’t look stupid, ‘That man said something about you captaining a team?’
He smiled slightly. ‘Polo. I captained South America.’ He was watching her as if gauging her reaction. ‘It received some press coverage.’
Vaguely his name stirred a memory. She rather thought she ought to know it.
‘I have a little fame, Lulu.’
