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killed by a drunk driver in Valencia.” In the bar earlier - the watch. It was my husband’s - he died. He looked up at her, and he r sweet, alluring smile had gone, now just a stiff expression. “You were married to Fabrizio Merlini?”
    “Yes,” she said awkwardly. “A few years after we first met, I managed to get a job on his cycling team, so we got to spend more time together. He was based in Valencia for training so that is why I moved to Spain not long after we got married. When he died I needed to find a new job. I couldn’t face going back to work with his team.”
    “I’m sorry. The guy who killed him went to jail, didn’t he?”
    “I don’t like to talk about that guy, it’s…. it’s pretty raw for me.”
    “Yes, I’m sorry…”
    “It’s okay,” Luna replied. Her gentle smile came back. “Perhaps the story of how you work at the bullring is more compelling. What do you do when there are no fights on?”
    “Well…” Damn. More lies. “Bulls need to be bred for fights. We also breed horses, but I don’t have much to do with that side of the business.”
    “That is a very unusual job.” Luna leaned forward onto the table as she spoke. “How did you get into that?”
    “My father gave me the job. Now I just do whatever he tells me.”
    “It’s like a family business?”
    “Yes, my father used to do it. But now I am the… bull-minder … of the family.”
    “Wow. I guess you like animals then.”
    “No, I don’t,” he confessed with a smirk, and watched her laugh. He leaned forward onto the table again. He wanted to get closer to her and her perfect smile. There was something about her, something so captivating, and he was attracted to her in an understated but powerful way. But she had just lost her husband, so whatever carnal male thoughts he had been having earlier about the end of a date with the pretty woman were on hold.
    “So, have you had any more ideas on how you will solve the mystery of your grandfa ther?” Cayetano asked. His hand had drifted from the base of his wine glass in the direction of her delicate fingers that rested on the white linen tablecloth.
    “No,” she replied, and frowned. “I’ll come back when they find something on him in their records, but I do wonder if the whole thing is pointless.”
    “Perhaps you need to marry someone to stay in the country,” he teased.
    “Yes, well… that has been suggested.”
    “Have a man all lined up, do you?”
    “No,” she smiled. “I can get my work permit renewed. But I want to gain my residency here. I want to do this for myself. From what I know, this man, my supposed grandfather, Cayetano Ortega, owes his family something. It seems he wanted nothing to do with my grandmother when she got pregnant.”
    “How much do you know?”
    “Not much. My mother died when I was young, so I was raised by my father. He lost his own mother when he w as young, so family was a subject he didn’t want to talk about.”
    “It sounds as if your father had a very painful time.”
    “He did. He died 10 years ago. My mother had passed away 15 years earlier, and he never got over it. He would talk about her all the time, but I never knew her. He had lost his own mother, and his father was some man named Cayetano from a country he had never seen. We were on our own.”
    Cayetano gently ran his thumb over the back of her little hand. She again wore her wedding ring. “I’m sorry, Luna. Family is valuable. It must have been so hard, to leave behind his only child.”
    “I had just got married when he died, and my husband had promised my father he would take excellent care of me. I think that helped.”
    Cayetano watched Luna take a deep breath. Only the h usband hadn’t taken care of her. The conversation had become deep again, and it hurt her. There had to be a way to ease it back again. “You’re right. This Cayetano does owe his family something. Do you know where he was from?”
    “My grandmother, Scarlett, she