do you think of him?"
Miguel leaned close to take her hand. "He's a promising talent but doesn't take criticism well. He could be among the greatest or never move past the remarkably good. He has the ambition, and it's a shame he didn't work with me when he was younger. Now, what do you think of him?"
She squeezed his hand. "I haven't decided yet."
His smile turned sly. "You must feel something or you wouldn't have asked about him."
The ocean's rumbling melody in the distance made the conversation no easier. "He's unlike anyone I've ever met, but I should probably avoid him."
He laughed. "I've avoided few tempting women, so you don't take after me. Antonio should be here soon. Why don't you find Cirilda and ask for the photos you'd like to see?"
She kissed his cheek, noted his marvelous scent and feared Rafael Mondragon would be very difficult to avoid. She'd left her bed a pile of twisted sheets as ordered, but when she stopped by her room, the maid had already been there, and the bed was neatly made. She was used to a busy schedule with teaching. Having no plan for the day left her at loose ends. There were the photos or dance lessons for the twins; she could walk on the beach, read the books she'd brought along, but nothing struck her as urgent.
After last night's brief exchange, she'd prefer to wait and speak to Cirilda at mealtimes rather than seek her out. She was too restless to remain indoors, and a different nurse than the one she'd seen on Saturday passed by her as she left her room. Perhaps they rotated often. Maggie wondered if they were really needed. They would be ready to serve in a medical emergency, but she dreaded one happening while she was there. She'd arrived thinking poorly of her father, but the real man was far more appealing than the one she'd created in her mind. He seemed resigned to his illness. If only he'd fight for his life rather than let it gradually slip away.
As she left the house, Rafael stood where he'd waited for her the previous day. His T-shirt and jeans showed off his trim build better than the looser dress clothes he'd worn last night for dancing, and she could have stood there and looked at him all day and not grown bored. His slow smile brought a warmth that swept from her toes and ended as a bright blush. Embarrassed by how strongly she reacted to him, she pretended only a mild surprise. "Are you here every morning?"
He shook his head, took her hand and led her toward the water. "I wanted to apologize. I didn't expect you to defend me. No one ever has. I should have thanked you, even if your help wasn't needed."
"Maybe I meant to protect Santos."
"Then I misunderstood."
"No, but I'd have blamed myself if you'd been hurt."
"Santos doesn't like me," he countered. "I'm used to it, and he couldn't hurt me with a half-dozen friends at his side."
She should have known he had too high an opinion of himself to be worried. "You provoke each other, but enough of Santos. What do you know about my grandfather? Was he as famous a matador as his son?"
"Yes. Augustin Aragon was among the greats. He was reclusive; is that the word? He'd appear for a fight, then return to his ranch and remain there until the next time he entered a bullring. People were curious about him, fascinated. I suppose they still are. I've always wanted to see your family's ranch. Take me with you if your father sends you there."
His real interest was all too clear, and her heart fell. "That's unlikely."
"What, that you'd take me?"
"No, that my father would send me there." She pulled her hand free and turned to look up at him. "My father likes you, and that ought to be enough. You can't count on me to do more."
They'd reached the edge of the shore, and he glanced away. "You're the one I want."
His words blew away in the sea breeze, but she'd understood him. When he looked back toward her, she nodded. "Fine, but I'm planning to fly home on Sunday."
"Then I have nearly a week to convince you to stay."
His lazy smile made it plain he thought it an easy matter. The man never lacked for confidence. It made him a superb dancer and undoubtedly served him well in the bullring, but she didn't want to