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He cleared his throat with a nervous cough. “I’ve made no secret of the fact I want more than you’re willing to give, but I don’t believe you’ll ever be able to love any man while you’ve such a huge emotional investment in Miguel Aragon.”

“I despise him!”

He recoiled from her vicious outburst. “It’s indifference that’s the opposite of love, not hate. Your father is a part of you, certainly the most significant part. You need to go to him, and not just for yourself but for all of us who love you. Do it for us.”

She bristled. “Is that an ultimatum?”

“I’ve always admired your spirit, and I know you’ve had other relationships. They’ve all been as one-sided as ours, haven’t they? You shrug off men like old coats. Tell me if I’m wrong. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t work out for us, but how many men have you truly loved?”

The setting sun left the jagged mountain range silhouetted against a vermillion blaze. Maggie sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly as the night smeared the sky with red-violet streamers. “Do you want names?”

“No, damn it, I want the truth.” When she didn’t reply, he got up and pushed away from the couch. “You always brush off my counseling skills, but I actually believed I possessed the necessary insights to make things work for us. How’s that for a colossal ego?”

She heard the hurt in his voice and offered the only reassurance she could. “Craig, please. This isn’t about us.”

His shoulders hunched as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “The hell it isn’t. I never stood a chance with you, and if you don’t go to Spain and confront your father for abandoning you, the next man won’t either.”

He walked out of the room, and while he deserved at least a token pursuit, she remained where she sat and flinched when he slammed the door. Her father’s letter lay on the coffee table, and she reached for it but found no tender message left unread. The bastard had simply issued an order, but that didn’t mean she had to meekly comply. Then again, Craig’s advice, no matter how unwanted, was sound.

He had a master’s degree in psychology and had worked with high school students and their families for more than ten years. He had a clear understanding of troubled families, while she’d grown up on the margin of a happy one. She might have stubbornly refused to admit she had unfinished business with Miguel Aragon, but didn’t she owe it to herself to at least meet him in person? She laughed as she thought while he’d faced many a ferocious bull, he wouldn’t be ready for her.

There were only a couple of weeks left in the spring seme

ster and if she cited a family emergency, she could arrange for a substitute to cover her classes and leave early. She owed Craig an apology, but knowing he’d much rather hear the whole story, she’d wait until she returned home.

“Home,” she whispered softly, for it had never been her father’s luxurious estate. Once made, the decision seemed to have come easily, but the trip could be the most difficult of her life. She looked out toward the night where the sky had darkened to a deep mysterious blue and the mountains were no more than serrated shadows.

Chapter Two

Magdalena’s flight landed at Barcelona’s El Prat airport on Saturday afternoon. She’d sent her father her flight information, but with the harried effort to end the school year early and write lesson plans for her sub, there’d been no time to consider her arrival before boarding the plane. Now as she left customs to enter the passenger arrival lounge, she paused and surveyed the waiting crowd with an anxious glance.

A couple of men were in the right age range, but neither even remotely resembled Miguel Aragon. That she’d foolishly assumed he would be there to meet her struck her as not merely naïve but unbelievably stupid. A mist of anguished tears had already begun to blur her vision before she noticed a chauffeur in a muted gray uniform making his way toward her.

Her fellow passengers surged forward, but Maggie hung back and agilely shifted her balance to avoid being jostled aside. Just ahead, a young woman leapt into a waiting man’s arms. Her husband, Maggie thought, or a lover ecstatic to see her again. A laughing family surrounded a dear little grandmother. A businessman’s burly friend reached out to relieve him of his bulging briefcase. The pair then strode off, talking and gesturing excitedly.

Standing alone, Maggie waited for the chauffeur, who had stumbled over a student’s backpack and come perilously close to falling. He was tall, several inches above six feet, and caught his balance with surprising grace. An infant carried in her father’s arms made a passing grab for the silky ends of Maggie’s hair, and just as she pulled free, the chauffeur reached her side.

His cap was angled low to shade his face, and his sunglasses reflected Maggie’s troubled frown, but his features were unmistakably familiar. It was in the set of his mouth perhaps, or the firmly chiseled chin, but she recognized him instantly as more than a man in Miguel’s employ. She’d known her father had other children, if not exactly how many, but that he’d sent one of her brothers to meet her filled her with an awestruck wonder. The young man whispered her name, and she nodded numbly.

“We can’t talk here,” he cautioned in softly accented English. He grabbed the handle of her carry-on bag. “Is this all you have?”

Maggie glanced at him in amazement. The young man’s hair was as dark and straight as her own, and she was sure his eyes would be as rich and warm a brown as their father’s. “Yes,” she managed rather hoarsely. “I’m not planning on staying long.”

A sly smile curved his well-shaped mouth. “Really?”

Clearly he didn’t believe her, but before Maggie could argue that she always said exactly what she meant, he started back through the rapidly thinning crowd, and she had to quicken her step to keep up. As a dancer, she had considerable endurance, but by the time they crossed the airport lobby and burst out into the bright afternoon sun, she was gasping for breath.

“If it’s much farther, I’d rather wait right here while you bring the car.”

Indifferent to her breathless plea, the chauffeur curled his free hand around her upper arm and nearly lifted her off her feet. “There’s no need. It’s parked nearby.”

Although shocked by his forceful grasp, Maggie refused to be manhandled by some arrogant sibling who’d lacked the manners to offer his name. Maybe he wasn’t really a brother but merely a handsome young man with sinister intentions. After all, her father was a major celebrity in Spain, and she might actually be in danger.

“Let go of me right now, or I’ll scream I’m being kidnapped,” she threatened through tightly clenched teeth.

The chauffeur swore softly under his breath and pulled her around to face him. “Please don’t waste our time with temper tantrums. We may already be too late.”

They were surrounded by travelers shouting to their friends and hailing taxis and hotel vans. Overhead, a departing flight soared toward the clouds, and buffeted by the noise of the screaming jets, she desperately wanted to believe she’d misunderstood him. The seriousness of his expression was utterly convincing, however.


Tags: Phoebe Conn Bullfighter's Daughter Erotic