‘So we are going to be working together, Maria?’
She sounded so excited. Rico ground his jaw and watched with concern as the two women hugged each other. Zoë Chapman wouldn’t win him round so easily.
‘I have never appeared on television,’ Maria exclaimed.
‘I’m going to make it special for you, Maria.’
Zoë’s promise grated on him. If she let Maria down—
‘I think we’ll make a good team.’ Maria looked at him and raised her eyebrows, as if daring him to disagree.
For now it seemed he had no choice in the matter. Zoë Chapman had won this round, but he would be waiting if she stepped out of line. Maria might have been taken in, but he wasn’t so easily convinced. The thought of an artist of Maria’s calibre appearing on some trivial holiday programme with a few recipes thrown in made him sick to his stomach.
As far as he was concerned, Ms Chapman had identified her quarry and had stopped at nothing until she got her own way. She was no innocent abroad. She had all the grit and determination of the paparazzi. That wary look he had detected in her eyes when she looked at him didn’t fool him for a minute. It was all an act. She was as guilty as hell. But Maria was right. He wouldn’t presume to make decisions for Maria Cassavantes, though in his experience third-rate television companies only dealt in plastic people; treasures like Maria were out of their league.
If he had to, he would step in to protect her from Zoë Chapman. But for now he was sufficiently intrigued to give Ms Chapman enough rope to hang herself. He would watch her like a hawk, and the first time she tried to cheapen or trivialise what Maria Cassavantes stood for both she and her television cameras would be thrown out of Spain.
CHAPTER TWO
‘CAN we talk business now, Maria?’
‘That sounds very formal,’ Rico cut in.
He was suspicious of her motives. She had to curb her enthusiasm, take it slowly, Zoë reminded herself. She usually got to know people first, before talking business. Building confidence was crucial. Contrary to popular opinion, not everyone wanted to appear on television. Usually she was good at choosing the right moment, but having Rico in the picture was making her edgy, making her rush things.
‘I know it’s late—I won’t keep you long.’ She glanced at Rico. ‘Perhaps if Maria and I could talk alone?’
‘It’s all right, Rico,’ Maria said soothingly.
‘I’d rather stay.’
Zoë looked up at him. ‘It’s really not necessary.’
‘Nevertheless.’ He folded his arms.
For Maria’s sake Zoë tried to bite back her impatience, but she was tired and stressed and the words just kept tumbling out. ‘Really, Rico, I can’t see any reason why you should stay. Maria and I are quite capable of sorting this out between us—’
‘It’s better if I stay.’
She could see he was adamant. ‘Are you Maria’s manager?’
‘They call him El Paladín,’ Maria cut in, interposing her not inconsiderable body between them.
‘El Paladín?’ Zoë repeated. ‘Doesn’t that mean The Champion?’ She only had a very basic knowledge of conversational Spanish to call upon. ‘What’s that for, Rico? Winning every argument?’
‘Rico is everyone’s champion,’ Maria said fondly, patting his arm.
That seemed highly unlikely—especially where she was concerned, Zoë thought. ‘Champion of what?’ she pressed.
‘Zoë likes her questions,’ Rico observed sardonically, ‘but she’s not too keen on giving answers about why she’s really here in Cazulas—’
‘And Zoë’s right about you,’ Maria cut in. ‘You don’t like losing arguments, Rico.’
‘I like to win,’ he agreed softly.
Lose? Win? Where was all this leading? Zoë wondered, suppressing a shiver as she broke eye contact with Rico. ‘We’re never going to win Rico’s approval, Maria, but I believe we can make great television together.’
‘What have you been telling this young woman, malvado?’ Maria demanded, turning her powerful stare on him.
‘Nothing. If you want to dance and she wants to cook, that’s fine by me. Only problem is, we know you can dance.’
‘Rico!’ Maria frowned at him.
‘My third television series says I can cook!’
‘There—you see, Rico,’ Maria said, smiling at Zoë.
‘And the connection between dancing and cooking is what, exactly?’ He raised his shoulders in a shrug as he stared at Zoë.
He would never go for her idea, but at least she had Maria’s support. She had to forget Rico’s insults and build on what she had. But he was one complication she could do without. He probably crooked his finger and every woman around came running. Well, not this woman.
Turning to Maria, Zoë deliberately cut him out. ‘This is the connection, Maria: the people around me inspire the food I cook on television. In this part of Spain the influence of flamenco is everywhere.’
‘So cooking isn’t just a hobby for you?’ Rico said.
Zoë stared up at him. He refused to be cut out. ‘No, Rico, it’s a full-time career for me.’
‘Along with your television company.’
Maria stepped between them again. ‘So you would like me to dance on your television programme to add some local interest to the dishes you prepare? Is that right, Zoë?’
‘Exactly.’ Zoë’s face was confident as she flashed a glance at Rico. ‘I’ll cook, you’ll dance, and together we’ll make a great team.’
‘Bueno,’ Maria said approvingly. ‘I like the sound of this programme of yours. Of course, any payment must be donated to the village funds.’
‘Absolutely,’ Zoë agreed. ‘Whatever you like.’
Maria smiled. ‘Well, that all sounds quite satisfactory to me.’
But not to Rico, Zoë thought. At least he was silent for now. ‘I have never seen anyone dance like you, Maria. You are fantastic.’
‘Gracias, Zoë. And you are very kind.’
‘Not kind, Maria, just honest.’ Zoë stopped, hearing Rico’s scornful snort in the background. What did she have to do to convince him?
She turned to look at him coldly. There were a couple of buttons undone at the neck of his dark linen shirt, showing just how tanned and firm he was. She turned back quickly to Maria. ‘When you appear, I just know the programme will come to life…’ Zoë’s voice faded. She could feel Rico’s sexual interest lapping over her in waves.
‘Don’t worry, Zoë,’ Maria assured her, filling the awkward silence. ‘It will be fine—just you wait and see.’
Zoë wasn’t so sure, and she was glad of Maria’s arm linked through her own as the older woman drew her away from Rico, towards the bright circle of light around the campfire.
‘Have you offered Zoë a drink?’ Maria said, turning back to him.
‘She’s had more than enough to drink already.’
‘Surely you didn’t let her drink the village liquor?’
‘It’s all right, Maria,’ Zoë said hastily. She could see the hard-won progress she had made winning Maria’s trust vanishing in the heat of a very Latin exchange.