‘I’ve seen your CV, but do feel free.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘It’s not just a matter of processing some information, Mateo. It’s why we don’t know anything about each other. Ten years working together, and you don’t even know...’ she cast about for a salient fact ‘...my middle name.’
‘Anne,’ Mateo answered immediately. And at her blank look, ‘It’s on your CV.’
Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, something else, then. Something that’s not on my CV.’
Mateo cocked his head, his gaze sweeping slowly over her, warming everywhere it touched, as if she were bathed in sunlight. ‘I’m not going to know something you haven’t told me,’ he said after a moment. ‘So it’s pointless to play a guessing game. But I know more about you than perhaps you realise.’
Which was a very uncomfortable thought. Rachel squirmed in her seat at the thought of how much Mateo could divine from having worked so closely with her for ten years. All her quirks, idiosyncrasies, annoyances... She really did not want to have the excoriating experience of having him list everything he’d noticed over the past decade.
He was a scientist, trained in matters of observation. He would have noticed a lot, and she should have noticed the same amount about him, but the trouble was she’d been exerting so much energy trying not to notice him that she wasn’t sure she had.
Which put him at a distinct and disturbing advantage.
‘Look, that isn’t really the point,’ she said quickly. ‘This is not even about you knowing or not knowing me.’
‘Is it not? Then what is it about?’
Rachel stared at him helplessly. She wasn’t going to say it. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself by pointing out the glaringly obvious discrepancies in their stations in life, in their looks. She didn’t want to enumerate in how many ways she was not his equal, how absurd the idea of a marriage between them would seem, because she’d been in this position before and it had been the worst experience of her life.
‘It’s about the fact that I don’t want to marry you,’ she said in as flat and final a tone as she could. ‘And I certainly don’t want to be queen of a country.’
Something flickered across Mateo’s beautiful face and then was gone. His gaze remained steady on hers as he answered. ‘While I will naturally accept your decision if that is truly how you feel, I do not believe you have given it proper consideration.’
‘That’s because it is so outrageous—’
He leaned forward, eyes glinting, mouth curved, everything in him alert and aware and somehow predatory. Rachel tried not to shrink back in her seat. She’d never seen Mateo look so intent.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘it is my turn to give my arguments.’
CHAPTER FIVE
RACHEL’S EYES WIDENED at his pronouncement, lush lashes framing their dark softness in a way that made Mateo want to reach across the table and touch her. Cup her cheek and see if her skin was as soft as it looked. He realised he hadn’t actually touched his former colleague very much over the last ten years. Brushed shoulders, perhaps, but not much more. But that was something to explore later.
Right now she needed convincing, and he was more than ready to begin. He’d patiently listened to her paltry arguments, sensing that she wasn’t saying what she really felt. What she really feared. And he’d get to that in time, but now it was his turn to explain why this was such a very good idea.
Because, after an evening in her presence, Mateo was more convinced than ever that it was. Rachel was smart and focused and, more importantly, he liked her. And best of all, he only liked her. While he sensed a spark of attraction for her that could surely be fanned into an acceptable flame, he knew he didn’t feel anything more than that.
No overwhelming emotion, no flood of longing, desire, or something deeper. And if he didn’t feel that after ten years basically by her side, he would never feel it.
Which was a very good thing.
‘All right,’ Rachel said, her voice wavering slightly although her gaze was sharp and focused, her arms folded. ‘I’m waiting for these brilliant arguments.’
‘I didn’t say they were brilliant,’ Mateo replied with a small smile. ‘But of course they are.’
Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘Of course.’
Mateo paused, enjoying their back and forth as he considered how best to approach the subject. ‘The real question, I suppose,’ he said slowly, ‘is why wouldn’t we get married?’ He let that notion hover in the air between them, before it landed with a thud.
‘Why wouldn’t we?’ Rachel repeated disbelievingly. ‘Please, Mateo. You’re a scientist. Don’t give me an argument from fallacy. Neither of us is married. Therefore we should marry. That is not how it works.’
‘That is not how science works,’ Mateo agreed, hiding his smile at her response. She was so fiery. He’d never enjoyed it quite so much before. ‘But this isn’t science.’
‘Isn’t it?’ she challenged, a gleam in her eye that looked a little too much like vulnerability. ‘Because I’m not sure what else it could be.’
She had him on the back foot, and he didn’t enjoy the sensation. Mateo took a sip of the wine the waiter had brought—a Rioja because he knew Rachel liked fruity reds—to stall for time. ‘Elucidate, please.’