A Touch of Notoriety - By Carole Mortimer Page 0,14

at the horror she detected in Raphael’s tone; like all big strong men, he probably had no idea how to deal with a woman’s tears. She almost laughed. Except, she really didn’t have anything to laugh about. Cry, yes. Laugh, no. She had believed her situation unbearable while in Argentina, but now they were back in England this nightmare she appeared to be stuck in just kept getting worse.

‘Did you even notice the mess those men are making of my home?’ She gave a pained wince just at the memory of the army of workmen both inside and outside what had once been her family home, but was now being turned into as much of a secure fortress as this manor house set within its equally secure walls and high gates.

Raphael looked regretful. ‘If you had waited a couple of days before going there, as I suggested, it would all have been put back as it was.’

She gave a shake of her head. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’

‘Beth—’

‘Raphael.’ She stared up at him steadily.

His mouth thinned. ‘I promise you, Beth, your home will be just as you left it by the time we return later in the week.’

‘Apart from the fact I can no longer get in my own front door without a security code. Or open the windows without the alarm going off. Or—’

‘You are starting to sound like Grace now!’

‘Possibly because I now feel exactly the same way that Grace does about Cesar’s high level of security!’ She was breathing hard in her agitation. ‘You should be careful, Raphael. If Grace has her way Cesar won’t be using that level of security in future, and then you could be out of a job!’

‘If so I will simply find another.’ He shrugged. ‘And I meant that your home will be just as it was in appearance once the work there has been finished. The men working there are experts at what they do.’

‘I’m sure they are,’ she acknowledged flatly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I really think I need to go upstairs and find the gym—before I decide not to wait and just punch you on the jaw right now for want of a better target!’

He raised dark brows. ‘I thought I was the target?’

She breathed in deeply. ‘No, at the moment that’s Cesar.’ She breathed out just as deeply. ‘And I need to work off some of this excess energy before I really do hit something. Or someone!’ she added grimly.

‘It is almost time for dinner...’

‘So it is.’ She smiled slightly. ‘And it’s just dawned on me that Cesar’s cook is currently in Argentina with him making arrangements for their wedding next month. And if you’re expecting me to cook dinner for you instead then you’re going to be out of luck. Grace is the cook in our family,’ she added with satisfaction as Raphael looked decidedly crestfallen by her announcement.

‘You can’t cook?’

‘Of course I can cook, I just don’t intend to do so,’ Beth corrected, starting to relax and once again enjoy herself. ‘How about you, Raphael? Can you cook?’

‘Steak and baked potato when I have to...’

‘Then this would appear to be one of the occasions when you have to.’ Beth nodded her satisfaction. ‘At least, until Kevin Maddox can organise Grace’s replacement.’ She had yet to meet Cesar’s English PA, but Grace had seemed to like him the previous month when he interviewed her for the job as Cesar’s cook/housekeeper.

‘And you will deign to make the salad?’

Her eyes glowed with humour. ‘Oh, I think I might agree to do that, yes.’

He gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘Then we will make dinner together later.’

Beth wasn’t sure that ‘togetherness’ with this particular man was something she wanted. Or was in the least wise, when she seemed to be becoming more and more physically aware of Raphael the more time they spent together...

She nodded. ‘In the meantime, I’ll go upstairs and choose my own bedroom from the rooms in the east wing, shall I?’ She turned and took the first step up the huge curved staircase before pausing to look back at Raphael over her shoulder. ‘If you would just arrange for my luggage to be delivered up to my room so that I can change before I go in search of the gym...’

Raphael’s jaw looked tense. ‘You were wrong two days ago, Beth.’

She raised her brows. ‘Wrong about what?’

‘You appear to be learning all too quickly how to behave as that “pampered poodle” you spoke of so disparagingly!’