‘Who knows what makes the man tick?’ Amy said irritably, looking at her watch. ‘Who cares?’ She wanted to clear off before James came down for breakfast. She didn’t want to be answering a series of questions from him about where she was going and with whom, not that he would probably even notice her sitting in front of her plate of half-eaten croissant and streaky bacon. She thought about that and, ‘hrrmphed,’ in irritation at how pathetic she had been, never mind that she had been recovering from Freddie, who hadn’t actually been worth recovering from anyway! And she didn’t want to hang around answering Claire’s questions. Normally, she would have been the first to have a laugh at her unexpected date, but not, for some reason, this time.#p#分页标题#e#
She excused herself, returned to her room and didn’t emerge for another half an hour, at which time she sneaked out of the house and found herself running down to the gates at the bottom of the ridiculously long and winding drive.
Which was why, when she saw the sports car waiting for her, her heart was racing. It was just the exertion of the run.
CHAPTER FIVE
RAFAEL was not in the best of moods. Having had a telephone conversation with his brother the night before regarding a hiccup with one of their prospective deals, he had somehow ended up admitting to James that he would be taking Amy out for the day and, because he could not reveal the reason why, had had to endure an inordinate amount of laughter and a lengthy and unedifying lecture on the wisdom of taking a break from the boring power-suited women he usually dated.
As if that hadn’t been bad enough, news of his departure from the norm had spread with the speed of light, and at a stupidly early hour this morning he had received an unexpected telephone call from his mother. He had seen through her initial pleasantries in roughly two seconds and then had stuck the phone on loudspeaker and for the duration of the call had actually had time to cook himself some breakfast, download a couple of e-mails and change.
Anyone would think, Rafael thought ill humouredly, that he had decided to book a flight to the moon. When he had casually mentioned that there must be very little of interest happening in his mother’s life if she could get excited over something as small as him taking a woman out for the day, he had had to suffer through an amused, pithy speech on how much good it would do him to do something unexpected for once.
‘When was the last time you actually took time off work on the spur of the moment?’ she demanded.
Rafael diplomatically refrained from telling her that spontaneous breaks from work just whenever the mood grabbed him wouldn’t exactly be in the best interests of the company that he ran with such stunning success. Instead, he said, ‘About a week ago when I found myself caretaking James…’
‘Oh, but that was on the spur of my moment,’ his mother was quick to point out. He couldn’t win.
‘What on earth are you wearing?’ he asked, as soon as Amy was in the car.
‘Jeans,’ Amy told him. ‘And good morning to you too.’
Rafael looked at the strip of bare midriff on display and grunted. ‘They’re very low.’
‘And you sound like someone’s father when you say stuff like that. This is the style.’
‘Really. And that would be according to…?’
‘According to anyone under the age of thirty…which I guess rules you out…’
And so here we go again, Amy thought, like two combatants circling each other, taking quick punches whenever the opportunity arise. She closed her eyes and let the breeze whip through her hair. Curiously, she felt excited and happy, even though sniping really wasn’t her style. She half opened her eyes and peeked at him. The dark sunglasses were in place again and he was driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lightly on the gearbox. She would never have thought that a gardener would suit a low-slung, convertible sports car, but he did. The latent power of the car fitted him somehow.
‘I haven’t even seen you in a pair of jeans!’ she said, pulling herself together.
‘Because I don’t own a pair.’
‘Everyone owns a pair of jeans!’
Rafael shrugged. That was a fair enough assertion. He wondered how she would react if he told her that he had accounts at New York’s most exclusive stores and a personal shopper who kitted him out in whatever he needed. He had neither the time nor the inclination to drift from store to store in search of trendy clothing. He did not possess any jeans because he had never expressed any particular desire to own a pair. Consequently, his casual trousers were hand-tailored but just in less formal and more wearable fabric than his suits. He didn’t have to look at her face to know that her expression would be one of horrified fascination at someone whose fashion style resided somewhere in the dinosaur era.#p#分页标题#e#