‘What now?’ she asked curiously.
‘Our transport to San Estéban, courtesy of your cousin, Leandros,’ Ethan sardonically supplied. ‘Having been so instrumental in getting us both here, I thought it was time he helped make this final part a bit easier.’
Easier, truly said it. Their two-hour drive south was cut by two-thirds. As they skipped over the top of a lush green headland, Ethan said, ‘San Estéban.’
Glancing out of the window, Eve felt her heart stop beating in surprise. ‘Oh,’ she said, gasping in astonishment, unsure what it was that she had been expecting, but knew that it certainly wasn’t this.
Her gaze took in the modern example of a Moorish castle guarding the hill top, then it flicked down the hill to a beautiful deep-water harbour with its mosaic-paved promenade that linked it to the pretty white-washed town. In the quest to create something magical, that same Moorish style repeated itself in a clever blend of modern with ancient. Nothing clashed—nothing dared. It was no wonder that her grandfather had been so eager to have Hayes-Frayne apply their magic touch to his project, she realised. From up here she could see the same sense of vision that must have inspired her grandfather when Leandros had suggested he come out here and take a look for himself.
Turning her face she looked into Ethan’s grey eyes and saw a different man looking steadily back at her. The artist—the man with the vision that inspired others; the sensitive romantic who perhaps could fall in love with the unattainable, and maybe even go so far as to love because that person was out of his reach. It was a well-known fact that artists liked to suffer; it was a natural part of their persona to keep the creative juices flowing by desiring what could never be.
Was that part of her attraction? Eve then found herself wondering curiously. With her grandfather openly stating that Ethan was not what he wanted for his only grandchild, had Theron unwittingly lifted her to the same desirable heights as the very married Leona Al-Qadim?
His eyes were certainly desiring her, she noted, but, for the first time, she didn’t like what she could see. Don’t raise me up onto a pedestal, she wanted to warn him, because she had no intention of remaining there, safely out of reach.
The helicopter dropped them onto a helipad custom-built to service the Moorish castle which, she realised, was really a hotel set in exquisite grounds. A car was waiting to transport them along the hill top that surrounded the bay where exclusive villas lay hidden behind screens of mature shrubs and trees. Eventually they pulled in through wide arched gates into a mosaic courtyard belonging to one of those villas.
Ethan unlocked the front door while the driver of their car collected their luggage and stacked it neatly by the door. Ethan knew the man; they’d chatted in Spanish throughout the short journey and continued chatting until the driver got back into his car and drove way.
Almost instantly silence tumbled down around them as it had done once before when they’d found themselves suddenly on their own like this.
‘Shall we go in?’ Ethan cut through it with his light invitation.
‘Yes.’ Eve made an effort to smile and didn’t quite manage it as she walked into the villa while he brought the luggage inside then closed the door behind him.
Fresh tension erupted. Eve didn’t quite know what to do next and Ethan didn’t seem too sure himself, so they both started speaking at the same time.
‘Is this one of your own designs?’ she asked him.
‘Would you like to freshen up first or—? No.’ He answered her question.
‘Yes, please.’ She answered his.
He sighed, ran a hand round the back of his neck and looked suddenly bone-weary. Eve chewed nervously on her bottom lip and wished herself back in the Caribbean lying on a beach.
‘Guest bedroom’s this way…’ Picking up her luggage he began leading the way over pale blue marble beneath arched ceilings painted the colour of pale sand. As they walked, they passed by several wide archways that appeared to lead to the main living space. But Eve was way beyond being curious enough to show any interest in what those rooms held. All she wanted was to be on her own for a while, to take stock, maybe even crash out on the large bed she’d caught sight of in the room Ethan was leading her into.
‘Bathroom through that door,’ he said as he placed her luggage on the top of a cedarwood ottoman. ‘You can reach the terrace through there…’ He pointed to the silk-draped full-length windows. ‘Make yourself at home…’ He turned toward the door, had seconds thoughts, and turned back again. ‘I’ll be working out on the terrace if you want me. Other than that…take your time…’
Lightly said, aimed to make her feel comfortable with whatever she wanted to do, he did not take into account that he hadn’t once allowed his eyes to make contact with her eyes since they’d entered the villa.
Which meant that he was feeling as uncomfortable with this new situation as she was. ‘Right. Fine,’ she said.
He left her then; like a bat out of hell he got out of that room and made sure he shut the door behind him as he went. Eve wilted, had a horrible feeling that he was standing on the other side of that door doing exactly the same thing, and really, really wished she hadn’t come.
Ethan was beginning to wonder if she’d made a run for it when, over an hour later, Eve still hadn’t put in an appearance. At first he’d been glad of the respite, had taken a shower,
