She stared at him. ‘Isn’t Pablo going to pick us up?’
A smile curved across his mouth. ‘Sure—if you want to wait until he returns from visiting his mother on the coast.’
With that, he turned and began walking. She stared at his retreating figure and then she groaned softly, grabbed her suitcase, and staggered after him.
She kept him in sight for the next few minutes, but after a bit it was impossible to manage. It was easier to walk with her head down, concentrating her energy on putting one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right, left—’
‘You damned little fool!’
She looked up, startled, as Conor seemed to materialise out of the air. He snatched the suitcase from her, grasped her by the elbow, and hustled her along beside him.
‘You’ll do anything to infuriate me, won’t you?’
‘Infuriate you?’ Arden gaped at him as she struggled to match his increasingly swift pace. ‘Are you crazy? What does me carrying my suitcase have to do with you?’
‘Everything,’ he snarled.
‘I don’t see how—’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No. No, I—’
‘You’re on your way to El Corazon, not at my invitation but because you somehow convinced my uncle to will it to you.’
‘I did nothing of the sort! And I resent you saying—’
‘I don’t want you there. I don’t even want you on the same planet as I am!’
Arden smiled sweetly. ‘Is Linda as eager for my company as you are?’
‘Linda took her grief to Miami after the funeral,’ Conor said, his words laced with sarcasm.
‘You mean, you and I will be alone?’ she said, her smile fading.
Conor shot her a furious glare. ‘It’s one hell of a romantic thought, isn’t it? You and I, your miserable luggage, driving off into the sunset in my car—’
‘You mean, my car,’ she said coldly.
He looked at her again. ‘What?’
‘The Cadillac belongs to El Corazon. That makes it mine.’ She tried to wrench her arm free of his grasp, but it was impossible. ‘And I did not ask you to carry my suitcase. I didn’t ask you to do anything! I wouldn’t, not if you—what are you doing?’ she demanded as he all but threw her against the side of a dusty, disreputable looking vehicle.
‘Unlocking the door to my Bronco,’ he said through his teeth, ‘preparatory to tossing either you or your luggage into the back seat—depending on whether or not I can get control of my temper in the next five seconds.’
Arden stared foolishly at the car. ‘But—this isn’t the Cadillac,’ she said.
‘A brilliant deduction.’
‘It’s an old Jeep!’
‘It’s a Bronco.’
‘I don’t care if it’s a rowboat! I’m not getting into that thing with you.’
‘Ah, my apologies, señorita.’ Conor made a sweeping, dramatic bow. ‘I know my humble vehicle’s not up to your standards.’
No, it certainly wasn’t. The Cadillac had offered the protection of wide seats and space, but this thing—this Bronco—would put her cheek by jowl next to Conor; she could just imagine how it would racket around the curving dirt road that led the last few miles to the finca, how she would be forced to lean in against him as they drove...