One Summer At The Lake: Maid for Montero / Still the One / Hot-Shot Doc Comes to Town. Susan Carlisle
He remembered.
‘I saw—’
‘You saw nothing, because there was nothing to see.’
His mind replayed the image that had caused him to jump to conclusions and he realised he had not seen anything beyond two people close. His expression froze, his discomfiture revealing itself in the faintest deepening of colour along the slashing angles of his sybaritic cheekbones. Isandro cleared his throat. Embarrassment was a foreign sensation and one he did not enjoy.
He stopped his jaw tightening. ‘I apologise. I made a mistake.’
Zoe fought a smile. Clearly every syllable of his apology had hurt. ‘Apology accepted. I left your mail on your desk. I wasn’t sure if you wanted it forwarded. If you let me know what time is convenient I’ll let the maid know when she can clean your study. Oh, and shall I let your chef know what time you’ll want dinner, sir?’ She took a breath and thought, Wow, I’m good.
His brows lifted. ‘I assumed that we would be dining out.’
Zoe shook her head, losing control of her ‘perfect housekeeper’ smile. ‘Dining?’
‘What time did your friend say—seven?’
She gave a little laugh, her face clearing. ‘The party! Oh, goodness, you don’t have to come.’
‘Then the invitation is not genuine?’
‘Yes, it’s genuine—Chloe and John are very genuine people. I just thought that under the circumstances…’
He arched a questioning brow. ‘Circumstances?’
This deliberate display of obtuseness brought her full lips together in a pursing line of annoyance. ‘They are going to want to thank you, and I’d assumed that you’d find that embarrassing.’
Of course her analysis was dead on, but it turned out his reluctance to attend this party was not as strong as his enthusiasm to not follow the script she clearly wanted him to.
Where women were concerned Isandro did not consider himself complacent, but neither did he anticipate rejection. It was his male pride responding, rather than common sense, as he bared his white teeth in a smile that did not reach his dark eyes and framed his silky response.
‘It is always pleasant when people are grateful.’ Some women would be grateful to be offered the chance of sharing an evening with him. ‘You will find I’m not easily embarrassed.’
Zoe struggled to hide her dismay. ‘Does that mean you want to come?’
While he knew it was illogical to put himself through what would be an uncomfortable and almost certainly boring evening, the dismay in her voice that she didn’t have either the skill or the good manners to disguise hardened his stubborn resolve to attend the damned party with her at his side—and she’d damned well enjoy it! he thought.
‘It’s not a matter of want. I gave my word.’
She struggled to read the expression on his lean sardonic face and faltered. ‘They’d understand if you…’
‘What time will you pick me up?’
Zoe’s heart sank to her boots and she shook her head, feigning incomprehension.
Isandro smiled. She was a very bad actress—an actress with the most incredible mouth he had ever seen.
‘Was that not the arrangement—you take me…?’ he asked, utilising his much more polished acting skills. ‘Of course, I can arrange a driver if you have other plans.’
Her only plan at that moment was to retreat to her little flat and bang her head on a brick wall! Inevitably he would be a back-seat driver. The sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she thought of being forced to share such a small space with him raised goosebumps over her body, but she cheered herself with the mental image of his elegant length folded into the not at all elegant confines of her Beetle that had seen better days. She squared her slender shoulders and ran her tongue across the surface of her dry lips.
Time to accept the inevitable and make the best of the situation. She was still mystified why he would want to come. Perhaps he just enjoyed having people tell him what a great guy he was, she thought scornfully, but the reality was it was going to happen so she’d better stop fighting it and make the best of the situation. It was one evening of her life, and she was probably worrying unnecessarily—his social skills were probably not nearly as bad as she feared.
‘No, that’s fine. I thought I’d leave around seven, if that suits you?’
He lifted his shoulders in a fluid shrug. ‘I will be waiting.’
Her brave smile tipped his emotions over into amusement tinged with determination. He had always found it hard to resist a challenge. By the time this evening was over he would have Miss Zoe Grace eating out of his hand.
GIVEN THE LIMITED storage space in the flat it was lucky Zoe didn’t have a lot of clothes. Those that didn’t fit into the cupboard in the hallway she kept in a case under the twins’ bed.
On her knees she dragged it into the middle of the room, then sat back on her heels and went through the contents. The choice did not take long as she only possessed two half-decent summer dresses. After a few moments of narrow-eyed contemplation, she chose the maxi, mainly because it had fewer creases. Putting it on a hanger she hung it over the bathroom door and turned on the shower, hoping the steam from it would smooth out the few there were in the light chiffon fabric that she was a bit nervous about pressing because she still hadn’t got around to replacing her iron with its dodgy thermostat.
Fifteen minutes later, some light make-up applied, her hair loosened from the plait and brushed into silky submission in waves that almost reached her waist, she switched off the water in the bathroom and was pleased to see that it had worked—the creases had virtually all fallen out of the misty blue fabric.
Slipping it over her head, she adjusted the shoe spaghetti straps and stooped down to get a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She hardly recognised the grave young woman who looked back at her, and allowed herself a complacent smile. When was the last time she’d dressed up? So long ago she couldn’t remember. It was a shame that on this occasion she had that terrible man along for the ride.
With any luck he would get bored and leave early.
Hugging this comforting thought to herself, she walked across the courtyard back to the big house and found him waiting outside the porticoed entrance.
The sound of the fountain drowned out the noise her heels made on the cobbles, so she was able to study him unobserved for a few moments. He was wearing an open-necked shirt and dark tailored trousers. She was admiring the way he looked, hard not to, and reflecting that it was a shame that someone who had everything physically should be so lacking in the personality department when he turned suddenly, startling her enough to make her fall off the strappy wedge she was wearing.
He was at her side supplying a steadying hand to her elbow with startling speed. Flustered, she lifted her face to his, the pupils of her dramatic cornflower-blue eyes dilating as they connected with his dark ebony burnished stare.
She caught her breath sharply as a shimmy of sensation that slid down her spine made her shiver. The man had a sexual charisma that really was off the scale!
‘I’m not used to the heels.’ She pulled and his hand fell away from her elbow. ‘I’m afraid my car’s not very…’ Her voice faded as she picked her way with more care now across the cobbles.
Isandro had been pierced by an arrow of sheer lust the moment he had seen her walking towards him. Walking behind her gave him the opportunity to admire her delicious bottom and the long elegant line of her seemingly