The Spanish Millionaire's Runaway Bride Page 11

  No. She wasn’t ready at all. Freedom was airy and light and wonderful, but scary. Risky. At the same time, she didn’t want to leave.

  Still, was it fair to stay and keep Riccardo on the hook for her just because she was curious? She knew he’d been the person talking to Nanna. Making sure his grandmother watched her. He had to be tired of it.

  The dress fitting took only an hour. Because Nanna had promised to teach her to cook, they returned to the vineyard to make lunch. Nanna went to her apartment to change clothes and Morgan slipped on a pair of her jeans and a big T-shirt.

  Thirty minutes later, Nanna arrived with her tablet. “First we’re going to make a dessert my friends call the better-than-sex dessert.”

  Morgan laughed. “Better than sex?”

  Nanna tossed her a look. “Just trust me.” She walked to the island counter. “It needs to be refrigerated before we can eat it, but that gives us time to make the paella.”

  Nanna pulled the dessert recipe up on her tablet, then placed a call to the kitchen to have everything they needed for the paella and the dessert delivered to Morgan’s condo. When the ingredients arrived, they began cooking.

  And it was easy. The condo was stocked with pots and pans, bowls and utensils, dishes and silverware. Everything required was at their fingertips or a phone call away to the staff, and following recipes was just like following instructions for chemistry experiments.

  They ate the paella and dessert for lunch, and Morgan groaned with ecstasy. “That dessert is fabulous.”

  Nanna laughed. “I told you.” She rose from the table. “Now it’s time for my nap.” She headed for the refrigerator. “But I’m taking the leftover dessert with me.”

  Dessert in hand, Nanna walked to the door. Morgan opened it for her. “I’ll see you at supper.”

  Nanna stopped. “Oh, no, dear. I’m sorry. There is no family dinner tonight. It’s Saturday night. Everyone has plans.”

  “Plans?”

  “Marguerite and Santiago are going out with friends. Riccardo’s parents are having a private dinner at home. Alonzo and Julia are also staying in.” She paused, caught Morgan’s gaze. “I just assumed you would be doing something with Riccardo.”

  She almost told Nanna that Riccardo had said nothing to her, but stopped herself. Anybody who jumped out of the shower to ask where she was going wouldn’t let her have supper alone.

  She smiled at Nanna. “I’m sure we will.”

  Nanna kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She closed the door and leaned against it, excitement bubbling through her. Tonight would be their first private dinner since they were on the road, when she’d looked like a street urchin. Tonight, she would dazzle him.

  She spent an hour doing her toenails and fingernails, soaked in a bubble bath for another hour and then washed her hair. Dressed in pink silk pajamas, she was about to do her makeup when she had a flash of inspiration. She called the kitchen and had them bring up four different kinds of wine, and she slid them into the kitchen’s wine cooler. She had no idea what Riccardo had planned, but no matter where they went for supper, even if it was only the family’s restaurant, she could invite him into her condo for a glass of wine afterward.

  She might be inexperienced but she wasn’t dumb.

  Eight o’clock that night, alone in her condo, wearing a sundress she hoped didn’t scream “I’ve been waiting for you,” with her hair fixed in a fancy style and her lips a striking shade of red, she was bored and miserable.

  She paced the sitting room feeling like an idiot. She couldn’t be angry with Riccardo for not showing up. He hadn’t invited her to dinner. He hadn’t even mentioned dinner. And she was an adult. He probably figured she could find her own food. On an estate with a restaurant, she should certainly be able to get something to eat.

  She sucked in a breath. She wasn’t hungry for food, but she did feel the need for comfort. A little sugar could go a long way right now. Especially if it came in the form of a better-than-sex dessert.

  She was just about to call the kitchen to see if they had the recipe when she noticed Nanna hadn’t taken her tablet. She hit a few keys and saw it hadn’t been password-protected. She easily got in and opened the app that got her on the internet.

  Her hand paused above the screen. Riccardo wasn’t interested in her and she was about to make a fool of herself because she kept making ridiculous assumptions. Maybe it really was time to go.

  Without further thought, she typed in the name of a popular airline and almost made reservations on the earliest flight to Paris—two days from now, but her fingers stopped again. It seemed dishonest to take off without telling Riccardo. Even with him ignoring her, she couldn’t seem to deceive him.

  She cleared the screen without making the reservation and looked up the recipe for the dessert. With her life back to being a confused mess, she wanted her pudding.

  Though it was now long past eight, she called the kitchen. Speaking Spanish, she asked for the ingredients she needed to make the dessert. While she waited for them, she ducked into her bedroom, yanked off the dress, combed out her hair, wiped off the red lipstick, took out her contacts and threw on old jeans and a T-shirt.

  She returned to the sitting room, sliding her big glasses on her nose just as there was a knock on her door. She opened it to find someone from the kitchen staff and the ingredients she’d asked for.

