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There’d been no blushing when their eyes had tangled, his dark and unreadable. A crisp nod had said it all.
‘And Maude,’ he had added in a lazy drawl, ‘I know that, now we’re here, there’s no game playing but there’s really no need for you to dress formally.’
Standing out on the wide, marble-floored veranda that gave onto views of the open countryside, with nightfall throwing everything into dark relief and with the last of the guys from the vinery gone for the evening, Maude had shivered.
Behind them, two of the practically invisible members of staff were clearing away the vast array of wine glasses which had been used to taste various reds—two from Mateo’s own estate, the rest from other vineries in the area. An elaborate meal had been served earlier in a formal dining room.
‘I wasn’t dressed formally. I didn’t think so,’ she had responded, and his eyebrows had shot up.
‘Don’t forget,’ he’d murmured, the hairs on the back on her neck standing on end, ‘That I know what you look like when you decide to do away with the starchy outfits. I know this isn’t officially aholiday,and I realise that work is on the agenda, but you’re in my home and I would like you to try and unwind as much as you can.’
The gauntlet had been thrown down.
Stiff and formal would signify that the problem was definitely on her side, that she couldn’t relax around him...and, if that were the case, would he read anything into it?
Yes, he would. He would wonder why she was suddenly so skittish around him when she had been the ultimate professional in the past. And how long would it be before he concluded that he got under her skin because she was attracted to him? He was quite accustomed to those reactions from women, after all.
On the spot, Maude decided that she would ditch the three prissy skirts and the two loose, comfortable, buttoned-up blouses and resort to the culottes, khaki shorts and tee-shirts she had added to the pile on the spur of the moment.
Stepping out of her comfort zone, she resolved, would be good for her...
Mateo was waiting on the veranda for Maude to join him. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed the privacy of this sprawling villa, and the vineyard, which had been his life’s ambition from when he’d been a kid. He came at the most a couple of times a year and never for longer than a weekend. He’d never brought a woman here. As he gazed over the dark shapes of the hills, and the marching silhouettes of the grape vines, he couldn’t help but think how ironic it was that the first woman to come here was someone he was supposedly engaged to, to dodge the sort of tawdry publicity that would have prolonged a situation not of their making.
The breeze was cool. He could detect the rustle of trees, leaves and grapes swinging on vines. The smell was fragrant. How could he have forgotten what peace felt like? Naturally, there was work to be done here.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Maude that it would be something of a busman’s holiday. He and three high-profile businessmen with small but profitable vineyards were planning to expand into the community and breathe much-needed extra life into the area that had been good to them over the years. It had been something in the making for the past year and a half. This was a perfect opportunity to start the groundwork, but right now...?
He had the strangest urge toplay truant.
He’d never had that urge. Even as a school boy, playing truant hadn’t been on his radar. Playing truant was for losers whose life ambitions were no higher than the gutter.
For Mateo? He had always been far too driven and far too focused to go down that road. Even to contemplate it.
So why now?
Because his mind was preoccupied with other things... With a woman who had taken him by surprise and was now holding him captive to an attraction he couldn’t seem to sideline...
It wasn’t going to do.
He straightened as he heard the soft pad of her footsteps behind him, pausing by the bespoke glass doors that opened out concertina-style to the back veranda, a seamless divide between exterior and interior.
He turned around and hissed under his breath.
How the heck was a man supposed to concentrate on anything when he was confronted by a woman with those assets?
She was in pale-green loose culottes and a simple, white V-necked tee-shirt. But under those culottes he could define the length of her legs and, under that tee-shirt, the heavy swing of her generous breasts.
He lowered his eyes and moved towards her, aware of his body reacting against all the diktats of his brain.
‘I hate to break the news,’ he opened, reaching for a bottle of white from the silver wine-cooler on one of the many tables on the veranda. ‘But Alberto isn’t going to make it tonight. Problems with his mother. She’s been taken to hospital with pains in her chest.’
‘Oh, my. I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Wine?’
‘A small glass, if we’re going to be working...’
‘Might be a bit of a stretch without his input, but of course. I see you’ve come equipped with your laptop.’
