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Plucking some clean clothes out of her wardrobe, she shrugged them on and hurried out. Chances were the same people who’d used to work at the finca still lived in the village. She would seek them out and ask for advice.
Standing beneath the creaking hand-painted sign of the local bodega, Annalisa groaned. The owner, Juan, spoke a crazy form of Spanglish, but somehow they managed to communicate. She had gone straight to him, knowing he was a mine of information. But now… She blew some strands of hair off her face as she pulled away from the wall. Her head was bursting with facts. Whether she would be able to marshal them in time for her meeting with Señor Perez…
‘Pigs,’ she murmured fiercely, distractedly, as she marched off down the narrow pavement. That was one thing Juan had been adamant about. Pigs snuffled up the fallen fruit and kept the ground clean once it had all been cleared and weeded.
She stopped outside the bakery, not really seeing the rows of delicious pastries and fat crusty loaves, her mind full of Juan’s insistence that she clear out every single weed. She could have repeated his mantra by heart: weeds were the enemy; weeds drank all the water. And water… Annalisa’s mouth tipped down at the corners as she remembered what else he had said. ‘Feuds could last for generations where the precious agua was concerned.’
Didn’t she know it! she thought with a sigh, seeking sanctuary in the bakery.
‘Señorita?’
The vibrant woman behind the counter was the best possible advertisement for her fragrant assortment of freshly baked wares. Thrumming with vitality, she carried her weight lightly, and a dazzling flash of strong white teeth underscored the glow of genuine welcome in her attractive nut-brown eyes.
‘I don’t suppose…no,’ Annalisa said, shaking her head as if to shake some sense back into it. The smiling shopkeeper probably wouldn’t even understand her haphazard mix of Spanish and English, let alone know where she could lay her hands on some pigs.
‘How can I help you, señorita? What about this?’
Annalisa’s eyes cleared as she looked at the generous slice of moist chocolate cake the woman was holding out for her inspection. Tearing her gaze away from the delicious-looking treat, she exclaimed happily, ‘You speak English!’
‘Many years ago I worked in a household where English was spoken,’ the woman agreed cheerfully. Then, taking another glance at Annalisa, she placed the cake on her scales. ‘I recommend this when life gets on top of you. One bite and—’ She smacked her lips together and shut her eyes in sublime concentration.
It took Annalisa about two seconds to decide that a few moments of bliss couldn’t hurt. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she said reaching for her purse. ‘I’m Annalisa Wilson, by the way. I moved into the finca Fuego Montoya—’
‘And I am Maria Teresa Gonzalez,’ the cheerful assistant said placing the succulent portion of cake into a candyfloss-pink box. ‘If you need anything else, señorita,’ she insisted, deftly securing the container with a length of silver ribbon, ‘please don’t wait until you are worried. Come straight to me.’
‘Well, as it happens…’
Maria Teresa was the answer to her prayers, Annalisa mused, feeling a rush of confidence as she put the finishing touches to her make-up that evening. Now she could meet Ramon with her head held high. Half an hour with Maria was as good as a year in the village. Pigs? No problem. A lusty cockerel to drill some life into her lethargic hens? He would be delivered tomorrow.
Better yet, Maria shared the bakery business with numerous relatives and could spare the time to help out at the finca. And, as if that wasn’t enough, she knew every worker who had ever been employed at finca Fuego Montoya.
Oh, yes, Annalisa thought, taking a last look at herself in the mirror. Now she was ready for anything… Even Ramon Perez? a small but insistent voice in the back of her mind demanded. Narrowing her eyes, she answered back, ‘Oh, yes. Especially him.’
Never, never again! Annalisa buried her head under the black satin pillows as she tried to convince herself. But the erotic reminders were everywhere… In the crumpled bedding, the evocative scent of him, and in the gentle swell of the waves as they rocked her in this, Ramon’s cradle of seductive opulence.
OK, admit it, she thought, sitting bolt upright again. He had set the bait and she had gobbled it up. Had she no pride, no scruples, no principles? And that was just on the personal front. The thought that she had slept with a married man filled her with horror enough, but who in their right mind slept with the opposition? A first-year law student would have shown more sense!
