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Oh, God, what was happening to her? Her mouth was dry and when she lifted her reluctant gaze back to his face she saw he’d turned and a hint of sardonic amusement danced in the depths of his eyes, bringing another flush of pink to her cheeks.
‘Here,’ she muttered, pushing the wine glass towards him.
He held her gaze as he took it, a smile playing about his lips. ‘Gracias.’
‘You’re Spanish?’ she heard herself say and then winced. Why was she making small talk with him?
‘Sí.’ The word resonated with something spicy and mysterious and, despite the fact it was now raining, she was reminded of the day’s sunshine and warmth.
She needed to focus. Why was he here?
‘What’s your name?’
‘Antonio Herrera,’ he said, and Amelia frowned, her eyes sweeping shut for a moment.
She felt his gaze, heavy and intent on her face, and her skin goosebumped once more. There was something in her mind, a memory, but it was distant and when she tried to grab it, to focus on it, the thing slipped away from her, like trying to catch a piece of soap that had been dropped into the bath.
‘I know that name.’
‘Do you?’ he murmured, the words throaty.
He held his wine glass to hers, a salute, and she completed it on autopilot. Only their fingertips brushed together and it was as though Amelia had been thrown from an aeroplane. Her stomach twisted in a billion knots and she was in freefall, everything shifting and pulling and nothing making sense. The world was over-bright and her senses jangling. His eyes were merciless, pinning her to the spot, and from grey to black they went once more. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
‘Why do I know your name?’ she asked when the answer hadn’t come to her. Then, like a bolt of lightning, she remembered. ‘Oh! Of course!’
Did his shoulders tighten? Or was she imagining it? ‘Yes?’
Hadn’t she realised he was a man used to being in command? A figure of dominance and assertiveness?
‘You’re that guy,’ she said, clicking her fingers together. ‘I read about you a while ago. You bought that airline and saved all those people from getting fired.’
‘Being made redundant,’ he clarified. ‘And that’s not why I bought the airline.’
‘No?’
‘It was going for a song.’ He shrugged.
‘I see,’ she said thoughtfully, wondering why he was downplaying the altruism of the purchase. He didn’t really care about twenty thousand people poised to be out of work if the airline went bust? Or did he want her to think he didn’t care?
Her eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘And you invest in schools in eastern Europe. And hospitals.’
He arched a brow. ‘You seem to know quite a bit about me.’
‘It was a long opinion piece,’ she explained, her cheeks heating. ‘And I like to read the paper. From cover to cover.’ She was babbling a little. When she’d moved to her father’s home, she’d been surrounded by men like this. Well, not precisely like this; he was somewhat unique. But men who were just a little too much of everything. Too handsome, too sharp, too rich.
And she’d never felt overawed by those qualities before. Having seen her mother fall under their spell time and time again, she’d always been determined to remain immune to those charms.
Then again, she supposed it was a little like the aquarium effect.
‘The aquarium effect?’ he prompted, and Amelia was mortified to realise she’d been speaking out loud.
She turned away from him, walking unsteadily towards an armchair and sitting in it, then immediately wishing she hadn’t when their height disadvantage became even more apparent.
‘Please, take a seat.’ She gestured towards the sofa.
‘Sure. If you’ll elaborate,’ he drawled. ‘I should like to see if you are comparing me to a shark or a seal.’
Her laugh was spontaneous. She watched covertly as he sat—not on the sofa but in the armchair across from hers, his long legs stretched out and dangerously close to her own legs.
