Fortune in the Stars (4 page)

She closed her eyes, her features tightening with misery.
Which was why his unfaithfulness hadn't altogether surprised her, she
reluctantly admitted—the first time she had done so. It was
that it was her flatmate with whom he had become involved that hurt so
deeply, she now also had to admit.

Perhaps had Rupert tried plying her with drink to loosen
her inhibitions things might have turned out differently.

She took several sips from the cup before accepting the
niggling thought now chasing through her mind, and once she had
accepted it she realised that she could safely bet every penny she
possessed that no amount of booze would ever have resulted in her
responding to Rupert as she had to a complete stranger last night.

Yet it was Rupert she loved, she reminded herself
miserably, finishing her coffee in one gulp. And Rupert who had
badgered her to marry him despite the unresolved question of her lack
of appreciable physical response to him.

With a sigh she returned the cup to the tray and only then
noticed the large sheet of paper, folded several times, behind the
coffee-pot. She removed it and opened it out before her on the bed,
smiling involuntarily to see it was the plans of the villa, then
laughing aloud at the cryptic note scrawled across the top of the sheet
in a firm masculine hand.

'Just in case you get lost—strategic areas
marked by asterisks.' The signature, a bold 'D', was followed by the
postscript, 'How's the head?'

Her initial amusement suddenly faltering, Penny gave a
soft groan of frustration as she felt the colour rush to her cheeks;
deep down she had been banking on his having sufficient tact not to
refer to her drunken behaviour of the previous night.

And to think that she had actually contemplated a little
light flirtation with this man, she reflected uncomfortably as she
dressed after her quick shower…had actually regarded it as a
possible means of boosting her deflated ego!

She dawdled before the mirror, running a comb through the
shining thickness of her hair and dithering about whether to put it up
or not. She decided to leave it as it was, her attention now flitting
to the faded blue of the shirt-dress, belted neatly at her trim waist.
She was hardly a picture of sophistication, she mused with
dissatisfaction, but then she had come here expecting to laze around
doing nothing and had packed accordingly. She froze, suddenly acutely
conscious of her train of thought. Even dolled up to the nines, it
would take a lot more than she had to hold the attention of a
self-confessed playboy like Dominic Raphael for more than a few brief
moments…and her ego had already suffered more than enough
damage as it was!

Scowling, and futilely wishing she had never listened to
Lexy in the first place, she grabbed the plans and studied them, a
smile once again creeping of its own volition to her lips as she found
her boldly asterisked room and the trail of arrows leading from there
to the terrace.

'You found it,' Dominic observed, glancing up from
something he was writing when she eventually joined him.

'Yes—thanks for the plans,' she replied,
appalled by the fact that her stomach had lurched into a series of
disruptive somersaults the instant she had spotted him.

There was definitely something wrong with her, she decided
apprehensively, taking a seat while he placed what he had been writing
on a spare chair.

'Just some toast will be fine, thanks…
Gracias
,'
she said in response to the maid appearing at her side and asking what
she would like.

'Do you speak Spanish?' enquired Dominic.

She shook her head. 'That was virtually a third of my
entire vocabulary.' While she spoke she was attempting to take calm
stock of the man before her, and her decidedly uncalm reaction to him.
Yes, he
was
one of the most physically attractive
men she had ever clapped eyes on, but that explained
nothing—she just wasn't the type given to swooning over men,
no matter what their looks.

'Coffee?' he enquired.

'Thank you.' Perhaps her recent ghastly experiences had
affected her far more severely than she was aware…

'I'll give you a peseta for them.'

'I beg your pardon?' she exclaimed, starting slightly.

'I offered you a peseta for them—those deeply
engrossing thoughts of yours,' he explained with a relaxed smile.

'Sorry,' she muttered, and immediately attempted to mask
her paralysing embarrassment by offering unnecessarily profuse thanks
to the maid arriving with a mound of toast. 'I seem to be having
difficulty adjusting to being here—it's probably because I
came very much on the spur of the moment.'

'Probably. I take it you don't work,' he stated.

She glanced across at him, her look strained and uncertain.

