‘Your father?’ she echoed, wariness flaring in her eyes. ‘He’s the one you were supposed to conference with?’
‘Until he cancelled on me for the fourth time this month.’
He sped through an amber light and onto Madison Avenue.
‘Speaking from personal experience, you don’t strike me as the type to sit back and let events unfold the way they want to. I’m assuming you know where your father is?’ she asked.
Exhaling, he nodded. ‘Yes, I do. But before you make the obvious suggestion, perhaps you should know that the last time my father and I were in the same room, we nearly came to blows.’
She gasped. ‘What?’
‘Sí, querida. He’s the only person, besides you, who arouses distinctly primitive feelings in me.’
Her lips parted, a look of bewilderment crossing her face before she looked out of her window. ‘I won’t take that as a compliment.’
‘My blood rarely gets this fired up so perhaps you should.’
‘Not if it incites violent feelings within you.’
‘Fired up doesn’t necessarily mean violent. I can think of a few ways to express my more nascent emotions.’
Colour flared into her cheeks. ‘I don’t see how expressing yourself that way helps with anything.’
‘Spare me the false naiveté, Carla.’
She shook her head, and the careless knot of her hair wobbled. He resisted the urge to hasten its demise and parked on a leafy street.
‘I only meant that the problems wouldn’t disappear simply because you...indulged yourself in another way.’
‘But if I can regress to my baser instincts and make love not war, wouldn’t that put me in a better frame of mind?’
‘You don’t truly believe that, or I wouldn’t be here.’
A rare chuckle ripped free. ‘Touché.’ He flung his door open and went round to help her out. Turning from him, she gazed up at the three-storey brownstone, one of many on the street.
‘Where are we?’
He shrugged. ‘Somewhere you’re guaranteed privacy. Come on.’ He walked round the side to a high, wrought-iron gate and entered the security code. The lock sprang open, and he led her through an ivy-laced trellised arch.
For a split second, Javier asked himself why he’d brought her here. There were many quiet parks he could’ve taken her to. Hell, with his afternoon suddenly free, he could’ve driven her to Connecticut or the Hamptons for her precious walk.
Her loud, pleased gasp pulled him from his short rumination.
‘Wow, this place is stunning!’
He turned and watched her reaction to the place his mother had loved, albeit never wholeheartedly, her deep attachment to her homeland overshadowing any other place on earth.
The smile Carla had so far only bestowed on others shone his way before she rushed past him to the large fountain and waterfall that trickled into an oval pond that still held fat koi. Miniature bonsai trees that his mother had loved to prune were dotted in pots around the garden and almost every type of rose bush budded, ready for the springtime bloom.
Still puzzling why he’d brought her here, he crossed his arms. ‘What’s the big deal about fresh air, anyway? Air is air. Fresh air is overrated.’ He was well aware he sounded like a grumpy ape.
She didn’t answer for a full minute, and Javier was sure she hadn’t heard his question since she’d stopped at a white rose bush and bent low to inhale the heady scent. Hell, she even took her time to caress a flower. As if she had all the time in the world to stop and smell the roses. He dragged his eyes from her delectable backside as she straightened.
‘I used to go for long walks with my mother when I was a child. Sometimes we’d be gone for hours. We’d compete to see who could name the most flowers. I secretly knew she was letting me win more often than not.’ The memory brought a sad smile.
It sounded idyllic. The ideal pastime for a perfect princess. Bitterness dredged up his gut. Something must’ve shown on his face because she swallowed, and let go of the delicate bud.
‘So, who does this garden belong to?’