She took his hand. “I’ll keep you company while you eat.”
He pulled her to a stop. “Ignore Ana. She doesn’t really like me; she wants to make Santos jealous.”
“Don’t underestimate your appeal, Rafael. She might like you quite a bit.”
His brows dipped in a confused line. “Wouldn’t that bother you?”
“We’ve no control over how someone else feels, so there’s no point in being jealous.”
“You don’t think like a woman.”
Clearly he thought himself an expert. “Because I’m rational? I’m not unique.”
“Maybe not, but a Gypsy woman wouldn’t allow another woman to flirt with her man.”
“Are you my man?” The question slipped out before she could catch it.
He pulled her hand to his lips and gave her knuckle a playful bite. “What do you think?”
“I think we’re very late for lunch.” She gave him a forceful tug, and he followed her into the dining room. Ana and Santos were seated side by side and Maggie and Rafael sat down oppo
site them. One of Refugio’s helpers brought Rafael a roast beef sandwich and a beer, but she didn’t ask for anything more.
“Aren’t you going to ask me for an opinion on Rafael?” Santos asked her.
“I thought our father was making the decision.”
“Yes, but I have an opinion too.” He took another bite of his sandwich. The meat was sliced so thin pieces kept sliding out, and he pushed them back between the thick slices of bread. “For today I have one; tomorrow I might have another.”
“Tell me what you think tomorrow, then,” Maggie asked.
“You two really look alike,” Ana mused thoughtfully. “Don’t they, Rafael?”
Rafael set his sandwich on his plate and wiped his mouth on his napkin before replying. “Maggie is much prettier.”
“Yes, she is, but the family resemblance is strong. Anyone could see you’re Miguel’s children. I’d like to photograph you together. I plan to work as a photographer when I retire from modeling and am always looking for an appealing subject. I have to go into Zaragoza this afternoon, so we can do it later. Do you want to come along, Magdalena?”
“Go,” Rafael encouraged. “You need a dress and shoes for flamenco.”
Maggie had pretty dance clothes at home, but it would be nice to have something new she could boast came from Spain. “Do you know a place that sells those?”
Ana had finished her bowl of soup and set the spoon carefully on her plate. “I know where to buy anything even remotely related to fashion.”
Santos leaned close to kiss Ana. “We’re going to look through Augustín’s journals, probably from opposite ends of the house, so shop as long as you like.”
When they were finished eating, Maggie went upstairs to get her purse and joined Ana and the men out front. The model drove a light blue Porsche that looked brand new. “What a beautiful car.”
“Thank you. It was a gift.”
Santos looked up at the cloudless sky, so clearly the expensive sports car wasn’t from him. Maggie wondered if it could have been from their father and if Miguel was equally generous with all his girlfriends. The possibility brought an ache suspiciously close to jealousy, which she’d never admit to Rafael.
Rafael walked her to the passenger side of the car and bent down to whisper, “Do you need money?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
“Never make a woman ask for money,” Santos scolded. “Do it like this.” He pulled a couple of large bills from a money clip and slipped them into Ana’s hand as he kissed her.
“I thought you just left money on the dresser,” Rafael shot back at him.