‘Did London fulfil your expectations? Do you want to go back?’
‘To living in one room in someone else’s house?’ She laughed. ‘Don’t get me wrong—the job was brilliant. I learned so much and had the most wonderful colleagues. I made lots of friends...’
‘I’m sure you did.’ There was an edge to Dante’s voice. What did he imagine she meant?
‘The type of friends you share a pizza with, maybe pick up some restricted-view seats in the West End to see a show.’
‘Sounds...’
‘Interesting?’ she suggested with a grin. ‘You’ve got no idea. It was fun and it was formative. You don’t need money to enjoy life. And I appreciate the quiet of Yorkshire and the peace of your estancia so much more now. The calm certainty and trust in the eyes of the animals we both love is enough for me. And yes, London’s hectic and crowded, but it’s fabulous too. There’s so much to see, and not all of it has to be paid for. I always think that people like me with hardly any money can have the very best of London at their fingertips.’
Dante frowned. ‘How’s that?’
‘There are so many opportunities available if you search them out. Loads of places are free to visit. There are beautiful parks and glorious buildings, and the river—’ Was she boring him with her ultimate guide to the simple life? Dante’s life was so very far removed from Jess’s experience, it was hard to tell.
But his life on the ranch was low-key.
True, she conceded.
‘Anyway, enough about me. Why don’t we turn the spotlight on you?’
‘I’d have to want you to do that,’ Dante pointed out, ‘and I don’t.’
Undaunted, Jess pressed on. ‘I don’t imagine you have to hunt for parking spaces, catch a bus or miss the last Tube home.’
‘I do have a house in London,’ he revealed, ‘but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to see your side of London one day.’
‘I’d be a flat-out liar if I didn’t admit I’d like to see yours,’ Jess admitted on a laugh.
‘Are we talking compromise?’ Dante enquired with a frown.
His expression was more amused than disapproving. ‘We’re talking,’ she conceded with a smile.
Dante’s sideways look made heat rush through her. ‘It must have been hard for you.’
‘No harder than it is for other people. What’s hard about working alongside people I really liked and admired or being taught the skills that allow me to help people like you? I count that as a real privilege.’
‘A vocation?’
‘If you like.’
‘You must miss your colleagues now you’re self-employed.’
‘We keep in touch, and I meet new people all the time. My life is rich and varied, so please don’t feel sorry for me.’ It’s one heck of a sight better than your life in your grass-fed ivory tower, Jess concluded. Dante’s inactivity was obviously eating away at him. She didn’t need to be a medical professional to see that.
‘So why physiotherapy?’
‘Why specialise? It seemed an obvious choice. I grew up in the horse world where, like any extreme sport, there’s always a need for medical professionals on standby. My skills allow me to work close to the animals I love, with the people surrounding them.’
‘An introduction from me into the world of top-class polo wouldn’t hurt your career,’ Dante stated bluntly.
‘No, it wouldn’t,’ she agreed, ‘but that’s a very cynical view. This isn’t about me; it’s about you, and returning you to fitness. I don’t know who’s used you in the past, but please don’t tar me with the same brush. What you see is what you get with me. Take it or leave it.’
‘But there’s another side to your character.’
‘Skylar?’ she queried, cocking her head to one side to smile up. ‘That’s just a childhood nickname.’
‘That suits you,’ he said.
‘Sometimes,’ she agreed, ‘but a name doesn’t change me.’
‘Just how you act,’ he suggested.
‘In a fortune-telling tent, maybe,’ Jess conceded, ‘but doesn’t everyone have two sides to their character—private and public?’
He stared at her long and hard.
‘There are a lot of genuine people out there,’ she insisted, feeling she was being judged. ‘You don’t have to look any further than your ranch.’
‘I hand-pick my staff.’
‘While I was foisted on you?’ Jess suggested lightly, but Dante didn’t answer.
They had reached the main square. Guessing he must be desperate to break free, she suggested a plan. ‘Leave me here. I’ll take a cab back to the ranch.’
‘I have something to drop off at my lawyer’s office. You can shop while I do that, then we’ll eat and I’ll drive you back.’
A restaurant was a public place. There was no harm in eating with a patient and if he caught up with her shopping, Dante could advise on what Maria might like.
‘Okay. I’ll see you around here,’ she agreed. ‘But please, no swanky eateries. I’m not dressed for it; I’d feel uncomfortable.’
‘I’ve got a restaurant in mind,’ he informed her. ‘Don’t worry; it’s casual. I think you’ll like it.’
Nothing like her local greasy spoon, she guessed, but anything was fine by her.
She stood to watch as Dante made his way across the square. Taller than most, he was a standout figure. It was impossible for him to pass unnoticed. Plenty of people recognised him, and some asked for a photograph with the famous polo star. Not once did he swerve their attention or pretend not to see his fans. Dante behaved at all times with unfailing courtesy, as if he had all the time in the world to stand and chat. What she’d seen of him so far suggested Dante could be brooding and difficult, but who could blame him when he was reliant on a cane? This was the true side of him, she suspected, and it was a side she longed to see more of.
Caught out, she gasped when he swung around and pointed to her. The man he was talking to joined his hands together and shook them in the air, as if to praise and congratulate Jess. We’re not there yet, she wanted to say. We’re a long way off. But Dante telling people she was helping him gave her a thrill of pleasure that had nothing to do with boosting her CV.
* * *
Dante was back from his appointment before she knew it. She’d been so busy scouring the market stalls for likely gifts and trinkets she’d lost track of time. ‘You haven’t been away long.’
‘Long enough to do what I needed to. That guy in the square,’ he added, neatly side-stepping any potential questions, ‘used to work for me before he retired. He asked how I was getting on, so I told him you’d get me back in the game.’
‘That is my aim.’
‘If I do as you say?’ Dante suggested, dipping his head to direct a stare into her eyes.
‘That will be the day,’ she observed good-humouredly. ‘But you will improve immeasurably. I’ll make sure of it.’
‘For some reason,’ Dante confessed, ‘I believe you.’
Having steered her towards a cobbled passageway leading off the square, Dante ushered her through a stone archway leading into a modest courtyard. Decorated with simple clay pots overflowing with flowers, the quaint wrought iron tables and chairs made eating outside a real treat for Jess at this time of year. But, to her disappointment, the restaurant was full. ‘We can go somewhere else,’ she suggested with a rueful shrug.
Dante’s answer was to put his hand in the small of her back and usher her forward to where a small, capable-looking woman, wearing a mob-cap-style chef’s hat and a crisp white apron, was cooking up a storm on an outside grill.
Catching sight of them, she passed her dishes over to an assistant and bustled forward to greet them. ‘Dante, mi amor! Cómo estás?’
Jess knew enough Spanish to understand that the chef was asking h
ow Dante was getting on. Concern showed clearly in the woman’s eyes. When she turned to shake hands with Jess, she clasped both of Jess’s hands in hers when Dante explained that it was Jess who was treating his leg. ‘Your poor leg,’ she exclaimed in English for Jess’s benefit. ‘Still no improvement?’
‘Some,’ he said, ‘according to Skylar here.’
‘Skylar?’ she queried, studying Jess. ‘What an interesting name.’
‘Chef Ana,’ Dante explained, introducing them.
‘It’s more of a childhood nickname,’ Jess explained to the cheery-faced older woman, ‘but Señor Acosta likes to use it.’
‘Does he now?’ Chef Ana murmured. Her smile broadened as she glanced between them.