Maid for Montero - By Kim Lawrence Page 0,12

even though she was the runt, and everyone wanted her last puppies, though this time we think the father might be…Well, that’s all right, you’ve plenty of room here and you look like a dog person.’

At a loss for once in his life, the dog person swallowed and wondered if the entire community here were off their heads.

Chloe still bubbling, her face alight, stopped her daughter’s chair before it hit the desk. ‘You two made this happen…’ She took Zoe’s hand and then that of the man she considered benefactor and pressed them palm to palm before sealing them between her own.

Standing there with a frozen smile on her face, Zoe had to fight the urge to tear her hand free. The only comfort she found in the situation was that he had to be hating this as much as she was.

‘We made the target, so you won’t have to shave your head!’

Zoe, forgetting for a moment her own situation, smiled happily, without noticing the expression on the tall Spaniard’s face as he watched her light up with pleasure.

‘Oh, Chloe, that’s marvellous! Is there enough for John to come with you?’

‘Not quite,’ the older woman conceded. ‘But he wouldn’t be able to take that much time off work anyway. And we’ll have so much to tell Daddy when we come home, won’t we, Hannah?’ She released the two hands she held and ducked down to her daughter, leaving Zoe standing there with her fingers curled around the long brown fingers of Isandro Montero.

While Chloe was kissing her daughter, and the vicar was taking off his glasses to study one of the paintings on the wall, Zoe took the opportunity to wrench her hand free and sling a poisonous look up at his face.

‘Oh, Zoe, you’ve worked so hard. How will we ever be able to thank you? And don’t you worry—we’ll be here bright and early to clear away.’ She stretched up to kiss Zoe’s cheek. ‘I wanted you to know first. Now I think we should go and tell everyone else…Vicar?’

‘Yes, indeed. Mr Montero, you have a very impressive art collection here…amazing…’ He wrung the younger man’s hand with enthusiasm before following Chloe from the room. Zoe, who had tacked on behind them, was stopped by the sound of her name.

‘Miss Grace, if I could have a moment…?’

Half inclined to carry on walking but knowing if she did the likelihood would be that the story would come out, Zoe paused and turned back, promising Chloe she would catch up. She knew it was inevitable that her friend would feel in part responsible for her sacking, but she saw no need to cast a cloud over this happy moment for the family who had not had a lot to be happy about recently.

She held herself rigid as he walked past her and closed the door.

‘So?’

She shrugged and matched his tone. ‘What?’

‘Would you like to tell me what that was all about?’

Now he wants to know. ‘I was trying to explain.’

Isandro’s jaw tightened. He was furious to have been put in the position of being treated like some sort of hero and not having a clue why, and his anger was aimed at the person he held responsible for it.

‘Well, explain now.’

‘The fund-raiser was for Hannah.’

‘The child in the wheelchair?’

Zoe nodded. ‘Hannah had surgery for a spinal tumour. It was successful, they got all the tumour, but the pressure on the spinal cord caused damage and she can’t walk. The doctors can’t do anything, but Chloe, her mum, found a hospital in Boston that might be able to help. The treatment is experimental but so far the results have been really good.’

‘And all this today was for that cause?’

She nodded.

His dark brows drew together in a straight line above his hawkish nose. ‘Why on earth did you not tell me this straight away?’

She stared at him, staggered he could ask the question with a straight face…Priceless—the man was incredible. ‘Possibly because you didn’t give me a chance?’

Before he could respond there was a tap on the door and Chloe poked her head into the room.

‘I almost forgot—we’re having a party tomorrow at our house. Please come, Mr Montero.’

‘Isandro.’

‘Isandro,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m sure Zoe will drive you if you want a drink,’ Zoe was mortified to hear her friend suggest warmly. ‘Her being the teetotaller she is.’

Zoe tensed, dreading the man would respond with a crushing refusal to the invitation, but to her surprise he simply nodded and said, ‘Most kind