rested his fists on his hips. "I can't believe you'd allow Mondragon to fight on Sunday."
Miguel yawned. "It was arranged before you left for the ranch."
"What? Then why did you send us there?"
"I wanted Magdalena to see it. It's also wonderfully peaceful here when you're all away. Forget about Mondragon and concentrate on yourself. You need to train. The best are always fully prepared, and you rightfully belong among them."
"But Mondragon doesn't. What are you trying to do, get him killed?"
"Would that be any great loss to the world?"
Shaken by that heartless response, Santos waited for his father to take it back, but Miguel closed his eyes to dismiss them. Santos hurried Fox out of the room.
"That was cold," Fox observed.
"Maybe he's just tired of hearing me complain about Mondragon. I'm going to the gym. Do you want to come along?"
"And get all sweaty lifting weights? No thanks."
"It's the best place to meet girls."
Fox shrugged. "In that case, I'll make the sacrifice."
They met Maggie coming up the stairs with her bag. Her new red dress was slung over her arm. "Where's Mondragon?" Santos asked.
"He's gone home. He needs to concentrate on being ready for Sunday, without my being a distraction."
Santos took her bag and carried it to her room. "He must have left at a run. Now you can see I was right, can't you? All he wanted was to schedule his Alternativa. I'll bet you won't see him again."
Rafael had been so excited by her father's endorsement she hadn't questioned his haste to leave. "He'll come by in the morning, and I'll see him then."
"He'll run out of here again. Don't blink."
"How are things going for you and Ana?" she countered.
"I really don't care." He pulled her door closed on his way out.
She'd known what Santos thought of Rafael from the beginning, but his continued sarcastic dismissal of him hurt. Rafael had always seemed sincere to her, and if he hadn't been, then he truly was as polished an actor as Javier Bardem. When she hated to consider her own motives, she refused to analyze Rafael's. Santos could think whatever he chose to; it wouldn't change how she felt about Rafael.
She unpacked her bag and found her white lace bra, but the matching panties were missing. She was sure she'd packed them together. She searched through the whole bag, but the panties were gone. She wondered if Rafael had kept them for a souvenir. The thought made her laugh. Knights used to keep scarves from their ladies. Maybe matadors kept their girlfriend's panties in a pocket. If a suit of lights had a pocket.
Her purse muffled the sound of her cell phone, and she could have pretended not to hear it, but if it was Craig, and she was fairly certain it was, he'd just keep calling.
"Hello."
"What's you flight number? I want to meet your plane on Sunday."
"Thank you, but I'm staying a few extra days."
"That's not good news. There isn't really a bullfighter, is there?"
She walked out on her balcony. She wouldn't even attempt to describe Rafael, but she smiled as she thought of him. "Yes, my father's protege."
"Young women who've grown up with an absent father often pursue unavailable men. You know the pattern. I hope you haven't fallen for a man who's exactly like your father."
He was an expert on relationships, but she was tired of his self-serving advice. "Do you mean an egotistical bastard who can't keep track of his children?"
"That's rather harsh. Just be careful, Maggie."
It was a glorious afternoon, and she was anxious to go down to the beach. "Make up your mind, Craig. You advised me to become more open to love."
"Well, yes, but not with a matador, or a rock musician, or a movie star!"
She had to laugh. "Perhaps a dentist? I'll send you a postcard."
She ended the call and hoped it would be the last time she heard from Craig. He was a nice guy, the responsible sort mothers always wanted their daughters to marry, but he was wrong man for her. Her fierce attraction to Rafael proved it.
She picked up the book she'd read on the plane and went out to the beach through the door behind the main staircase. It opened smoothly now. She moved one of the patio chairs out onto a shady patch of sand and skimmed through the last fourth of her book. It was an entertaining urban fantasy, a light-hearted story and perfect vacation reading. It was precisely what she needed to keep from