Page 34 of Meet Me at Sunset

Paulo opened his wallet and threw a pile of notes down ostentatiously on the table, before grabbing Isobel by the hand. She allowed his fingers to close possessively around hers, noticing the way he moved with absolute confidence, his broad shoulders carving a path through the crowd. She didn’t know a soul here; no one knew she was with Paulo, and the situation held a frisson of danger.

He turned and winked at her, leading her away from the crowds and towards the darkness. Without giving herself time to think, Isobel followed him. She was intrigued by what Paulo knew about Camille. She didn’t want to be alone right now, didn’t want the night to end. And she wanted Paulo to tell her his secret, and she would do whatever it took to find out.

Chapter 14

‘Lucas,’ Catherine Zeta-Jones purred. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.’

‘And I wasn’t expecting you to answer the door,’ he chuckled, feeling like a schoolboy as he asked, ‘Is Stephanie in?’

‘Sure, she’s out by the pool. I’ll go and get her. By the way, Michael and I are going out for a round of golf shortly, so you’ll have the place to yourselves.’ She winked as she sashayed off, leaving Lucas blushing.

A few moments later, Stephanie emerged and Lucas’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. She was wearing a strapless bikini in a shimmering gold fabric, and her body was incredible. She had a slender, hour-glass figure, with a handspan waist and curvy hips. Her flawless skin was slick with oil, and her long hair was pulled back in a plait that fell all the way down her back.

‘Lucas,’ she smiled, and her blue eyes sparkled. ‘What a nice surprise.’

He held out the bag he was carrying, though now he felt faintly ridiculous. ‘I thought you might like that cooking lesson – if you’re not too busy,’ he added, his eyes skating over her bikini.

Stephanie grinned. ‘No, I wasn’t doing anything important. That sounds perfect. Meet you in the kitchen? It’s just down the hallway. Maria, the housekeeper, is out running errands so you can make yourself at home. I’ll go throw some clothes on.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Lucas replied, before he could stop himself.

Stephanie laughed, turning back to look at him over one shoulder as she walked away, and Lucas felt a wave of longing crash through his body. He’d been worried about making an idiot of himself, driving up to the S’Estaca estate with a bag full of ingredients on the passenger seat beside him. Stephanie might not have been there, or she might have been busy, or – the most galling of all – simply not interested in him. But Lucas could tell from the way that Stephanie looked at him that everything was going to be all right.

Up in her room, Stephanie was giddy with excitement. She was staying in a beautiful guest bedroom, with views out over the garden and the sea beyond, but right now she didn’t see any of that as she pulled a stripy sundress from the antique wooden wardrobe and threw it over her bikini. She sat down at the old-fashioned dressing table with its trio of oval mirrors, and added a slick of lip gloss, quickly checking her appearance before heading downstairs again, her heart thumping.

She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen; her feet were bare, and Lucas hadn’t heard her approach. She watched as he emptied the contents of the bag into the fridge, pulling out plates and dishes from the cupboards as he familiarized himself with Catherine’s large, stylish kitchen.

He looked handsome as hell, and Stephanie’s stomach gave a little flip as he reached up to a high shelf and his T-shirt rode up, giving her a glimpse of flat, toned stomach, with rippling muscles and a tantalizing line of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts …

‘So, what are we making?’ she asked, as she stepped into the kitchen, not wanting him to catch her staring at him.

Lucas turned round, grinning as he saw her. ‘Bacalao – salted cod with vegetables in a traditional sauce. A regional speciality. You like fish, yes?’

‘I love it. It sounds delicious.’ She took a step closer, standing beside him. He felt so big next to her, tall and strong and capable. She loved the way he moved with confidence; the kitchen was completely his domain.

‘Well, the first ingredient,’ he began, opening a glass-fronted cabinet and taking out two crystal glasses. ‘Is wine.’ He effortlessly pulled out the cork from a bottle of white, and poured a glass for Stephanie. ‘This is a Sauvignon Blanc that’s grown and produced locally, in the foothills of the Tramuntana mountains. I always say that a glass of wine is essential when you’re cooking.’

‘So are you drinking every night in the restaurant?’ she teased.

‘Unfortunately not. But when you’re cooking at home, for pleasure, it’s a necessity.’

‘I’ll remember that. Cheers.’

‘Santé,’ Lucas replied, as they clinked glasses, not breaking eye contact. ‘Or perhaps we should say salud, as we’re in Spain.’

‘How many languages do you speak?’ Stephanie wondered, marvelling at how intelligent he was.

‘French and Spanish, obviously. A little Italian and German. And English – very badly.’

‘Your English is incredible – much better than my Spanish. Or my French, and I studied that in school.’

‘Well, perhaps we can teach one another,’ Lucas said easily.

‘I’d like that. So that’s cooking, languages … What else can you teach me?’ Stephanie said flirtatiously. She was having fun, and the wine was certainly helping her to relax.

‘Let’s start with cooking and see where it goes,’ Lucas replied, raising his eyebrows. ‘We need to start by dicing these,’ he explained, pulling a pile of tomatoes, onions and garlic across the counter towards them. ‘For the sauce.’

Stephanie frowned as he passed her a knife and a chopping board. ‘Do you think I’m going to be your sous-chef?’ she protested, shaking her head in mock horror. ‘You don’t get to boss me around.’