‘I hope I’m all right dressed like this,’ she said, indicating her jeans and flat shoes. ‘I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I thought if I’d be walking—’
‘You look great,’ he said, barely glancing at her as he walked to the door.
Diego had a sister so he probably blanked out fashion questions as a matter of course, but Maxie wondered if she had underplayed it. Diego was wearing jeans and a crisp white shirt again, but he always looked outstanding, while she felt like a little grey mouse standing next to a tiger.
She might have known Diego would drive a bright red Ferrari. She might have known the moment he stepped out of the building he would be mobbed. She took refuge in the car, not wanting to be subjected to another trial of brief and dismissive scrutiny.
‘You should stay with me,’ he said when he joined her moments later. ‘Why did you run off like that?’ Closing the door, he gunned the engine. ‘I could have used some support.’
It took her a moment before she realised he was serious. It had never occurred to her that someone like Diego might need anything in the way of a boost. ‘I’ll be there for you next time,’ she promised wryly.
‘Make sure you are,’ he said, slanting a glance at her before lowering his sunglasses. ‘That’s why I love the pampas. It’s such a contrast to the city. I can be anonymous there—unless we have a match, of course.’
‘Tell me more,’ she encouraged. This was such a contrast to the dark, brooding man who had met her off the boat, and she was curious about Diego’s life before the accident.
‘We never appreciated the space on the pampas when we were young. My sister Lucia, in particular, positively loathed it. She always felt she was missing out on everything that was happening in Buenos Aires. But now?’ He shrugged. ‘I guess Lucia feels as we all do that the estancia is both our sanctuary and a playground where we all relax. We have one of the best polo pitches in the country,’ he confided, as if this might come as a surprise to her.
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Maxie said, thinking how frighteningly close she felt to him suddenly. How was she supposed to remain safely on the outside looking in now?
She didn’t have to risk her heart, Maxie told herself sensibly. There was such a thing as friendship. They could just be friends.
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN Diego dropped her off, he explained to Maxie that she was on the most exclusive shopping street in Buenos Aires. She would be spoiled for choice, Maxie realised, wondering where to begin. How incredible was this? Maxie Parrish, a girl who arranged things for other people, was suddenly at the centre of all things up-scale and fabulous. And better still—thanks to the success of her business—she could afford it.
But Maxie soon discovered that money wasn’t the problem. Being treated as if girls who wore jeans and sneakers couldn’t afford to breathe the air on this exclusive street was. After trudging round every shop to no avail, she gave up. Spotting a market, she thought, why not? Buenos Aires wasn’t known as the Paris of South America for nothing. The relaxed sprawl of colourful stalls reminded Maxie of the Left Bank markets in Paris. You never know … she thought, crossing the road to explore.
Fortune favours the brave, Maxie mused as she picked out a flirty dress and some sandals to go with it. She had wanted to buy a pair of simple flip-flops, but the young stallholder had wagged a finger at her and picked out a pair of sexy heels. Maxie felt like a baby stork when she tried them on, but the stallholder insisted she must have them.
‘You’ll be dancing on the street tonight,’ she assured Maxie.
Maxie couldn’t picture Diego dancing on the street—though she would like to, Maxie mused as she added a shawl to her purchases in case it grew chilly that evening. With her shopping expedition over, she rang Diego, who had promised to pick her up as soon as she called.
‘Where are you?’ he said, answering at the first ring. ‘Alto Palermo? Avenida Santa Fe?’
‘No—close to the market,’ she explained, giving general directions.
‘What?’ he exploded.
‘Don’t fuss—I can have a coffee until you get here.’
‘Don’t fuss?’ Diego roared. ‘Like anywhere else in the world, some parts of the city are safer than others.’
‘And this part is perfectly safe,’ Maxie insisted. ‘For goodness’ sake, Diego, I’m not a child. I run a company—’
‘And you are a visitor in a foreign land,’ he flashed.
