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It was clear that the tabloid press had landed squarely in the lap of Amy and, sure enough, her mother’s opening words were, ‘Engaged! Iknewit, my darling! What did I say to you, Richard? Didn’t I say? A mother can tell! Oh, Mateo, you darling man! I’ll bet you were horrified that whoever spilled the beans took the wind out of your sails! Were you going to surprise us with an announcement after the wedding was done and dusted?’
‘You dark horse, Maude Thornton! You didn’t breathe awordwhen we were out last night and we wanted to find out all about the dashing chap in your life! Now you’ll have to confess all. Details, please, and spare me nothing!’
‘Sorry, Mateo mate, you’re going to have to get used to my wife-to-be telling it like it is. Congratulations, man!’
Champagne was brought out of the fridge and Maude let herself be swept along on a tide of goodwill and questions, questions, questions. But she could see light at the end of the tunnel and that fortified her. They would disappear on their work trip to Scotland...and everything would be calmer when she returned. So his hand casually draped over her shoulders as she fielded the Spanish Inquisition, not a problem.
And when eventually the questions slowed, she tried not to beam as he said, ruefully, that he wouldn’t be making it to lunch.
He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and Maude already had her response on the tip of her tongue when he continued smoothly, ‘And you may have to release this wonderful woman from her lunchtime duties as well. The next few days might, regrettably, require some Houdini escapology, so we’re going to disappear and miss the fun.
‘By which I mean...’ his audience was hooked ‘...reporters standing outside houses making a nuisance of themselves. The quicker we leave, the better.’
Maude’s ear tickled when he continued, his dark, velvety voice as disconcerting as a physical caress, ‘I hope your passport’s in order?’
‘Huh?’
Maude whipped round to gaze at him with genuine surprise.
‘Your passport.’ Mateo smiled and touched her nose with the tip of his finger in a gesture which she knew was designed to show just the right level of loving affection. The guy could have won an Oscar. ‘We’re heading to my place in Italy!’ He raised his flute in a toast and everyone else followed suit.
‘Italy?’ Maude parroted.
‘I think you’ll like it there, my darling. And key priority? Pack swimsuits. I’ll make sure my private jet is ready and waiting for us by nine in the morning!’
CHAPTER FOUR
MAUDEDISCOVEREDWHATit would feel like to be swept along on a rip tide.
One minute, she’d been bobbing along as comfortably as she could, given the circumstances, and the next minute...? Life was moving at warp speed and she was playing catch-up.
They had remained in the kitchen for another hour before everyone had started drifting off to get ready for the fancy lunch, which she would now not be attending. As soon as the last person had vacated the kitchen, she’d shut the door and spun round to face Mateo, hands on her hips,
‘Passport? Swimsuits? Private jet?’She’d seethed as he’d calmly strolled to the fridge to help himself to some orange juice. ‘Youtoldme that we were going toScotland!’
‘Did I?’
‘Don’t youdarelook at me as though I’ve suddenly taken leave of my senses!’
‘If you recall, I didn’t say a word about Scotland. I admit, it would certainly fill the necessary criteria about being out of the way, but that office is far from finished and the development is still in the embryo stages. I think the locals might be a little alarmed if we were to show up with mock-ups of what their new housing might look like.’
‘Very funny.’
She’d frowned and had had to concede that he hadn’t confirmed where they would be going for their brief disappearing act. She had jumped to conclusions and he had cheerfully allowed her to.
With a thousand other questions to ask, Maude had found herself shuffled out of the kitchen without pinning him down on anything at all because, he’d pointed out, he would have to return to London to get various things sorted before they left.
‘Time,’ he’d said, ‘is of the essence.’ This, as he’d been scribbling something on one of the paper napkins—the name of the airfield where she was to meet him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he’d then reassured her. ‘Wewillbe working, and where we’re going will be one-hundred-percent journalist-proof. There will be other people around, so don’t be alarmed at the prospect of being secluded anywhere with me.’
‘You still haven’t told me where exactly we’ll be going...’ His words had gone some way to banking down her flights of fancy.
The truth was, shehadcatapulted herself into a state of panic at the thought of leaving the country with Mateo. Swimsuits, private jets and passports...they’d formed a picture of a holiday abroad and she had reacted with instinctive horror.
Why?
Because he got to her in ways that sent alarm bells ringing. Whatever simmering attraction that had been there all along...whatever inappropriateawarenessof his sinfully potent good looks...had been manageable in the contained environment of an office, with the bustle of other people around, the hum of computers and the buzz of phones. But take that safety net away...
