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“No.” Her word was final. This was the one thing on which she and Emily didn’t see eye to eye. Matt wasn’t going to work a nighttime job like she’d done. In six months’ time, the admission exam for the exclusive Cartagena Advanced School of Arts was due. He had to work on his portfolio.
“It’s not fair that all of this should fall on your shoulders,” Emily insisted. “If I could help—”
“You’ve already done more than any grandmother could.” She closed the suitcase and picked up her industrial cosmetic box that held an array of aromatherapy oils and treatments. “Call me if anything happens.”
She didn’t have to elaborate. They both knew she was referring to Matt’s latest bout of rebellion. A drinking splurge, something foreign for Matt, had gotten him into trouble at his new school, and it had cost a lot of smooth talking to convince the principal not to expel him. Matt went to the American private school, with monthly fees so steep, it wouldn’t have been possible without a partial scholarship. She’d be damned before she’d see all that money wasted for nothing. If expelled, he’d have to attend the public school and take up Spanish. That wasn’t an option, not if he was going to get into art school.
Asia kissed her grandmother’s cheek and went to the kitchen where Matt sat by the small table, bent over his sketchpad.
She waited until he looked up and offered him a smile. “I’m off.”
He returned the gesture, giving her the scruffy grin the girls in his class swooned over. “It ain’t fair. I wish I was going to an island for a week.”
“You will. When you finish your degree and become famous, you’ll do whatever you want.”
He twisted the charcoal crayon between his fingers. “And I’ll buy you a big house and a fancy car.”
Not able to resist the urge, she ruffled his hair. “Be good.” Her voice turned serious. “Don’t give Granny a hard time, either.”
He pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “I’ll carry your bags for you.”
“It’s okay. I booked a taxi to drive me to the harbor.”
“I’ll carry them downstairs, then.”
At the street in front of their building, Asia gave Matt a quick hug and got into the back of the taxi while he loaded her luggage into the trunk. When the driver took off, she waved with a sense of sadness for leaving Emily and Matt behind, even if it was for just a week.
She leaned from the window and shouted on sudden impulse, “I’ll be back.”
Matt returned her wave. She watched his lanky form until the car took the bend and his profile was no longer visible. Somehow, she always felt she had to reassure him that she’d come back, that she’d never abandon him.
Sinking back against the faded and torn fabric of the seat cover, she wondered how it would be to spend a week in the close proximity of Sean Rivers. She’d been fuming when Jerry told her Sean was her rival in the fight for the premises. Jerry had tried his best to convince her to let Sean have it. The Scotsman had deliberately kept her in the dark. He could’ve said something when they’d met the previous morning, but instead he’d allowed her to get carried away with his intoxicating physique and the rush of an ordinary girl meeting someone famous, someone she actually thought she could look up to, only to humiliate her with biting sarcasm and unfriendly words.
Even if she hated admitting it, she wasn’t unaffected by the irritating man. His thick, copper hair had shone in the light of the morning. Although he’d regarded her with a cold expression, she was sure those eyes, as blue as the deepest ocean, had the ability to heat up. When they did, it had to be absolutely seductive. He looked as if he was chopped from granite. From the glimpse she’d had of the T-shirt that had stretched over his chest, the muscles underneath were hard and unrelenting, like those of a man who could hold a girl down and love her good. She flushed as the uninvited fantasy invaded her mind. Narrow hips, long legs, hard ass. She bit her lip and turned her mind away from the direction it was wandering. She had no business studying his groin, although it had been a long time since any man’s groin had captured her attention. The tattoo on his arm intrigued her. She wondered what it meant, and more specifically, what it meant to him. It had to be a big deal to have some formula etched on his body in ink.
What she should focus on was that he was a bastard who tried to trick her. It was a good thing Jerry had told her about the claim the superstar mixer was about to stake on her spa. Imagine, turning it into a cocktail bar. She snorted. She bet he enjoyed licking sticky juices off the bellies of willing young girls who laid themselves out on the bar for him. What kind of a man did that for a living? The pinch of envy she felt for the girl from last night had nothing to do with the way she felt about Mr. Rivers. He was a business rival. He wasn’t going to become anything more—not even a one-night stand.