‘Are you mistaking me for a woman who has lost her way, as all the assistants in those posh boutiques seemed to think I had?’ Before directing her to what those shop assistants had explained would be a more affordable part of town, Maxie remembered angrily.
‘What are you talking about?’ Diego demanded.
‘The assistants who refused to serve me just because I’m wearing jeans and sneakers?’ she blazed back, wondering where all this passion had been hiding. ‘I’ve told you where I am,’ she flashed as anger and humiliation battled inside her, ‘and I’ve told you I’m going to have a coffee.’
‘Dios, Maxie!’ Diego rapped down the phone. ‘You’d better tell me which café. And where it is.’
She hadn’t found one yet. She gazed around, searching for inspiration. ‘Tortoni’s?’
‘Don’t move a step. I’m coming for you!’ Diego roared, nearly shattering her eardrum.
‘See you in the café—’ Maxie stared at the silent receiver in her hand. Diego hadn’t even given her a chance to cut the line. But as she prepared to cross the road it occurred to her that it was rather nice to have someone to care about what she did. She hadn’t had that since her mother had died. She could look after herself, of course, having done so for most of her life, but that didn’t stop Diego’s protective streak being a nice thing about him. But he was only concerned to hear she had strayed from the safety of the main shopping area, Maxie reasoned as she stared up at the façade of what appeared to be a popular café. Diego would feel that same sense of responsibility for all his employees. She only had to think about Maria and Adriana to know that.
As the door of the café opened she was greeted by a gust of warm air and the pungent smell of coffee. The noisy interior was full of men hunched over coffee cups as if the inky brew was the elixir of life, and families noisily sharing platters of food with all age groups represented, their happy faces reminding Maxie of so many mixed bouquets as they nodded their heads in time to the music.
And what music! The insistent throb of tango instantly invaded her veins. Couples were dancing between the tables, their gazes fixed on each other as they moved in a way she had never imagined could be so earthy and yet so sophisticated. She could hardly bear to blink in case she missed anything as the waitress showed her to a table.
Maxie was so enthralled by the dancing she allowed her coffee to go cold, and only snapped to at the sound of screeching brakes. This was swiftly followed by the slam of a car door, and she wasn’t the only one staring at the entrance as Diego stormed in. Her breath caught in her throat as his glance swept the room.
‘Maxie,’ he growled, heading straight for her.
Diego nodded to a waiter, who quickly pulled out a chair.
‘Hello, Diego.’ Maxie tried to remain cool as her heart thundered nineteen to the dozen. How could anyone look so gorgeous? How could anyone carry such an air of command? It was enough to transfix every man and woman in the place, she noticed—but then Diego wasn’t just a famous polo player, he was a frighteningly charismatic man, whom she guessed every woman wanted to go to bed with, and every man longed to call friend.
But he was hers.
Well, sort of, Maxie reasoned, trying not to give way to the waves of longing washing over her. She stared down in bewilderment at the crumbly little pastries on the plate in front of her, which the waiter had just put down without her ordering them.
‘Eat,’ Diego instructed. ‘I’ll watch your mouth.’
Trying to read Diego’s thoughts was always a nonstarter.
Was he teasing her, or was that a threat?
‘Eat,’ he repeated while she was still trying to work this out. And with that he turned away as if she was of no further interest to him.
‘Excuse me, señorita?’
She glanced up to find one of the men who had been dancing the tango leaning over the table, trying to attract her attention. ‘Yes?’
‘You are not dancing?’
‘No,’ she agreed, wiping her mouth on her napkin.
‘I would like to dance with you.’
Diego swung round so fast the table rocked. ‘The señorita is with me,’ he barked.
‘Pardon, señor,’ the man said with a bow, giving way.
Diego was interested now. He was so interested she couldn’t say, ‘I was going to refuse …’ fast enough before he moved his chair back and stood up.
