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He shot her a droll look of amusement. “I doubt luck had anything to do with it.”
Her smile was genuine. “Of course it plays a part. The questions catered well to my knowledge.”
“Knowledge you obtained by studying long and hard.”
She dipped her head forward in a silent concession. Her brown hair fell like a curtain.
“What do you intend to study at university?”
“I’ve been accepted into English at Oxford, and Economics at Cambridge.”
“Economics and English? Two vastly different courses. Which is your preference?”
She shrugged. “I like the idea of both. I just want to learn. I can’t wait to get to university.” Her smile was overflowing with enthusiasm. “I can’t imagine what it will be like to be surrounded by people who are smart and motivated and totally wrapped up in academia.”
He walked quietly beside her, his brain ticking over. “But surely of the two you have an area that interests you most?”
Carrie bit down on her lip. “I don’t know. I mean, I love both. And for different reasons. I’m going to tour the campuses and then make my choice.” She slowed her pace and tilted her face to look at him. “What do you recommend?”
“Me?” Gael was not comfortable advising her. He scanned her face thoughtfully, unsure exactly what it was about this young English woman that made him uneasy. “I couldn’t say.”
“But you studied economics, didn’t you?” She pushed.
He let out a slow sigh. “I did.”
“And are you glad?”
“Am I glad?” His brow furrowed. “It serves me well. But I did not attend university for enjoyment; I studied as a means to an end.”
“Right. To run your father’s company.”
His laugh was a humourless tone in the cavernous hallway. “No. To avoid running my father’s company.”
It fascinated her. She knew that he’d taken over as chairman of Vivas Industries straight out of college, and that it was still one of the companies that was controlled under the umbrella of his own corporation. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand?” She prompted, her interest undisguised.
“No,” he agreed quietly, his dark eyes probing her face gently. “I would say you don’t.” He shook his head, as if to physically shift the conversation. “I am sure you’ll enjoy whichever degree you choose.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes drawn to his face. She had never anticipated having such an easy conversation with him. Up close, he was so much more fascinating than from a distance. When they’d danced at the wedding, she’d been too nervous to properly appreciate the details. The light smattering of freckles across the tanned bridge of his nose; the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. She fumbled her fingers in front of her.
“What kind of sandwich would you like?” She asked, as she stepped ahead of him into the kitchen.
He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Whatever you suggest, Carrie.”
Was she imagining the teasing note to his voice? Blood pounded through her seventeen year old body, as every dream and fantasy she’d conjured since meeting Gael came back to haunt her. She spun away from him to hide the betraying flush in her face. “Umm,” she whispered, her breath snatched in her throat. “I think we have some ham somewhere.”
“Ham will be fine,” Gael responded quietly, his manner so beautifully intriguing that Carrie thought she might have died and gone to heaven.
Under his watchful gaze, she spread butter and mayonnaise onto rye bread, then layered some ham in the middle. Her eyes flicked to his and then dropped back to the sandwich; her temperature soared and her stomach clenched in almost-painful awareness. She moved the knife through the bread, her fingers shaking a little as she placed the two triangles onto a delicate Royal Albert plate and handed it to the man who was technically her stepbrother.
“Gracias,” he said with the hint of a smile. The single Spanish word was like lemon and olives on a summer’s day. She let the sound of it flick over her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.
“How is your mother?”
Again, Carrie wondered if she was imagining that slightly scathing tone to his voice. It made her pause for a moment, but she would do anything rather than cut short this delicious slice of time – this moment when Gael Vivas was hers. When he was actually interested in talking to her.
Carrie shifted her shoulders, her fingers toying with the lid of the butter. “She’s … fine.”
Gael nodded, and his dark eyes glowed as though they were comprehending so much more than she was saying. “I suppose you do not see her or my father often.”