'Not many jobs allow people to take off on
spur-of-the-moment holidays,' he explained, a slight edge to his tone.

'Oh, I see,' exclaimed Penny, praying she would manage to
snap out of this ridiculous state she was in before making an utter
fool of herself. 'No… I don't work.' Not exactly the truth,
but at least it would spare her from tortuous explanation.

'Ah—a playgirl,' he murmured, the slight
narrowing of his eyes giving Penny the distinct impression she was
being comprehensively assessed.

'No, I—I do quite a bit of charity work.' She
hastily began buttering herself a slice of toast in an attempt to mask
her own astonishment at the ease with which she had come out with that
ridiculous lie—and also to dispel the sound of Lexy's
incredulous laughter ringing loudly in her ears.

'What sort of charity work?' he asked, again the faintest
of edges to his tone.

'Oh—this and that,' muttered Penny vaguely, and
in her distracted annoyance with herself for having started all this,
she accidently crammed almost half a slice of toast into her mouth and
choked.

'Well, perhaps there will be an opportunity for you to
continue your good work here. I need a female brain to
pick—I'd hoped it would be Lexy's, but I'm sure yours will do
just as well,' he stated, watching, with no offer of assistance, as she
struggled for breath.

'I'll gladly help, if I can,' croaked Penny rashly,
gulping down a full glass of orange juice for relief.

'It's concerning the hotel.' He paused, frowning. 'Lexy
did happen to mention we own an hotel here, didn't she?'

Penny shook her head, her lungs recovered, but noting
fatalistically that her feelings of dazed bewilderment were beginning
to take on a depressingly settled permanency.

'Hell, she'd hardly have been breaking any of her
self-imposed taboos mentioning that,' he muttered impatiently, as
though to himself. 'The fact is, we do own an hotel
here—unfortunately now kitsch beyond belief—and
about which I intend doing something.' He broke off, glancing down at
his watch. 'I'm afraid I'll have to be off—I'm picking my
secretary up from the airport just after ten, and we'll be going
straight to the hotel.' He rose, picking up his coffee-cup and draining
it. 'Juana will show you where everything is in the kitchen; see you
later.'

She watched as he strode off, her face depicting forlorn
bewilderment. He turned, grinning as he caught her look.

'My birthday cake—you offered to bake me one
last night, remember? Or was that the wine talking?'

Much more of this and she would be a complete nervous
wreck, she thought frustratedly, slumping back against her chair while
his parting, softly mocking laughter lingered on in her ears.

Half the time she hadn't the faintest idea what he was
talking about, she fumed; and he had a habit of putting off explaining
himself just long enough for her to be convinced he was insane. And he
had sat there without so much as a flicker of concern while she could
have been choking to death for all he cared. As for his impatience with
Lexy's penchant for secrecy—it was laughable; he was scarcely
any more forthcoming than she was. And another thing; since when did a
playboy have a secretary?

She leaned back, closing her eyes as the gentle warmth of
the sun caressed her face. With a bit of luck he wouldn't be staying
long and she would be able to have a few days of peace on her own
before Lexy arrived.

'The telephone for you,
se
n
orita
,'
announced the maid, approaching her and carrying a portable phone.

'Penny, it's Lexy—'

'Lexy, boy, do I have a bone to—'

'Penny, is Dominic there?'

'No—he's gone to Palma to—'

'But he
has
arrived!' exclaimed Lexy.

'Yes. And today's his—'

'His birthday, yes. Listen, Penny, you haven't mentioned
Peter Langton's name to him, have you?'

'No. Lexy—'

'Thank heavens for that!'

'Lexy, is there any likelihood of my ever being allowed to
finish a sentence in this conversation?' demanded Penny.

'Sorry, Penny, It's just that… Penny, you
definitely haven't mentioned Peter Langton's name to him?'

'Lexy! Why all this panic?' asked Penny exasperatedly.
'Who exactly is this Peter Langton, anyway?'

'No one terribly important,' replied Lexy, her tone
striving unsuccessfully for dismissiveness. 'It's just that,
well… Dominic and he don't get on too well—in
fact, you could say Dominic loathes him… It'll cause the
most awful rumpus if you so much as mention his name.'

