breeze and splashing along she walked quite a way down the beach and back again, shoals of tiny fish darting around her ankles, lost in her own thoughts… those photos … Ricardo Schiapa was drop-dead gorgeous. The square jaw, the Roman nose and the way his black hair covered that perfect head in little licks of curl. And that smile! Those Hollywood teeth!
By comparison Mr Big looked very Grown-Up. Mature and formidable, that was her Mr Big.
Past experience had put Ellie off extremely good-looking men, especially if they were medics. Anyway, Viv was just being kind and flattering her: Rico Schiapa was so way out of her league. As beautiful and intelligent as his mother - and no doubt with that same charm and warmth; perfect for heading up a luxury hotel and schmoozing rich and famous clients. It would be interesting to meet him in the flesh for he clearly was no playboy. But Ellie just knew she would not be falling at his manicured feet.
The time! What was the time! Wrestling her mobile phone from the pocket of her sprayed-on pink cotton capris, Ellie was in for a shock. Almost a quarter to three! Those iceblocks would melt if she didn’t get a move on. The sardines would be cooking in their own juices and then she really would poison the two of them…
Chapter Six
A s soon as he arrived back at the Casa, Rafe threw off his working clothes, showered, changed into shorts and tee shirt and went in search of Ellie. Driving back from the centre, he had been preoccupied with thoughts of her, scarcely aware of the countryside he was driving through on the descent from the lovely Monchique hills. It was deeply regrettable that a man who had been the cause of such tragedy should turn out to be the son of a respected actress like Vivienne Carr. A deep frown etched itself between Rafe’s black eyebrows. The guy didn’t have an English surname. Schiapa. Where did that come from?
Although Rafe had never clapped eyes on Ricardo, he’d got a very strong reason for not wanting Ellie getting involved with the man. She seemed so star-struck by the actress that he feared sweet Ellie would be only too ready to fall for the woman’s son. Another name in the guy’s little black book; another notch in his belt. Rafe glowered into the dazzling sunlight. What if she was with him right now …!
It was with some relief that he saw the little blue Seat parked in its usual place in the shade, the barbecue coals glowing nicely on the barbecue. Sardines again. Dear Ellie, he had asked for sardines and she was trying so hard to please. There was salad in the fridge too, all ready for supper. She couldn’t be far away.
‘Have you seen Ellie?’ he asked Giovana who was doing the evening watering. ‘El-lie,’ repeated Rafe, indicating with his hand somewhere just above waist-level as if Ellie was knee-high to a grasshopper. ‘ Onde Ellie?’
‘El-lie,’ chuckled Giovana, whipping the snaking hosepipe around his ankles as she moved on to water the next lemon tree. Rafe leapt smartly out of her way. ‘Si si!’ Giovana pointed in the direction of the distant pasture where her goats grazed. ‘Pretty Ellie. Bonita !’
‘Yes yes,’ muttered Rafe grimly, ‘I don’t need reminding, thank you very much.’ Giovana screwed up her face to indicate incomprehension. ‘ Qual? ’
‘Oh nothing,’ said Rafe, at which she flapped a hand as if to say go find Ellie and let me get on with my work.
No, he definitely didn’t want Ellie getting entangled with the likes of Ricardo. Not that Ellie was a naïve little innocent. No indeed. Not from what he knew about Ellie Robey … Quite the little actress when she wanted to be! Carrying his glass of chilled lemonade, Rafe climbed the outside staircase leading to the bedroom balconies. From a height, he examined the horizon. No sign of Ellie. He drained the glass to the last drop and left it on the balustrade, his right hand exploring his newly-cropped head as he stared out over the garden.
By comparison Mr Big looked very Grown-Up. Mature and formidable, that was her Mr Big.
Past experience had put Ellie off extremely good-looking men, especially if they were medics. Anyway, Viv was just being kind and flattering her: Rico Schiapa was so way out of her league. As beautiful and intelligent as his mother - and no doubt with that same charm and warmth; perfect for heading up a luxury hotel and schmoozing rich and famous clients. It would be interesting to meet him in the flesh for he clearly was no playboy. But Ellie just knew she would not be falling at his manicured feet.
The time! What was the time! Wrestling her mobile phone from the pocket of her sprayed-on pink cotton capris, Ellie was in for a shock. Almost a quarter to three! Those iceblocks would melt if she didn’t get a move on. The sardines would be cooking in their own juices and then she really would poison the two of them…
Chapter Six
A s soon as he arrived back at the Casa, Rafe threw off his working clothes, showered, changed into shorts and tee shirt and went in search of Ellie. Driving back from the centre, he had been preoccupied with thoughts of her, scarcely aware of the countryside he was driving through on the descent from the lovely Monchique hills. It was deeply regrettable that a man who had been the cause of such tragedy should turn out to be the son of a respected actress like Vivienne Carr. A deep frown etched itself between Rafe’s black eyebrows. The guy didn’t have an English surname. Schiapa. Where did that come from?
Although Rafe had never clapped eyes on Ricardo, he’d got a very strong reason for not wanting Ellie getting involved with the man. She seemed so star-struck by the actress that he feared sweet Ellie would be only too ready to fall for the woman’s son. Another name in the guy’s little black book; another notch in his belt. Rafe glowered into the dazzling sunlight. What if she was with him right now …!
It was with some relief that he saw the little blue Seat parked in its usual place in the shade, the barbecue coals glowing nicely on the barbecue. Sardines again. Dear Ellie, he had asked for sardines and she was trying so hard to please. There was salad in the fridge too, all ready for supper. She couldn’t be far away.
‘Have you seen Ellie?’ he asked Giovana who was doing the evening watering. ‘El-lie,’ repeated Rafe, indicating with his hand somewhere just above waist-level as if Ellie was knee-high to a grasshopper. ‘ Onde Ellie?’
‘El-lie,’ chuckled Giovana, whipping the snaking hosepipe around his ankles as she moved on to water the next lemon tree. Rafe leapt smartly out of her way. ‘Si si!’ Giovana pointed in the direction of the distant pasture where her goats grazed. ‘Pretty Ellie. Bonita !’
‘Yes yes,’ muttered Rafe grimly, ‘I don’t need reminding, thank you very much.’ Giovana screwed up her face to indicate incomprehension. ‘ Qual? ’
‘Oh nothing,’ said Rafe, at which she flapped a hand as if to say go find Ellie and let me get on with my work.
No, he definitely didn’t want Ellie getting entangled with the likes of Ricardo. Not that Ellie was a naïve little innocent. No indeed. Not from what he knew about Ellie Robey … Quite the little actress when she wanted to be! Carrying his glass of chilled lemonade, Rafe climbed the outside staircase leading to the bedroom balconies. From a height, he examined the horizon. No sign of Ellie. He drained the glass to the last drop and left it on the balustrade, his right hand exploring his newly-cropped head as he stared out over the garden.
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