on her, grabbed their luggage from his car's trunk and followed Maggie up the stairs to his apartment. Once inside, he locked the door and leaned back against it. "All these years, I thought one of her men had slit her throat and tossed her body in the sea, and she's been chauffeured around in a limousine. Ortiz is one of Spain's wealthiest men, but clearly he has no taste in women."
Maggie couldn't argue with his observation. She picked up her bag and set it on the sofa but lacked the energy to unpack. "She's younger than I thought she'd be."
"She was only fifteen when I was born. I'd no idea I'd 'disgraced' her."
Maggie sat on the sofa rather than approach him while he was so angry. She didn't blame him when Carlotta had selfishly sacrificed the children who loved her to improve her own lot. She breathed deeply and waited for him to calm down enough to say more.
He lifted the curtain to check the front of the building. "She's gone. Rather than break up the furniture, I'm going out for a walk. I'll be back later and take you dancing."
"We don't need to go out if you'd rather not."
His voice held a convincing depth. "Believe me, I need to dance."
When he left, she called Santos for Dr. Moreno's telephone number and contacted his office to make an appointment. When she gave her name, his receptionist offered her sympathies, and while Dr. Moreno did not usually see patients on Saturday morning, he made an exception for her. Maggie thanked her and hoped her questions wouldn't stun the physician as they had her father.
Unable to sit and worry, she got up to make herself useful and prepare dinner by the time Rafael returned. There wasn't a morsel to cook in the kitchen, but there was a little market on the corner, and after making certain he owned a few pots and pans, she walked there and bought pasta, fresh tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, zucchini and ground beef. She had to make a second trip for a few spices but soon had a thick vegetable sauce simmering and began making meatballs.
She heard Rafael close the door and stepped out of the kitchen. "I hope you like spaghetti."
His mouth nearly fell agape. "I can pay for our dinner. You don't have to cook."
She understood why the ability to pay was so important to him, and wondered if women had ever done anything for him out of bed. "I love to cook, so please do me a favor and pretend to like spaghetti even if you don't."
He came to the kitchen door. "I love spaghetti, but you really don't have to - "
She kissed him, taking care not to touch him with sticky hands. "Can we please let life slow down for an evening?"
"You mean sit here and pretend we're normal people, even if we aren't? I should apologize for that scene with my mother. I didn't introduce you, and she would have been thrilled had she known you were Miguel's daughter."
"No apologies are needed. Frankly, I admired your restraint. She deserved a lot worse."
He laughed and tried to hug her without getting bits of ground beef in his hair. "I have the awful feeling I haven't seen the last of her. My grandmother made excuses for her, blamed her youth every time she stayed out late and left us to fend for ourselves. She's the kind who give Gypsies a bad name."
She finished the last meatball and washed her hands. "Do you suppose Mr. Ortiz knows he married a Gypsy?"
His eyes lit with a dangerous glow. "No, I doubt she admitted it, and I'll bet she lied about her age."
"Then she can't suddenly reveal she's El Gitano's mother, can she?" She leaned against the counter. "If she comes back, you might insist upon meeting her husband rather than your half brothers."
"That's a wicked thought, Magdalena." A wide grin showed he loved it.
He had no idea how wicked her thoughts might be. "Thank you. I called Dr. Moreno's office and made an appointment for tomorrow morning. You're right. I haven't been myself, and it wouldn't hurt to see a doctor."
"I just want you to be happy." He pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tight.
She relaxed against him and closed her eyes. It sounded like such a simple goal, and yet she hadn't been truly happy with her life until she'd danced with him. "Maybe it wasn't meeting you on the stairs,"