‘You are staying at the Estancia La Lucia?’ He glanced behind him even though the elegant colonial house was over an hour away. ‘You shouldn’t be riding alone. What happened to the rest of your party? You should have a groom with you.’
‘Oh, please.’ Baking hot from the relentless sunshine and aching from her fall, Faith shot him a warning look. ‘I’m just not in the mood for all that macho Argentine-man thing. Not right now.’
He lifted an eyebrow in silent mockery. ‘Argentine-man thing?’
‘You know what I mean.’ She rubbed at the dirt on her breeches. ‘The mega-macho approach. The “sling a woman over your shoulder” method of communication.’
‘Interesting description.’ His eyes laughed into hers. ‘This is South America, cariño. Men know how to be men.’
‘I’d noticed. Ever since I stepped off the aeroplane I’ve been surrounded by so much testosterone that it’s driving me mad.’
‘Welcome to Argentina.’ There was gentle mockery in his sexy, accented drawl and suddenly she felt impossibly awkward and shy and her reaction to him infuriated her because she’d always thought of herself as a confident person.
‘Do you work here?’
His hesitation was so brief she decided that she must have imagined it. ‘Yes.’
‘Lucky you.’ She assumed he must be one of the gauchos, the cowboys who worked with the nine-hundred head of cattle that grazed this land. Dragging her eyes away from his, she wondered why this particular man was having such an effect on her. Yes, he was good-looking but so were many of the men she’d met since she’d arrived in South America.
But there was something about him…
‘Your English is amazing.’
‘That’s because I sometimes talk to women before I throw them over my shoulder.’ He studied her for a long disturbing moment, a powerful, confident male totally at home in his surroundings. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there, as if he were making up his mind about something.
The heat went from oppressive to unbearable and the chemistry between them was so shockingly intense that she actually felt herself sway towards him in anticipation.
She desperately wanted him to kiss her and the strength of that need shocked her because she’d been pushing men away since the day she’d arrived at Buenos Aires. She was here to work, study and learn, not to meet a man. But suddenly her lips were tingling with anticipation and she found herself trapped by the lazy, knowing expression in his dangerously attractive eyes. It was as if he was savouring the moment and she knew that he’d read her thoughts. Her sense of anticipation exploded into an all-consuming sexual excitement that she’d never before experienced.
She waited breathlessly, knowing that she was poised on the brink of something wickedly exciting and sensing that this man was going to change her life for ever.
But instead of kissing her he gave a slow, expressive smile and turned his attention to her horse. ‘Your horse needs a drink.’
Released from the force of his gaze, Faith felt her entire body go limp and her face flood with colour. ‘My horse needs a lot of things.’
What had happened just then?
Had she imagined the connection between them? Had it all been in her head?
Her eyes slid to his broad shoulders and the long, lean length of his strong legs as he led her horse to the river.
No, she hadn’t imagined it. But this was no teenage boy eager for a quick grope and instant satisfaction; she was dealing with someone else entirely. He was all man, from the glossy black hair and darkened jaw to the powerful muscle that hardened his unmistakably male physique. He was cool, sophisticated and experienced and her stomach curled inside her because he carried himself with such confidence and she knew, she just knew, that he was playing with her.
Feeling as though the temperature had just shot up by a hundred degrees, Faith glared at his broad back and then bit her lip, wishing she could get rid of the agonising sizzle that was burning inside her.
Angry with herself and with him, she lifted her chin and strolled towards him, determined not to let him see how much he’d affected her.
‘I need to be getting back.’ She took Fuego’s reins and vaulted into the saddle, taking some satisfaction from the way the man’s eyes lingered on her slim thighs.
She hadn’t imagined the chemistry. The searing attraction wasn’t all on her side.
‘Wait.’ He closed a hand over Fuego’s reins, preventing the horse from moving. ‘You say that you work at the estancia. In what capacity? Do you work in the guest quarters?’
‘You’re showing your prejudices again.’ Agonisingly aware of him, she rubbed a hand over the horse’s neck to focus herself. ‘All the Argentine men I’ve met so far seem to think that a woman’s place is in the—’ She stopped herself just in time, but he lifted an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with wicked humour.
‘You were saying? We Argentine men think a woman’s place is in the…?’
He was so desperately attractive that for a moment she couldn’t speak and she certainly didn’t want to finish her sentence. It would draw the conversation towards an extremely dangerous area that she knew was best avoided. ‘Kitchen,’ she said lamely. ‘Kitchen.’