By Margaret Mayo
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Additional info for At the Spaniard's Convenience (Modern Romance)
His arms were once more folded over his hard-muscled chest, feet apart, eyes resolutely on hers. ‘It sounded like sour grapes to me. Perhaps you’re regretting walking out on me. ’ Kirstie shook her head so wildly that her hair swung over her face. She eyed him through the dark curtain. This conversation was getting them nowhere. She really ought to be unpacking their cases and checking to make sure that Becky was OK. But somehow Lucio had moved between her and the doorway and she instinctively knew that he would not let her go.
There was a long silence before he answered and Kirstie wondered if she had hit a raw nerve. ’ he demanded, pure ice in his eyes. ‘Is there a man in your life? No, I thought not. Seems we’re two of a kind, Kirstie. ’ Kirstie stiffened. ‘I was not condemning. ’ His arms were once more folded over his hard-muscled chest, feet apart, eyes resolutely on hers. ‘It sounded like sour grapes to me. Perhaps you’re regretting walking out on me. ’ Kirstie shook her head so wildly that her hair swung over her face.
The third degree? Lucio knows me. ’ Because there was definitely no way she could do this twice. It had taken enough courage this first time. ’ Oh, goodness, the girl had put her through without saying who she was. ’ Horrifyingly her voice came out in a husky whisper. ’ In contrast his voice was a rasp of impatience. A voice she remembered well. It was deep and gritty with a habit of vibrating along nerves and sinews, sending a tremor through every female who listened to it. He’d had an air of authority, even as a young man of nineteen, but he’d honed his skills and it sat very well on his shoulders now, terrorising, she imagined, all who came into contact with him.
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