'I take it you don't share Dominic's views on him,'
chuckled Penny, intrigued to hear her usually eloquent friend for once
struggling for words.

'I'll explain when I see you—I'll be with you a
week tomorrow,' said Lexy, plainly hedging.

Penny frowned in disbelief. Though Lexy maintained an
implacable silence where her family was concerned, she tended to
discuss the men in her life with a sometimes startling
candour… This Peter Langton was obviously
very
special!

'So tell me, Penny, how are you getting on with my
delectable brother?'

'You've changed your tune, haven't you?' exclaimed Penny.
'I thought your beloved brother was the one man you felt obliged to
protect all women from. You were hopping mad over the way he
treated—'

'Yes, I know,' butted in Lexy, and immediately apologised
abjectly for having done so. 'But that was a few years ago and anyway,
you're not likely to disgrace yourself by falling for him. So tell me,
how are the two of you getting on?'

'Frankly, I find him completely baffling—worse
even than you at your very worst, if that's possible.'

Lexy gave a chuckle of delight. 'I know,' she sympathised.
'Librans have a knack of driving you to distraction at times, but
Dominic has all the charm and personality you could ever hope to find
in one. Mind you, he has a temper that more than balances all that,
when he loses it—which isn't often—'

'Lexy, spare me the astrological analysis,' groaned Penny.
'How did you discover he was here, anyway?'

'I rang his Paris office to wish him happy
birthday— that's how.'

'His office?' Penny exclaimed. 'And he's just gone to
Palma to pick up his secretary; I thought he was supposed to be a
dedicated playboy… Or is this apparent dichotomy something
peculiar to all Librans?'

'Penelope, my love, you're beginning to sound inordinately
interested in my big, bad, beautiful brother,' teased Lexy. 'I think
I'll have to do a bit of swotting up on Leos and Librans…'

'Lexy, are you still there?' asked Penny, as the line
suddenly went silent.

'Sorry, Penny,' came Lexy's oddly strained voice. 'I have
to go. Wish Dominic a happy birthday from me— see you next
week.'

'Lexy, could you…?' She broke off as she heard
the phone click. Lexy had hung up.

Dusk had fallen by the time Dominic returned, and Penny's
slowly acquired feeling of well-being remained intact when her stomach
mercifully showed no inclination to repeat its acrobatics of the
morning at this, her second sight of him.

She had spent a delightfully lazy day, familiarising
herself with her beautiful surroundings, swimming, and being plied on
and off with delicious titbits by the cheerfully motherly Juana.

'Sorry to have left you on your own for so long,'
apologised Dominic, joining her by the softly splashing fountain in one
of the smaller courtyards. 'Would you like a drink?'

'Oh, I'd love—' She broke off, colouring
furiously.

'No, thanks.'

'Forget about last night,' he grinned. 'You have to
remember you were drinking after a long day's journey and on top of an
empty stomach—and I very much doubt if it's empty today, if I
know Juana.'

Penny smiled. 'I get the impression she thinks I need
fattening up; she really is a fantastic cook.'

'You're speaking to one of her most ardent fans,' he
laughed. 'So—how about a glass of Grandpa's vintage
champagne?'

'Well…as it's your birthday,' she conceded with
a grin.

'That reminds me—where's my cake?'

'If sir would care to follow me,' she murmured, 'I'll lead
him to it.'

'You didn't actually bake me one, did you?' he demanded
through laughter as she led him towards the dining-room.

'Actually, it's a joint effort,' she admitted, wondering
if he would think her unspeakably childish if she were to ask him to
close his eyes before entering the room—and deciding he
would. 'Juana baked it and I iced it… Unfortunately we could
only come up with one candle.'

'That's a relief,' he replied. 'I doubt if I'd have the
puff to blow out thirty-one in a single blow… Penny, it's a
work of art!' he enthused as she led him to the table.

'Do you really think so?' she asked, secretly flattered by
his reaction. 'I know it looks a bit like snow on a Christmas cake, but
I had to do that because the icing refused to go on smoothly.'

'I love it,' he declared uninhibitedly. 'I'll nip off and
get the bubbly—then we can sample it.'