He was the type to grab a woman and kiss her until she slapped him and then leave her to the mercy of a hundred black-faced sheep.
‘Inherited?’ He appeared to inspect the word. ‘No, I earned it. Every acre, every pound of horse flesh, every match. No hand-outs,’ he said, with an emphasis that made her think she’d hit a nerve. He paused, taking a mouthful of wine. ‘I run a working estancia, Lulu,’ he added, meeting her eyes, ‘and I have a corporate portfolio that among other things supports our national polo team.’
‘That must keep you busy.’
‘You have no idea, querida.’
No, but she was going to. Once she started college in a month’s time, coupled with a full season at L’Oiseau Bleu. That was pretty impressive on its own, although she guessed it didn’t stand up to breeding horses and captaining his country in international polo matches.
‘I don’t know anything about polo, but it must take a lot of work—with the horses, I mean.’
‘You get out of it what you put in. But, sí, it’s all about the ponies. You’re only as competitive as your mount.’
She imagined he was incredibly competitive. You didn’t get to that level in a professional sport without it.
Weirdly, she liked it. She liked his assurance…the way he got things done. Mostly she liked talking like this with him.
For the first time it occurred to her that maybe she could have tonight for herself. The other girls weren’t here to tell him that there was something wrong with her…her parents weren’t here to make it abundantly clear that there was something wrong with her. She didn’t even have any responsibilities to Gigi tonight.
This could be her night. Which meant she had to stop talking on and on about polo!
She took a big gulp of wine. ‘Your parents must be proud of you.’
Alejandro shifted his long legs in front of the fire restlessly.
‘They divorced when I was fifteen,’ he said easily.
He was a child of divorced parents, just like her. They had something in common.
‘I didn’t have much to do with my father after that,’ he added, swirling the contents of his glass.
‘Divorce can be tough.’
He raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘My parents conducted a war of attrition, Lulu. Divorce was the day peace was declared.’
She knew e
xactly what he meant. But she wasn’t opening up that can of worms. ‘Did you stay with your mother?’
‘Sí, we stayed with her—my sisters and I.’ He took another mouthful of wine and then put down the glass. ‘Before you ask, querida, my mother is too busy with her new husband in Rio de Janeiro to follow my career now.’
Ouch. But he looked too big and tough to really care.
‘So your father put you on a horse—but why did you choose to play professionally once you grew up? You must enjoy it.’
‘I’m naturally competitive.’ He said it the same way someone might say their eye colour was brown. ‘I’ve had the opportunity to play against the world’s best. Why pass it up?’’
He made it sound so easy. Lulu wondered what he’d say if he knew that some days she couldn’t even go outside.
‘I admit polo takes up a lot of the time I’d prefer to spend on the ranch, but I think it’s worth it if my involvement helps popularise the sport. My ex-wife would probably disagree. Professional sport takes its toll on your personal life.’
‘You’ve been married?’
‘This surprises you?’
‘It’s just you don’t look like the marrying kind.’
He cast a speculative look her way. ‘What kind do I look like?’