“He’s gone home. He needs to concentrate on being ready for Sunday, without my being a distraction.”
Santos took her bag and carried it to her room. “He must have left at a run. Now you can see I was right, can’t you? All he wanted was to schedule his Alternativa. I’ll bet you won’t see him again.”
Rafael had been so excited by her father’s endorsement she hadn’t questioned his haste to leave. “He’ll come by in the morning, and I’ll see him then.”
“He’ll run out of here again. Don’t blink.”
“How are things going for you and Ana?” she countered.
“I really don’t care.” He pulled her door closed on his way out.
She’d known what Santos thought of Rafael from the beginning, but his continued sarcastic dismissal of him hurt. Rafael had always seemed sincere to her, and if he hadn’t been, then he truly was as polished an actor as Javier Bardem. When she hated to consider her own motives, she refused to analyze Rafael’s. Santos could think whatever he chose to; it wouldn’t change how she felt about Rafael.
She unpacked her bag and found her white lace bra, but the matching panties were missing. She was sure she’d packed them together. She searched through the whole bag, but the panties were gone. She wondered if Rafael had kept them for a souvenir. The thought made her laugh. Knights used to keep scarves from their ladies. Maybe matadors kept their girlfriend’s panties in a pocket. If a suit of lights had a pocket.
Her purse muffled the sound of her cell phone, and she could have pretended not to hear it, but if it was Craig, and she was fairly certain it was, he’d just keep calling.
“Hello.”
“What’s you flight number? I want to meet your plane on Sunday.”
“Thank you, but I’m staying a few extra days.”
“That’s not good news. There isn’t really a bullfighter, is there?”
She walked out on her balcony. She wouldn’t even attempt to describe Rafael, but she smiled as she thought of him. “Yes, my father’s protégé.”
“Young women who’ve grown up with an absent father often pursue unavailable men. You know the pattern. I hope you haven’t fallen for a man who’s exactly like your father.”
He was an expert on relationships, but she was tired of his self-serving advice. “Do you mean an egotistical bastard who can’t keep track of his children?”
“That’s rather harsh. Just be careful, Maggie.”
It was a glorious afternoon, and she was anxious to go down to the beach. “Make up your mind, Craig. You advised me to become more open to love.”
“Well, yes, but not with a matador, or a rock musician, or a movie star!”
She had to laugh. “Perhaps a dentist? I’ll send you a postcard.”
She ended the call and hoped it would be the last time she heard from Craig. He was a nice guy, the responsible sort mothers always wanted their daughters to marry, but he was wrong man for her. Her fierce attraction to Rafael proved it.
She picked up the book she’d read on the plane and went out to the beach through the door behind the main staircase. It opened smoothly now. She moved one of the patio chairs out onto a shady patch of sand and skimmed through the last fourth of her book. It was an entertaining urban fantasy, a light-hearted story and perfect vacation reading. It was precisely what she needed to keep from thinking past the next fifteen minutes.
Thursday morning, she woke up early, took her time getting dressed and truly expected to find Rafael waiting for her on the patio, but he wasn’t there. Confident he would soon arrive, she went upstairs to eat breakfast with her father. He welcomed her and picked at a muffin while she ate fruit.
“What did you think of the ranch?” he asked.
“It’s the first time I’ve visited one. It’s a beautiful house, and—”
Her grandmother knocked as she entered the room without waiting for an invitation. She waved a tabloid and threw it down on the table. “Tomas just showed me this. Your daughter is consorting with Gypsies, and I refuse to have our family suffer this tawdry disgrace!”
The paper lay open to reveal a large photograph of Maggie and Rafael dancing at the ranch. It was one of Ana’s best shots. Santos could be seen scowling in the background.
Her father picked it up and provided a softened translation of the headline. “The reporter is convinced Rafael and Santos
will take their fight over you into the bullring.”
“That’s absurd. He’s my brother,” Maggie exclaimed.