‘Why would I drive you to a bus station?’ he said, sounding annoyed now too. ‘We’ve got plans for tonight, remember?’
The red haze went purple. How could he mention that here? In front of his other woman? It insulted them both. ‘Not any more we haven’t.’ Her voice rose despite her best intentions. ‘I’m leaving and if you don’t want to take me, I’ll find someone who does.’
‘Think again.’ His fingers closed around her upper arm. ‘You came with me, which means you’re leaving with me.’
She struggled against the iron grip. ‘I’ll do what I damn well please.’
‘Zane, let her go, you’re making a scene,’ the goddess remarked, her voice calm but her warm chocolate eyes alight with interest.
Zane let her go, but ground out, ‘I’m not the one making the scene—she is.’
Iona’s chest puffed up with indignation, but before she could give it to him with both barrels the goddess intervened again. ‘Iona, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’
The snake coiled, but she refused to let it strike. She mustn’t lash out at this woman. It wasn’t her fault. It was Zane. He was the one who had brought her here under false pretences.
‘Look, Maria, I’m sure you’re a very nice person.’ The venom she didn’t want to admit to dripped from her tongue. ‘Zane certainly seems to think so. And it’s not your fault that he brought me along and then made us both look like fools.’ She shot her best squinty-eyed look at Zane to telegraph her anger. ‘But I’m not in the market for a threesome.’
The woman’s eyebrows launched towards that glorious tumble of curls.
‘And I’m sure you’re not either,’ Iona continued, diligently ignoring Zane’s muffled oath and the shocked laugh that choked out of the woman’s lips. ‘Unfortunately, though, I’m stranded until he gives me a lift. But as soon as I get to the nearest bus station, he’s all yours.’
Iona swivelled her head at the hissed exclamation from Zane, whose temper seemed to have dissolved in shock. ‘Iona, you’ve got this all wrong.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she whispered furiously, finally noticing the absence of music, and the sea of watchful faces currently fixed on their little tableau. The sound of muffled laughter rippled through the crowd, making her mortification complete. ‘What?’ She glared at Zane, who simply thrust a hand through his hair and swore again.
‘Actually, Iona, it probably is my fault,’ the goddess announced as the laughter finally began to die down. ‘As I’m Zane’s mother.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
She gaped at the goddess. She had to be going deaf, or blind, or both. She simply could not have heard that correctly. This woman looked gorgeous, and glamorous, and not a day over forty. She’d never asked Zane how old he was but he had to be at least thirty? Didn’t he?
‘Maria Montoya, Iona.’ The goddess held out an expertly manicured hand. ‘Zane’s mother.’ She let out another little laugh, her expression friendly and giving, as if she were willing Iona to share the joke. ‘And believe me, it really is a pleasure to meet you. My son has always needed a woman with the courage to stand up to him.’
Iona stared at the offered hand, sick waves of nausea hitting the rice and chicken and salsa she’d consumed. ‘But that’s…That’s not possible,’ she mumbled, the words barely discernible through the chainsaw buzzing in her eardrums. ‘It’s not. You’re too young.’
‘I wish that were true. But I’m flattered you think so.’
The woman’s humour and the kindness in her gaze made the churning increase. Iona covered her mouth. What had she done? What had she said? How could she have insulted Zane’s mother that way? In front of his whole family? This wasn’t humiliating—it was practically certifiable.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ she said, then turned and darted through the crowd, who parted before her like the Red Sea—or, rather, like people trying to avoid a certifiable nutjob.
‘Iona, wait up!’
She accelerated, staggering past the Red Sea of amused, or astonished or simply stunned faces. These were people he and his mother knew, people who loved and respected him—even if he didn’t seem to share the sentiment—and she’d just made that situation even worse.
She raced round the side of The huge house, having to push past those people who hadn’t witnessed the freak show she’d put on in the garden, eventually making it to the front lawn and stumbling down the stone steps. The driveway wound through the fields of dark vines plump with grapes, but she headed down it, her panicked mind deciding she would walk all the way back to Pacific Grove rather than ask Zane for a lift again.
She got as far as the last car, when footsteps pounded on the gravel behind her and strong fingers grasped her arm.
‘Damn it, where are you going?’ he said, hauling her round to face him.
She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to hold back the tears, but unable to look him in the face. ‘I’ll be fine. It won’t take me long to make it to the road and I can hitch-hike from there.’
‘No way are you hitch-hiking anywhere. And it’s three miles to the road. And dark.’
‘Please, I’ll be fine, if you’ll just please, please, please, tell your mother how sorry I am.’
He probably hated her now. And who could blame him? She’d made a laughing stock of them both.