He leaned his elbow against the dining table, looking at her in the candlelight. “Why are you so defensive? What have men tried with you?”
She stared at him, then said stiffly, “I don’t see how that’s any interest of yours.”
“Oh, come on,” he said with a cajoling smile. “Just this morning, Afonso Moreira was complaining to me on the phone, saying you were quite impossible to seduce. An ice queen, I think his words were.”
“Moreira is a fool,” she retorted. “His idea of seduction was to make smacking sounds with his lips every time I passed him in the hallway. When I ignored him, he slapped my backside.”
Stefano’s eyes widened. “What did you do? Slap his cheek?”
“I had no need to resort to violence,” she said uncomfortably. “I simply let him know that his attentions were not appreciated.”
His smile spread into a grin that made his eyes twinkle. “Yes, I bet you did,” he said. “I can only imagine. He’s probably still frozen solid in a chunk of ice from your response.”
Annabelle felt a lump in her throat at the criticism. “You think I’m cold and horrible, then?”
“To the contrary, señorita.” His dark eyes met hers. “I think you’re magnificent.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She looked at the floor. “So what has worked with you?” she mumbled. “With women?”
He took another sip of wine, then glanced at her with a playboy’s careless smile. “Usually this is what works. Flirting, asking questions, drinking wine. Why?” His smile spread to a grin. “Is my charm starting to get to you?”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. “That’s not what I meant. I know you think no woman can resist you. But what about you? Has any woman ever gotten under your skin?”
“Oh.” The smile on his face faded. He lifted a dark eyebrow, then looked toward the faded paint of the crest of arms on the far wall. “Did you know, as a boy, I used to steal horses from this estate?”
Was he changing the subject? Frowning, she gave an incredulous laugh. “Really? I can’t believe it.”
“All right, not steal,” he said. “Borrow. I felt sorry for the horses because the owners ignored them. I took them for exercise when my father wasn’t looking. Then I was caught riding a stallion bareback by one of the guests—the coach of a famous show-jumping team. Instead of denouncing me to the owner, he invited me to join his team. I said no. I was only eighteen and didn’t want to leave my family. Until …” His lips turned downward. “Until the coach’s beautiful blond daughter asked me in a way I couldn’t resist.”
A dull ache filled Annabelle like a thud. Why? She couldn’t be jealous! What did she care about some blond girl who’d once had power over Stefano? She didn’t! “So what happened?”
Again that shrug. “Last I heard, she married a wealthy man in Mexico City. But I cared for her, once. When I was too young to know better. Until I discovered the kind of woman she really was.”
“What kind?”
“The wrong kind.” He looked at her. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
She licked her lips. “You speak of the coach and his daughter so scornfully. But … they took you from poverty, didn’t they? They gave you your start?”
“In a way,” he said grudgingly. “I used money from my year of show-jumping to buy this ranch sixteen years ago.”
She shook her head, furrowing her brow. “Then I don’t understand why you stopped your horse at the equestrian show. Why turn on the people who’d helped you?”
He looked away. “I had my reasons.”
“And—”
“I answered your question,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
“What do you want to know?” she said hesitantly.
“Why are you so alone?”
She stared at him in shock, her mouth open.
“You came here without an assistant,” he continued silkily. “I’d imagined most photographers of your caliber would travel with an entourage.”
Ah. So that was what he’d meant. For a moment she’d thought he’d meant … that he’d somehow seen.