“No, the Aragons are it.”
She assumed her father had provided for Fox in his will, or he might have a trust from his mother’s estate, but he was much too young to be on his own. “I’ve changed my mind. Will you bring me some of the sorbet?”
“Sure I will.”
Once he was gone, she realized how little she’d considered the sad situation the rest of her father’s family faced. This was probably her only stay in their world, and she could imagine what it would be like without Miguel to hold it together. Vida Ramos’s two children could depend on her. The twins had their mother. She and Santos were grown, but Fox had the barest tie to the Aragon family, and Carmen and Cirilda were unlikely to do more than buy him an airline ticket back to school.
He had warmed to her, though, and she wouldn’t abandon him to a sterile boarding school. An English boy would be popular at Catalina Foothills, but he would be a most unusual souvenir from her summer vacation. So would a dashing matador, and she could envision Craig’s baffled disapproval. Thinking of him, she had a ready smile when Fox returned with the best sorbet she’d ever eaten.
“This is tart without being too sharp,” he mused as a food critic would. “I like the sprig of peppermint too. Presentation is everything in a dessert, don’t you agree?”
“I do, although a piece of chocolate cake on a paper plate has enormous appeal.”
He nodded and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What do you suppose will be in Augustín’s missing memoir?”
She answered just as quietly. “It’s no longer missing, but I’m hoping for some honest comments about his home and family.”
“I can’t imagine Carmen ever being young and pretty.”
“I’m just as sure she was, whether or not you can visualize it.”
“Are you keeping a journal?” he asked.
She waited for a spoonful of sorbet to melt in her mouth. “I was, but somehow life has gotten ahead of me. What about you?”
“I started one once, even made up a code so my schoolmates couldn’t snatch it away from me and read it aloud. I lost interest after a while. You feel well enough now to go downstairs and watch a movie?”
He was looking down at his empty bowl as though her answer didn’t matter that much to him, but his shy glance proved otherwise. “Yes, let’s do that.”
He went downstairs to make certain Carmen and Cirilda had left the dining room and gone to their rooms before she joined him in the den. The sofa was cloud-soft, and she sank into her seat and pretended to watch a film she could not have described later as being a crime thriller or a space adventure. It passed two hours of time, however, and she was grateful for a mindless reprieve.
Sunday morning, Maggie woke up early, put on her bikini and went down to the beach to swim. The days were gathering heat building toward their summer highs, but the water was still cool. She swam out and then horizontal to the coast. The Costa Daurada was such a beautiful sparkling place, but all she wanted to do was swim past her fears.
When she grew tired long before that happened, she swam to the shore to find Fox and Rafael waiting for her.
Rafael handed her a towel. “You shouldn’t swim alone.”
“There are lots of people in the water.” She flipped her hair out of her eyes and wrapped herself in the towel.
His frown didn’t lift. “True, but they’re not looking out for you.”
“I’m out now,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
Fox backed away. “I know where this is leading. I’ll see you later.”
She turned toward the sea, and Rafael moved close and draped his arm around her shoulders. “I want you to come to the corrida.”
His closeness felt so good, but his request made her heart fall with a silent splat. If they never had to get out of bed, they’d do fine, but reality yanked the covers right off them. “Young men recognize you here on the beach. There will be plenty of people there to see you.”
His voice dropped to a seductive hush. “You’re the one I want.”
Savoring his words, she leaned against him. He behaved as though desire was all that mattered. She nearly suffocated on desire when he was near, but what he wanted and what she needed were too entirely different things. “It isn’t that I don’t care, I do. I hope you won’t think it’s disloyal of me not to go, but please, I couldn’t bear to watch. I know you’ll dazzle everyone there.”
“Thank you, but I still want you to come.”
She slid her arm around his waist and unable to describe how frightened she was for him, she couldn’t put that level of terror into words. “I won’t ask you to stop, so please don’t ask me to go.”
She held her breath, praying he’d understand, but when he gave her a last hug and walked away, it was clear he didn’t. She wanted to call him back, but she couldn’t promise the only thing he’d ever asked of her. He wanted to show off for her. She understood his pride, but she couldn’t bear to watch him risk his life as afternoon entertainment for a bloodthirsty crowd. Tears rolled down her cheeks. If she lost him that afternoon, she’d never stop crying.