Amy stood up smartly. Expensive people, she had found, had very short temper spans. They paid their money and expected their exquisite food to magically appear on their table. Witnessing any of the less than magical clutter that went into the preparation of the exquisite food was not something they enjoyed. Nor did they like too much involvement with the people stirring the pots behind the scenes.
The apology was already on her lips. In fact, her hand was reaching out in introduction when recognition slammed into shock and she felt herself stagger backwards. She had to blink because she was so sure that her mind was playing tricks on her.
He couldn’t be there! Standing in front of her! Standing on the steps of a house that would have cost millions!
‘Hi, Amy. Guess you thought we were never going to meet again?’
‘Rafael?’
‘Come on in. You look as though you’re about to faint on the pavement.’
She was dimly aware of him bringing in everything she had been carrying with her, leading her through a magnificent entrance hallway with shining black and white flagstones, through to the kitchen, which was sumptuous, a miracle of high-tech equipment. The sort of kitchen most caterers dreamed of one day owning.
She felt as though her head had suddenly been stuffed with cotton wool.
‘You probably want to know what the hell is going on…’ Rafael deposited her into one of the chairs by the kitchen table. It was leather. Black leather to match the granite work surfaces and the gleaming, matching table top. Everything gleamed through lack of use.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Amy obliged.
‘Do you want something to drink?’
‘No! I want to know what’s going on!’ She couldn’t help it. Her heart was beginning to pound. She had remembered every inch of him, but she had somehow forgotten his impact. ‘I was told…the woman said…you were a Mr Lee…I thought…’
‘James is my brother. I used his surname so you wouldn’t know you were cooking for me.’
‘What?’ Amy’s head shot up and she looked at Rafael in stunned bewilderment. ‘What are you talking about?’
The past two months had not been good for Rafael. He had dismissed his liaison with her as a pleasant but passing interlude, something that had sprung up on the back of his breakup from Elizabeth. But the memory of her had lingered in his head like a burr until every area of his life had been subtly but glaringly compromised. He had found himself staring through windows when he should have been staring at his computer, thinking of her when his head should have been full of reports and deal-making. He had had to stifle the urge to phone his brother and ask what she was doing until he hadn’t been able to stop himself any longer. At which point he had learnt that she had left the company and in those few split seconds when he had realised that he might not see her again Rafael had made his mind up.
There had been nothing stopping him from coming to England. He had a house there and he ran the company, for God’s sake, even if he had decided a long time ago to focus his energies in New York.
He hadn’t had to give reasons to anyone. He had known, without a shadow of smugness, that he was the head guy and everyone else would make way for him, as they had.
And he hadn’t questioned his compelling motives for seeking her out. In his head, the reason was simple. The relationship, fling, affair, call it what you will, had not yet run its course and there was nothing more inconvenient than unfinished business.#p#分页标题#e#
He had begun something that needed to be closed and he was pretty sure that she would feel the same way as he did.
However, he had not fully envisaged the reaction he would get from her, but it was dawning on him that joy and elation weren’t heavily featured.
‘My half- brother, I should say.’
‘But you’re his gardener…’ Amy spluttered, bewildered.
‘What I know about gardens would fit on the back of a postage stamp,’ Rafael admitted.
‘You mean you lied to me?’
Rafael flushed.
‘Why? Why? Why would you do that?’
‘If you calm down and let me get a word in edgewise, then I might be able to explain.’
‘You want me to calm down? I don’t feel calm! You lied to me and now here you are…for what?’
Rafael pushed himself away from the counter and reached inside one of the cupboards for a couple of glasses, into which he poured them both a measure of brandy. ‘Drink.’
‘I don’t want a drink! I want to know what you’re doing here! And why you lied to me! And please don’t give me any speeches about hating hysterical women. I feel hysterical!’