Rafael's Contract Bride. Nina Milne

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СКАЧАТЬ blinked. What? As if what by what? There clearly was a spell in the air.

      Focus on the vines, Rafael.

      ‘I think of it as the scent of anticipation and wonder...the whole vineyard is on the brink of what will eventually lead to this year’s harvest.’

      ‘So how does it work? I always imagine a vineyard looking as it does just before harvest.’

      ‘Most people do, but this is a special time too. Bloom time.’ Rafael halted. ‘It’s when the developing grape clusters actually flower, get fertilised. Look.’

      He pushed aside a saucer-sized vine leaf and beckoned Cora closer to see the thumb’s-length yellow-green nub, wreathed with a crown of cream-coloured threadlike petals. A step brought her right next to him and she leant forward to smell the cluster.

      His throat tightened and his lungs squeezed at her nearness, at her scent—a heady mix of vanilla with a blueberry overtone. Her bowed head was so close he felt an insane urge to stroke the sure-to-be-silky strands of hair. The drone of a bumblebee, the heat of the sun on the back of his neck seemed intensified—and then she stepped back and the spell broke. Reality interceded. There was no room for attraction here.

      The whole moment had been an illusion, a strange misfiring of his synapses—no more. Maybe brought on by the importance of his mission.

      Her face flushed as she looked up at him. ‘The smell is...intoxicating. You should work out a way to sell it. So tell me—what happens next?’

      He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

      The unexpected thought made him step away. Fast. ‘You really want to know?’

      ‘Yes.’

      Fifteen minutes later Rafael broke off—at this rate he’d bore her comatose. Which would not further his plan at all. Yet Cora’s interest seemed genuine—the questions she asked were pertinent and proof of that.

      ‘Sorry. I get a bit carried away.’

      She shook her head, the crease in her forehead in contrast to the small smile on her lips. ‘It’s fascinating. I didn’t realise that you were so passionate about the whole process.’

      ‘How can I not be? The whole process is magical. Though I’ve made sure we have the best technology too. I truly believe that the mix of the traditional and the new works. It took me a while to convince Tomás, but I’ve even brought him round. So it’s a combination of his eye and modern technology that picks the grapes.’

      ‘So you’re involved the whole time?’

      ‘Absolutely.’

      ‘To be honest, I assumed it was a hobby for you. You know...kind of like most people buy a bottle of wine you bought a vineyard. But it sounds like you care.’

      ‘Of course I do. These vineyards are people’s livelihoods, and they have been here for years—in some cases for centuries. But it’s more than that—this is a job I love.’

      ‘More than you loved being a global CEO? More than you love your lifestyle?’

      ‘Yes. The whole CEO gig wasn’t me. Too much time spent in boardrooms. It was restrictive. I mean, I loved it that I invented an app that took the world by storm, but after a while it was all about marketing and shares and advertising and I knew it was time to sell.’

      ‘So why do you think the wine business will be any different?’

      ‘Maybe it won’t be.’

      ‘So if times get tough or you get bored you’ll just move on?’

      Cora’s lips were pursed in what looked to be yet more disapproval, yet he’d swear there was a hint of wistfulness in her voice. He shrugged. ‘Why not? Life is too short.’

      ‘But surely some things are worth sticking around for?’

      If so he hadn’t found them yet, and he’d make no apology for the way he lived his life.

      His mother’s life had been wasted—years of apathy and might-have-beens because she had never got over his father’s betrayal. At his father’s behest Ramon de Guzman of the house of Aiza had deceived and then abandoned Rafael’s mother, and Emma Martinez had never recovered—hadn’t been able to live her life as it should have been lived. Until it had been too late—when the diagnosis of terminal illness had jolted her into a fervent desire to pack years of life into her last remaining months.

      The thought darkened his mood, and it was only lightened by the idea of winning restitution in his mother’s name.

      Once Don Carlos sold him the vineyard, Rafael would tell him the truth. That he had sold his precious Aiza land to his own illegitimate grandson, whom he had once named the tainted son of a whore. Don Carlos and his son Ramon would seethe with humiliation and Rafael would watch with pleasure.

      ‘Come on. Lunch should be ready.’

      Time to get this show on the road.

       CHAPTER THREE

      AS CORA WALKED through the beauty of the flowering vines curiosity swirled with anticipation. Over lunch presumably Rafael would outline the role he had in mind for her, and she had to concede he’d played his hand well.

      The vineyard had enticed her with its scents and its atmosphere, and in the glorious heat of the Spanish sun it would be hard to refuse whatever he offered. But she would—because she knew with deep-seated certainty that whatever Rafael offered there would be a catch—a veritable tangle of strings attached. As the saying went, there was no such thing as a free lunch—let alone a lunch you were being paid thousands to eat.

      Plus—she might as well be honest—it wasn’t only the vineyard that exerted heady temptation. It was Rafael himself. Her prejudices against Rafael Martinez seemed to be in the process of disintegration. After her harangue on the plane about his lifestyle the very last thing she had expected was what she’d seen on the vineyard tour.

      Rafael took his wine seriously—he’d spoken of the grapes with passion and a deep knowledge—and it was also clear that he had ethics and environmental morals she couldn’t fault.

      But, be that as it might, it didn’t alter the fact that Rafael Martinez was dangerous. Because there had been moments when her heart had skipped a beat and his proximity had made her shiver despite the heat of the Mediterranean sun. Made her believe that all those beautiful glamorous women might well count themselves lucky.

      The thought made her blood simmer. How could she, of all people, be at even the smallest risk of attraction? Rafael was like both her siblings—he only dallied with the beautiful and all he touched turned to gold. Cora was ordinary and average and went pink in the sunshine. Plus, she disapproved of his lifestyle, for heaven’s sake.

      As they approached the cool white villa a small plump woman bustled towards them, a beaming smile on her face as she surveyed Cora, and burst into a stream of voluble Spanish.

      ‘This is María—Tomás’s СКАЧАТЬ