about Rafe Santine.
“I think you’ll approve of Fred’s taste,” Santine said easily. “Your wardrobe will be delivered late this afternoon. If you need anything else, just tell either him or Dawson and they’ll take care of it. I’m giving a formal dinner party for a few business associates and their wives this evening.” He grimaced ruefully. “That’s the only form of business activity my doctor is sanctioning for me at the moment. I’ll expect you downstairs in the living room at eight.”
“You want me at your dinner party?” Janna asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’m not really good at social functions.”
His face hardened. “Be there,” he ordered tersely. “I don’t expect you to entertain anyone but me. You don’t have to indulge in the usual chitchat or parlor tricks if you don’t want to. I just want to have something restful to look at when I get disgusted with all the bull that will be flying tonight.”
“If you feel like that, why entertain them at all?” she asked quietly.
“The game,” he answered simply. “It’s all a game, with the stakes getting bigger all the time. I may get sick to death of some of the moves, but I never get tired of winning the game. I like to win.” He plucked his napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table before rising to his feet. “Some of the guests will be arriving in a few hours by helicopter. I won’t expect you to join us at the pool for lunch, but you
will
come down for dinner. Understand?”
“It would be hard not to,” she said wryly. “You’re a very incisive man, Mr. Santine.”
“Rafe,” he corrected curtly, and he turned and strode briskly across the terrace. Before he disappeared through the open French doors he looked over his shoulder to say, “I’ll have Stokley bring yourlunch to your room. Be sure that you eat every bite.” He was gone before she could muster a reply.
Her lips were curved in a rueful smile as she slowly rose to her feet. It seemed that Santine’s momentary softening was definitely over and he was back to his usual laconic, autocratic self. She sighed morosely as she thought of the evening ahead. It was true she found the kind of dinner party that Santine was planning unutterably boring, and usually avoided such affairs like the plague. Well, he’d given her no choice but to attend this one. Thank heaven he’d excused her from the luncheon that was to precede it. Now all she had to do was to find a way of occupying herself that would keep her discreetly out of Santine’s guests’ perimeter until it was time to dress for dinner. Perhaps she would go back to the gazebo for a bit and then explore the path that led down to the beach. Her face brightened at the thought, and she set out once again, with an eager, springing step, toward the courtyard door.
The slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun were casting long shadows on the courtyard tiles when Janna returned to the castle. Her khaki pants were rolled up to her knees, her sandy feet bare, and she was swinging her desert boots in one hand. She paused at the fountain in the center of the courtyard to gaze ruefully at her reflection in the water before giving the tousled image in the mirrored surface a playful flick with her hand that scattered crystal drops onto the rose-beige flagstone tiles. Then she threw back her head and laughed with the sheer joy of living.
It had been such a lovely afternoon, wandering along the rock-strewn beach and wading in the surf. She had even built a sand castle in the image of this lovely Spanish mansion. As she sat on the edge of the fountain and swung her feet in the cool water towash away the dust and sand that clung to her toes, she looked critically at the bell tower. She hadn’t gotten that tower quite right in her sand castle, she mused. She hadn’t remembered the brass-trimmed shutters on the two windows. She’d have to be more precise next time. She swung her
“I think you’ll approve of Fred’s taste,” Santine said easily. “Your wardrobe will be delivered late this afternoon. If you need anything else, just tell either him or Dawson and they’ll take care of it. I’m giving a formal dinner party for a few business associates and their wives this evening.” He grimaced ruefully. “That’s the only form of business activity my doctor is sanctioning for me at the moment. I’ll expect you downstairs in the living room at eight.”
“You want me at your dinner party?” Janna asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’m not really good at social functions.”
His face hardened. “Be there,” he ordered tersely. “I don’t expect you to entertain anyone but me. You don’t have to indulge in the usual chitchat or parlor tricks if you don’t want to. I just want to have something restful to look at when I get disgusted with all the bull that will be flying tonight.”
“If you feel like that, why entertain them at all?” she asked quietly.
“The game,” he answered simply. “It’s all a game, with the stakes getting bigger all the time. I may get sick to death of some of the moves, but I never get tired of winning the game. I like to win.” He plucked his napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table before rising to his feet. “Some of the guests will be arriving in a few hours by helicopter. I won’t expect you to join us at the pool for lunch, but you
will
come down for dinner. Understand?”
“It would be hard not to,” she said wryly. “You’re a very incisive man, Mr. Santine.”
“Rafe,” he corrected curtly, and he turned and strode briskly across the terrace. Before he disappeared through the open French doors he looked over his shoulder to say, “I’ll have Stokley bring yourlunch to your room. Be sure that you eat every bite.” He was gone before she could muster a reply.
Her lips were curved in a rueful smile as she slowly rose to her feet. It seemed that Santine’s momentary softening was definitely over and he was back to his usual laconic, autocratic self. She sighed morosely as she thought of the evening ahead. It was true she found the kind of dinner party that Santine was planning unutterably boring, and usually avoided such affairs like the plague. Well, he’d given her no choice but to attend this one. Thank heaven he’d excused her from the luncheon that was to precede it. Now all she had to do was to find a way of occupying herself that would keep her discreetly out of Santine’s guests’ perimeter until it was time to dress for dinner. Perhaps she would go back to the gazebo for a bit and then explore the path that led down to the beach. Her face brightened at the thought, and she set out once again, with an eager, springing step, toward the courtyard door.
The slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun were casting long shadows on the courtyard tiles when Janna returned to the castle. Her khaki pants were rolled up to her knees, her sandy feet bare, and she was swinging her desert boots in one hand. She paused at the fountain in the center of the courtyard to gaze ruefully at her reflection in the water before giving the tousled image in the mirrored surface a playful flick with her hand that scattered crystal drops onto the rose-beige flagstone tiles. Then she threw back her head and laughed with the sheer joy of living.
It had been such a lovely afternoon, wandering along the rock-strewn beach and wading in the surf. She had even built a sand castle in the image of this lovely Spanish mansion. As she sat on the edge of the fountain and swung her feet in the cool water towash away the dust and sand that clung to her toes, she looked critically at the bell tower. She hadn’t gotten that tower quite right in her sand castle, she mused. She hadn’t remembered the brass-trimmed shutters on the two windows. She’d have to be more precise next time. She swung her
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