Susan Stephens

The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian


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and then he heard her footsteps crossing the room to open the door.

      ‘Nacho,’ she said, in a very different tone from the one she’d used for the dog as she swung the door wide.

      ‘You knew it was me?’

      Coming straight from his call to Elias, Nacho was strung tight as a drum.

      Sensing this, Grace lifted her chin. ‘I will always know when it’s you. Your horse has a distinctive stride. And the way you knock on the door is quite unique. I’m surprised it’s still standing. And I could feel your tension a mile away—’

      ‘My what?’ he said.

      ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘So, what can I do for you, Nacho?’

      No other woman spoke to him like this—with the possible exception of his sister, Lucia. Was this aloof attitude some defence mechanism Grace had perfected since going blind? Did she push everyone away now?

      ‘You should move into the main house,’ he said brusquely.

      He had already turned and was on his way, having anticipated Grace’s immediate compliance—her gratitude, even.

      ‘Is that your acceptance speech?’ she said, calling him back. ‘Have you been speaking to Elias, by any chance?’

      ‘You’ve spoken to him too?’ he said.

      ‘I might have done,’ she fudged. ‘So, am I to stay, Nacho? Is this your invitation?’

      ‘I suppose you could call it one,’ he conceded brusquely.

      ‘But why would you want me to move into the main house?’

      ‘Because you’ll get the assistance you need there, obviously.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.

      ‘You’ll be more comfortable,’ he explained impatiently, knowing he should try to be more diplomatic.

      ‘I’m very comfortable where I am, thank you,’ she said coolly. ‘And I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.’

      ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Grace. How would you be inconveniencing me?’

      ‘By making you more angry than you are now? By having you walk on eggshells during my stay? By making you feel duty-bound to watch over me?’ She finished the tirade with an angry gesture. ‘How much more time must I waste convincing you that I don’t need any special treatment, Nacho?’

      ‘How much time would you waste?’ he fired back incredulously.

      ‘Haven’t you got it yet?’ she said. ‘I’m completely independent.’

      ‘Don’t tell me what to think, Grace,’ he warned. ‘If you’re going to work for me, I’ll show you the same consideration I show all my staff and not one iota more. Unless, of course, you’re looking for pity?’

      ‘Well, thanks for the heads-up,’ she flashed, ‘but I’m not working for you. I’m working for Elias. And if I were looking for pity—which I’m not—you would be the last person I’d turn to.’

      He took a step back as she slammed the door in his face. Raking his hair with angry fingers, he was forced to admit that she’d got one thing right—he was the last person she should turn to. But that didn’t change anything. His mind was made up.

      Balling his fist, he hammered on the door.

      ‘What now?’ Grace demanded, flinging it wide.

      ‘Do you mind if I come in for a moment?’

      ‘It’s your guest cottage,’ she reminded him with a shrug.

      She stood well clear as Nacho walked in, and was glad of Buddy’s warm presence nestling protectively against her legs. Closing the door after him, she heard Nacho start to pace. The room seemed smaller suddenly, and the air swirled around him as if it were in turmoil too.

      No one had ever affected her like this. No one had ever frightened her quite so much, or made her want things so much she couldn’t think straight. She’d been a fool to imagine she could ever do business with Nacho as if they had never met—as if she had never felt his hands on her arms or his lips on her mouth.

      ‘I can see you’re coping really well, Grace.’

      Not right now she wasn’t.

      ‘Please don’t patronise me,’ she flashed. ‘And please don’t feel you must make a speech. There are people far worse off than me who pick up their lives and get on with things. I don’t need your sympathy, Nacho. I’m here to do a job. All I ask is that you treat me like anyone else and make no allowances. You don’t even have to be around while I’m working. I’m quite happy to liaise with your people and with Elias back home. I can draw up a report and send it to you as soon as we’re finished. You don’t even have to know I’m here.’

      ‘Grace, please sit down.’

      ‘I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind,’ she said, keeping the back of the chair between them like a shield.

      ‘As you wish. You’re right. I have spoken to Elias and we have agreed that you may taste the wine.’

      ‘Really?’ For the sake of her old friend she somehow managed to hide her affront.

      ‘And when you’ve finished the tasting,’ Nacho went on, ‘I’ll arrange for your flight home.’

      ‘There’s more to this job than tasting wine.’ She was in turmoil, and her promise to Elias hung by a thread. Her body was pulled one way by Nacho’s sheer magnetism, while her mind was being pulled another. She wanted to stay, to experience more of Nacho, and yet she wanted to tell him to go to hell. She forced her thoughts back to business. ‘Elias needs a lot more information before he’s in a position to place an order.’

      ‘Enough,’ Nacho said firmly. ‘That is all.’

      ‘Are you firing me?’ Before he had chance to answer, she demanded, ‘On what grounds?’ Her resolve to remain calm and concentrate on business had completely vanished as her anger increased. ‘You haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself.’

      ‘I don’t have time to waste on a novice. And I won’t take chances with family money. I need an expert now, Grace.’

      ‘So let me get this straight. You’re prepared to allow me to taste the wine, but any comment I make will be classified as one amateur chatting informally to another?’

      ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I realise how disappointed you must be.’

      ‘You have no idea,’ she said bitterly.

      ‘Please don’t worry about your homeward journey,’ Nacho went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You will be flown home in my jet, and I’ll smooth your path at the other end—’

      ‘I don’t need you or anyone else to smooth my path,’ she interrupted angrily. ‘Believe it or not, Nacho, I’ve been doing very well on my own without your help. I’m quite capable of booking a scheduled flight and having a cab take me to the airport! ’

      ‘And your dog?’

      Grace went still. Hadn’t they warned her at the rehabilitation centre to always give herself time to think? Couldn’t she see why now? ‘I’m sure I can arrange something,’ she insisted, her stomach churning as she hoped that was true.

      ‘There’s no need,’ Nacho assured her calmly. ‘It’s all in hand. And you don’t have to worry about Elias, either. I’ll explain that you didn’t feel ready for an assignment of this size.’

      ‘And he’ll laugh in your face,’ she said, realising time was running out as she heard Nacho’s hand on the door handle. Against all that was sensible she wanted—needed—him to stay.

      ‘My