‘You should have told me you wanted to dance, Maxie.’
‘But I don’t. In fact, I can’t dance,’ she explained.
‘Why not?’ Diego frowned.
Conscious that everyone in the café was staring at them now, she reduced her voice to an urgent whisper. ‘I’m hardly dressed for it.’
Resting one strong hand on his tight hips, Diego scanned the room. All the couples dancing were dressed in everyday clothes, she noticed.
‘Are you all out of excuses?’ he demanded.
Not quite. ‘I have two left feet.’
‘Lucky for you I have one of each.’
Staring at Diego’s outstretched hand, she pulled back in her chair. ‘Seriously—I can’t dance.’
‘But I can.’
Which was how she found herself in the arms of a man she couldn’t even look at without remembering how his kisses felt, or wondering what else he might be expert in.
‘I find dancing is much improved if you move your feet,’ he said, drawing her close. ‘Just a suggestion, Maxie.’
‘Of course.’
She would dance one dance with Diego and then sit down. There were so many people dancing between the tables that with any luck he would give up and she could start breathing evenly again. But somehow the dancers managed to avoid each other, and Diego was more intuitive than most. Of course he was, Maxie reasoned, fighting her body’s best attempt to melt against him. Diego was an international sportsman whose life revolved around second-guessing the competition. Now, if she could just concentrate instead of being distracted by erotic images bombarding her brain she might even be able to move her feet in time to the music …
When the dance ended she was reluctant to leave Diego’s embrace. All the more reason to pull herself together, she concluded, heading back to the table. ‘This has been excellent research,’ she informed him as he sat down. ‘I think we should have dancing at the charity event.’
‘Really?’ Diego murmured. ‘What an original idea. Somehow I expected better of you, Maxie.’ After a moment, he added, ‘So, what did you buy to wear tonight?’
‘I bought a dress in the market.’
He seemed surprised.
‘It was pretty and I liked it. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I’m just surprised you didn’t find anything in the shops where I dropped you off.’
She had no intention of reliving how embarrassing her experience in the upscale part of town had been.
‘Maxie?’ Diego prompted.
‘If you must know, I wasn’t joking when I told you they wouldn’t serve me.’
‘Honestly?’ Diego sat back. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Only because it would never happen to you.’
He frowned. ‘But why wouldn’t they serve you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Maxie admitted. ‘I can’t think of anything other than the way I’m dressed.’
‘Or maybe it’s the slogan on your T-shirt?’ Diego suggested, his dark eyes glittering. ‘“Drama Queen”? That’s hardly you, is it, Maxie?’
‘It’s supposed to be ironic.’ She lasted a moment and then began to laugh.
Diego wasn’t smiling. ‘The people in those shops need a wake-up call,’ he said, standing up.
‘Where are you going now?’
‘To put a few people straight.’
‘There are worse things in life than assistants who don’t want to assist.’
‘They are being paid to help customers find what they are looking for,’ Diego argued, ‘Even if that customer is a drama queen,’ he added dryly. ‘Come on,’ he insisted, holding out his hand. ‘I’m taking you shopping.’
Diego’s approach to shopping was masculine and methodical, and while the usually meticulous Maxie would accept she was better known for her bemused dawdle when it came to choosing clothes, she was content to let Diego take the lead on this occasion. He was stopped every five minutes and asked for his autograph, which he always gave with a smile, good grace and a few kind words, and when they entered one of the high-class stores where Maxie had been ignored, far from seeing a shortage of assistants, they were mobbed.
‘Just have everything sent over,’ Diego stated on each occasion. ‘My friend needs time to make her selection.’
Maxie’s eyes widened. She did? Everything Diego had picked out looked fabulous to her, and there were mountains of clothes awaiting her perusal. He didn’t even need to pay, because everyone knew him and said she could have the clothes on sale or return.
‘The items the señorita has selected will be despatched immediately by special courier,’ they were assured in every shop.
