She had long ago forgiven herself for her girlish crush. She just wished that her disobedient eyes could stop drinking him in the way they were doing right now.
His features were chiselled to perfection, but his bronzed colouring and raven-dark hair, which he always kept slightly too long, rescued him from being just another good-looking guy.
‘I am here to talk to you about your mother,’ Georgina said into the lengthening silence. ‘But could I just unwind for a bit? I’m exhausted.’
‘It’s seven o’clock. Have you eaten?’
‘I had some sandwiches on the train.’
‘I’ll take you out to dinner.’
‘I doubt I’m dressed for the sort of restaurants you’re likely to patronise,’ Georgina said wryly.
‘How would you know what sort of restaurants I’d be likely to patronise?’ he asked.
But he was smiling crookedly at her, reminding her that beneath their obvious, glaring and insurmountable differences, there were times when they were eerily tuned in to one another. Longevity and history, she presumed.
‘Because I’m smart like that.’ She was beginning to feel overheated. ‘Thank you. It’s very nice of you. But...er...no, thank you. Why don’t you show me round your lovely house? I’d far rather that.’
The plan Georgina had sketched out had been a hurried one—a response to circumstances, formulated on impulse and put on the table before she’d had time to think through the details and, more to the point, the glaring, inescapable downsides. By the time she’d sat back and thought about it, it had been too late to take it all back.
Rose Silva believed that her son was finally on the verge of settling down, if not with the girl of his dreams, then certainly the girl of hers. She adored Georgina.
She finally had something to live for. She would have a daughter-in-law she loved. Her son would be settled, as he should be, with no more of his silly cavorting with women who weren’t suited to him at all. There would be grandchildren. All would be right in the world.
In the space of five minutes, Georgie’s suggestion of a relationship with Matias had turned into a full-blown when-shall-I-start-looking-for-a-hat? response. Georgie had squashed that enormous leap as firmly as she could, but here she was, supposedly having a serious relationship with the guy looking at her now with those fabulous dark, dark eyes.
What had begun as an ill-thought-out but well-intentioned little white lie had taken on a life of its own faster than a rocket soaring into space. An entire future had been planned before Georgina had had time to draw breath—and now here she was.
‘Please don’t say a word to Matias,’ she had begged Rose, horrified at the thought of a congratulatory phone call to a guy who would have no idea what his mother was going on about. ‘We...er...planned on breaking it to you together... Just that we’re going out, Rose... Who knows where that will lead...?’
The feeble utterances had actually brought her out in a cold sweat and prompted her immediate departure to London. As his newly acquired girlfriend, didn’t she need to know the layout of his house? She still felt queasy.
‘You want to see my house? Why?’
‘You’re so scornful whenever you come down to Cornwall... I want to see what you have here that’s so superior.’
Matias tilted his head to one side and looked at her carefully. ‘Why am I getting the feeling that something’s going on here that I don’t know about?’
‘You don’t have to show me around if you don’t want to.’
‘Bring your drink. Maybe after a bit of alcohol you’ll tell me exactly what’s going on, Georgie.’
‘Why are you so suspicious?’
‘Because I wasn’t born yesterday. I also know you. Some might say better than I’ve ever known any woman. You’re here for a reason, and if it’s not because my mother needs me to come down to Cornwall for health reasons, then you’re here for something else and you’re too scared to come right out and tell me. Is it money?’
On his way to the sitting room to begin the grand tour, Matias stopped abruptly and looked at Georgina through narrowed eyes. He positioned himself so close to her that she could pick up the faint whiff of whatever expensive aftershave he wore. She automatically edged back.
‘You think I’m here to...to ask you for money? And you claim to know me?’
‘It’s not that far-fetched.’ Matias shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised how many people come crawling out of the woodwork to ask for money when they find out that I’m in a position to bestow it upon them.’
‘Why would I have to ask you for money, Matias? I have a job! I’m a food photographer! By your lofty standards it may not pay much, but it’s more than enough for me to live on! So why on earth would I have to come to you for a loan?’
‘No idea. Who knows what sort of financial trouble you might have got yourself into?’
He spun round and Georgina stared at him with outrage. No one had ever been able to rile her as much as Matias Silva. Or challenge her. Or generally send her nervous system into frantic overdrive. He was right. They knew one another—whether she cared to admit it or not.
From the side-lines she had watched the way he had turned into a forbidding and coolly remote adolescent after he had won a scholarship to a boarding school in Winchester. All pretence of having any interest in his parents’ organic farm had been dumped. Ambition had become his constant companion.
It was little wonder that he was now wondering whether she had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue because she needed a hand-out. For Matias, money was the only thing that made any sense. He’d never had much growing up, and he’d made it his life’s work to compensate for the lack.
Was it any wonder that they rubbed one another up the wrong way when they were as different as chalk and cheese? She was argumentative. He was intransigent. She was uninterested in money. Money was all he cared about. She loved where she lived. He hadn’t been able to wait to escape from it. She admired his parents. He privately scorned them.
‘Well? Spit it out, Georgie. Do you need a loan?’
He looked her up and down, head inclined to one side, his dark eyes coolly speculative. She didn’t think there was a man alive who got on her nerves more.
‘Have you been living beyond your means?’ he murmured with exaggerated interest. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of. Oh, wait... I can see why you might be ashamed, bearing in mind your holier-than-thou outlook on life which you’ve spent the past ten years droning on about.’
Georgina gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists. ‘I’m not here to ask you for money, Matias.’
‘Didn’t think you were.’ He moved off to begin their tour, pushing open doors without bothering to explain which room was used for what.
‘Why’s that?’ she asked.
All white. Minimalist. Big, expensive abstract art on the walls. A lot of chrome. The best money could buy. Again, no surprise there. Matias had gone to university a year early, studied Maths and Economics, and left with a job at an investment bank in his hand. Within five years he had made his first million and then he had started flying solo, buying up sick companies and turning them around. He’d invested in property on the side. By thirty he’d had an empire under his belt and more money than anyone could use in a lifetime. Every room she glimpsed bore witness to how rich he