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you have the final say?’
    ‘I’m trying to keep all business decisions away from my father at the moment,’ Max said briskly. ‘As his health isn’t good my mother doesn’t want him bothered by any kind of decision-making. So I will have the final say.’ He grinned wryly. ‘There, you’ve dragged it out of me. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be signing on the dotted line without going over everything in minute detail again.’
    ‘I can live with that,’ she said, feeling pleased with herself for even pinning him down that much.
    ‘Even if it means staying for an extra-long lunch?’ he asked with a smile.
    ‘Absolutely.’ She smiled back. ‘My time is yours.’
    ‘Now, that is encouraging.’
    Carrie looked into his eyes and for a moment she felt as if some invisible magnetising force were pulling her towards him. She wondered suddenly what he would say if she asked him to come to lunch tomorrow to meet Molly’s grandmother and pretend to be her partner. As soon as the idea crossed her mind she discarded it in horror. She knew from experience the dangers of mixing business with her personal life. It was a golden rule she intended to stick to from now on. And anyway Max Santos would probably be appalled if she told him of her little white lie…might even decide to take his advertising contract elsewhere; he was a businessman, after all, andhe’d want someone who could give one hundred per cent to his advertising, not someone with personal problems.
    ‘Anyway…’ Hastily she looked away from him and reached for her briefcase. ‘Let’s see now…I do have some more details that I need to discuss.’
    Max watched the way she calmly opened her leather briefcase. He admired her professionalism, and she intrigued him…it had been a long time since a woman had done that.
    Carrie riffled through the pages hurriedly until she found the relevant details.
    For a while their conversation centred on the papers in front of her, but it took all of Carrie’s resolve to remain focused. She was aware of everything about him: his smile made her heat up inside—even his businesslike questions seemed to stir excitement inside her.
    She was relieved when the housekeeper arrived to tell them that lunch was served, giving her a few moments to gather her senses.
    Max led her through to a dining room that also opened up onto the terrace. What was it about this man that made her feel like this? she wondered suddenly as she took a seat opposite him at a long, polished table and watched as he poured her a glass of wine. Why did she sense danger every time her eyes collided with his?
    ‘So, if you are happy with my suggestions, perhaps we could finalise the details and close our deal today?’ she suggested briskly.
    ‘You seem to be in quite a hurry suddenly, Carrie,’ he remarked.
    ‘Well, you know what they say, time is money.’ She met his eyes directly for a moment. ‘But then I sense that you don’t like to waste time either.’
    He smiled at that. ‘You’re right, I don’t. But I’ve still got time for our extra-long lunch.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ She laughed, and then, unable to hold his gaze for any longer, she looked away. ‘But I dare not be too late back to Barcelona today otherwise Molly’s grandmother will have me hung.’ Deliberately she lightened her tone and concentrated her attention on the salad appetiser of mozzarella cheese and vine tomatoes that the housekeeper placed before her. It was drizzled with olive oil and garnished with fresh basil, giving it the healthy, succulent taste of the Mediterranean.
    Max watched her closely across the table. He had never met a woman who tried to keep herself so reserved, so aloof. He sensed that she used her work as a barrier to hide behind—that for all those sharp, businesslike responses she was extremely vulnerable. He wondered suddenly if she had been badly hurt by somebody in the past.
    ‘Well, I’ll try not to keep you too late,’ he said softly.