And the clothes just kept on coming—shoes, bags, the most outrageous lingerie—and all of it would be waiting for them when they returned to the apartment.
‘How can they be back before we are?’ Maxie reasoned out loud when she remembered the speed at which Diego drove.
‘If we beat them back we won’t buy,’ he said, and with such charm that the shop assistants were still swooning when they walked out of the shop.
‘So that’s how it’s done,’ Maxie remarked when they were back in the Ferrari. ‘I should have taken you shopping with me in the first place.’
‘I’m always available.’
Really? Somehow she doubted that. Maxie exhaled shakily as Diego removed the sunglasses from the top of his head and settled them in place. How far had she strayed from her businesslike brief now? ‘You must tell me how much I owe you.’
‘Nothing as yet.’
‘But I have to pay my debts.’
‘And I wouldn’t have it any other way, señorita,’ Diego assured her with a grin.
As he released the brake and eased into the evening traffic he couldn’t remember enjoying himself so much for a long time. He couldn’t bear injustice. Especially where Maxie was concerned, Diego realised, resting his chin on his arm when they got snarled up in traffic. He flexed his leg, which now felt better than ever. Who deserved spoiling more than Maxie? If it hadn’t been for that Parrish shadow hanging over them …
‘Problem?’ she said when he frowned.
He relaxed back in his seat. ‘Traffic.’
He was a simple man. All he asked was to be match-fit and for people to be honest with him. Trust was paramount to him. After the investment disaster trust mattered to him even more. Thinking back to the trust Nacho had placed in him, he realised he only associated with people he could rely on these days.
And Maxie?
He grimaced as he shifted position. Could he trust her? Who was Maxie Parrish? Who did he know who didn’t talk about their family? What was she hiding? Maxie’s explanation that he’d grown up in a crowd didn’t wash. Surely everyone was proud of their family, even if they had one parent and no siblings. What was the difference? Family was family.
‘You are preoccupied,’ she remarked.
They had stopped in more traffic, which had given the old guilt plenty of time to wash over him. The more he enjoyed himself with Maxie, the more he remembered the friend who was dead—the friend who should be out with a girl now, having fun. The f
riend who should be laughing and loving instead of rotting in his grave—a grave Diego had helped to put him in. Peter Parrish had also played a part in it. No wonder he was preoccupied.
They drew to a halt outside his apartment, where men were already unloading their shopping parcels from a van.
‘The driver must have broken every speed restriction in the book,’ Maxie commented as they watched the stack of boxes wobbling their way to the entrance.
Lighten up, he told himself fiercely, realising he was grinding his jaw. ‘Do you want me to report them for speeding?’
She laughed. When they had first met Maxie hadn’t smiled, and neither had he. Her head had seemed to be occupied solely by business, while he had shut himself away like a dangerous animal. They’d both changed quite a lot since then. Wasn’t this better?
‘What?’ she said.
He was staring at her, Diego realised. He wasn’t about to tell Maxie where his thoughts had been. Whatever had happened in the past, maybe it was time to live a little. He gave an easy shrug. ‘I was just thinking I’m looking forward to tonight.’
‘Me too,’ she said lightly.
But he couldn’t remember ever wanting to spend an evening with a woman quite so much.
She had only opened a fraction of the packages stacked neatly in the dressing room of her suite. It looked as if Christmas and her birthday had come together times ten. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said later, when they were sipping coffee in Diego’s office where she had made a start on her work.
‘Tell me,’ he prompted.
The coffee cup hovering a hair’s breadth from Diego’s sexy lips held her up for a moment. ‘We tell the stores we’ve visited today about your charity and choose a few of the things from the selection of clothes delivered we think might sell well. It’s such a high-profile charity, and with the Acosta name attached …’
‘It would be excellent publicity for all involved? I hope you’re right.’
‘I am,’ Maxie said confidently.
The Argentinian's Solace Page 10