As Nick had promised, the food was beautiful, and as they ate Nick took charge of the conversation and Liza was happy to follow. They talked in an easy manner, discussing films, books, music, and Nick’s experiences on various projects. Liza was fascinated and asked dozens of questions. He told her how he had expanded the company worldwide. He spoke with dry humour of the different business practices in the different countries, and the amusing situations that arose from the differences.
Nick was not the wealthy, idle lotus-eater she had thought; he obviously worked hard. But his skill, his charm, was such that he made everything appear easy. He told a good story, sometimes against himself, but she formed the impression that whatever the circumstances Nick always came out the winner. He had a brilliant mind, and she doubted anyone crossed him and got away with it.
Scraping the last mouthful of the mouth-watering soufflé into her mouth, she glanced up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes. ‘In a way you and I are a bit alike—you studied art and don’t use it. I read history at university and thought I would visit all the great historical places in the world, but instead I have ended up in finance, a bit of a waste.’
‘The experience of university life is an end in itself,’ Nick argued. ‘And I do use my knowledge; I appreciate anything of beauty, be it a woman or a landscape, I know where to site a building so it is aesthetically pleasing, though, with the upsurge in tourism around here in the last few years, some are anything but.’
Liza chuckled. ‘I never thought of that.’
‘Have you ever thought of changing, Liza?’ Nick demanded seriously. ‘You’re young—you have plenty of time to start another career.’ He was satisfied he had discovered all he needed to know. Henry Brown was returning to Lanzarote. As for Liza, he was almost sure she was innocent of any crime, and, even if she was guilty, once away from financial temptation and into something more academic it was possible she could change, and he never questioned his reasoning, simply pursued the thought.
‘You could get out of finance and back into what you really want to do,’ he suggested. ‘It is never too late, Liza, believe me. I might even be able to help you.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Liza smiled. ‘But don’t take it so seriously, Nick; I’ll survive whatever.’ And she sat back with a sigh of contentment. ‘That meal was magnificent, Greta is a great cook.’
‘You can tell her that in a minute,’ Nick said curtly. He didn’t know why but her casual attitude infuriated him, had she no idea of the danger she was in? Did she even care? Pushing back his chair, he stood up. ‘Greta will serve coffee in the sitting room.’
But what was really bugging him was his superior intellect had apparently deserted him. He had already missed half of the family celebration in Spain and if he didn’t get back to his mother’s for the final party he and his mother were hosting tomorrow evening, his mother would never forgive him. But what to do with Liza? He dared not leave her alone on the island without telling Carl or he would never forgive him either.
He had been racking his brains to think of some way of persuading Liza to come to Spain with him, and incidentally keep her out of harm’s way, but was damned if he knew how to do it. Short of asking her ‘Will you come to Spain with me for the rest of the weekend?’ But he knew that would go down like a lead balloon, given that she had made a point of avoiding visiting the Menendez home for years.
No, he had to think of something else, and, confident as he was in his masculine powers of seduction, he doubted all the seductive technique in the world would convince Liza to fly off to Spain with him only a day after their meeting up again.
Rising to her feet, Liza followed him through into the elegant living room, wondering what had caused the sudden coolness in the atmosphere. She sat down on one of the soft hide sofas, the occasional table already held the accompaniments for coffee, and a moment later Greta appeared with a pot to add to the already prepared tray.
Liza smiled at the other woman and thanked her for a lovely meal, and then stiffened when Nick chose to sit down beside her on the sofa instead of taking the one opposite. During the meal there had been space between them and the atmosphere had been good most of the time, but now she sensed a tension in the air, and she felt distinctly crowded.
‘Will you be mother?’ Nick asked smoothly.
The words hung in the air as Liza had a vivid mental image of being mother to Nick’s child, a small dark-haired angel. Her face turned scarlet at the provocative thought and hastily she bent forward and filled two small cups with the aromatic coffee. ‘Sugar, milk?’ she asked, without looking at him.
‘As it comes.’
Lifting one cup, she turned slightly, her hand stilling. Nick was lounging back against the cushions, one long arm flung along the back, his jacket hanging open and his shirt pulled tight across his muscular chest, she could see the slight shading of body hair and swallowed hard.
He gave her a long, sardonic look. ‘Are you going to give me the coffee, or simply hold it?’
Blushing at her stupidity—she was eyeing the man like the dumb teenager she had once been—she thrust the cup at him, a little of the liquid spilling, and his long fingers curved around hers.
‘Steady, Liza. I want to drink it, not drown in it,’ he drawled mockingly.
The touch of his hand sent a warmth shimmering through her, and quickly she snatched her hand back, and, grasping her own cup of coffee, forced herself to sit back against the sofa, and lift the cup to her mouth. She took one sip and almost burnt her tongue. Her lips tightened and she just prevented a yelp escaping.
She had to get over her panic; hadn’t she decided in the hotel earlier to take a chance? Nick was just a man like any other. But that was the trouble, he was not like any other man she had ever known, she thought ruefully, casting him a sidelong glance from beneath the thick screen of her lashes. How was it, she mused, that as a young girl she had had a crush on him and was brutally cured of the illusion by the man himself? For years she thought she hated him and yet now one day in his company and all she saw was a dominant, attractive male who turned her bones to jelly.
Feeling vulnerable in a man’s presence for the first time in years, she was not sure she trusted the feeling, and common sense told her to thank Nick for the meal and leave. With that in mind she drained her coffee-cup and replaced it on the table, and, turning slightly, she glanced at his face. He was looking down at her, his mouth a hard, taut line, and for a moment Liza felt a slight shiver of fear, or was it a shiver of sensual anticipation? She was not sure which, and quickly fixed her gaze somewhere over his left shoulder and before she could weaken.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Nick. But I think it is time I got back to my hotel.’ She made to rise, only to find a large restraining hand on her forearm.
‘Please join me in a brandy at least,’ Nick said softly, and placed his cup on the table, his dark gaze holding her own, and his thumb caressing the underside of her arm to devastating effect.
Liza was in two minds when the arrival of Paul solved the problem for her.
‘Your mother is on the line.’ He addressed Nick, a cordless telephone in his hand.
Saved by the bell! Nick thought, a huge smile lighting his handsome features, and took the telephone. ‘Hi, Mamma.’ He listened with delight as she harangued him about leaving her a note, and flying off to Lanzarote when she had been expecting him at home.
‘You were supposed to join your uncle and family tonight for dinner, and you’d better get yourself back here quick for the celebratory lunch and the party tomorrow night.’