  She refused to think about Riccardo as she pulled a glass baking pan and two big bowls out of the cupboards and went to work. The crust was first since it had to be cool before she could put the cream cheese filling on top. She mixed the butter, nuts and flour together, spread it out on the bottom of the baking dish and put it in the preheated oven.

  Fifteen minutes later, the timer rang. Pot holder in hand, she pulled out the finished crust and beamed. Perfect. It was all so easy, she felt like a dolt for not cooking her entire life. And for caring what Riccardo thought. She would go home to a whole new life. A life where she wasn’t just an equal with her dad, but she could cook. Take care of herself.

  As the crust cooled, she gathered the cream cheese, whipped topping and vanilla extract and blended them using a hand mixer Nanna had shown her was in the cupboard. Relaxation filled her. She’d been told her mother had been an excellent cook and now she understood why she’d taken the time to prepare meals though they had a staff. Preparing food came with a wonderful sense of accomplishment.

  With the wet ingredients blended, she opened the confectioner’s sugar and measured a cup and a half, dumping it on top of the cream-cheese filling. She turned on the mixer and dipped the beaters into the powdered sugar and—poof!—she was covered in white dust.

  It surprised her so much she screamed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RICCARDO WAS JUST about to punch in his key code, when he heard Morgan scream. He raced to her door, damning his family for insisting on locks and steel doors he couldn’t break down. He banged on the door, calling, “Morgan!” as he tried the knob. It gave—because she hadn’t locked it—and he shoved open the door and raced inside, only to find Morgan standing by the counter covered in white powder.

  He laughed.

  She gave him an evil look. “What exactly do you think is so funny?”

  “Oh, my gosh. You...” Another laugh escaped. Even the lenses of her big glasses were covered in white. “What were you doing?”

  She took off her glasses, whipped a paper towel off the roll and cleaned the lenses. “I was cooking.”

  He sniffed the air. “Smells good.”

  “That’s the crust of the dessert your grandmother taught me to make this afternoon.”

  “And you decided to make it again because you were bored?”

  Her chin lifted. “No. I got hungry for it.”

  He pointed at the powder-covered countertop. “You should have go
tten hungry for a sandwich.”

  Her chin rose a little higher, clueing him in that she was truly angry. And he supposed she had a right to be. The entire family had other plans that night. He’d expected to be out of his meeting with Alonzo in time to take her somewhere. But Alonzo kept talking about wanting the third vineyard, needing the house for himself and Julia, in spite of the fact that the seller had finally provided the purchase price and it was way over what the vineyard could afford to pay.

  Meaning Riccardo had totally abandoned Morgan.

  “I wanted dessert.”

  Not sure how to make amends, he took a paper towel and brushed off her shoulders. “Your back is comically clean.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t pout. It’s very funny to see somebody covered head to toe in white stuff in the front but perfectly clean in the back.”

  “Yeah. It’s hysterical. I’m going to change.”

  “It might be a better idea to finish making your dessert first.” Avoiding a glare, he glanced around. “How much more do you have to do?”

  She sighed and walked back to the mixer. “I just have to beat this powdery stuff in, then make instant pudding.”

  “I could help.”

  She hesitated. He almost wished she’d tell him to go back to his room. It was too late for dinner. And damn if she wasn’t adorable trying to be domestic.

  “Maybe a little supervision isn’t a bad idea.” She eyed him skeptically. “Do you cook a lot?”

  “Enough to know that you don’t put mixer beaters into dry powder sugar and expect to stay clean.”

  He walked over to the counter and pulled a large spoon from a side drawer. He folded the white powder into the cream-cheese filling a few times, then said, “Okay, try it now.”

  She lowered the beaters and in under a minute it was blended. “I suppose I should thank you.”

  He leaned against the counter. “That would be nice.”

  She peeked over at him. “Thank you.”

  He looked into her pretty blue eyes and saw a combination of chagrin and desperation that made him long to hug her. But he remembered he didn’t get emotionally involved with needy women or even nice women. He didn’t do relationships. He had simple, uncomplicated flings. That was why his life was easy.

  “You take all this too seriously, you know.”

  She picked up the bowl and began layering the cream-cheese filling onto the cooled crust. “All what?”

  “Normal stuff. Things you think the rest of us know but you don’t. Lots of it is common sense. And for the rest there’s YouTube.”

  She looked over at him, studied him for a few seconds, then laughed. “YouTube?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Take that box of pudding mix. I’ll bet if you Googled it, you could find a YouTube video on how to make it.”

  She presented the box to him. “Directions are right here.”

  “Sure. You had the directions for the white stuff, too, but you ended up covered in powder.”

  “Very funny.”

  “At least now you know you won’t do that again.”

  She peered over at him. “No. I won’t. I’m not that stupid.”

  “Actually, you’re not stupid at all.” He spotted the wine in the cooler and strode over to grab a bottle. He hadn’t meant to leave her unattended through dinner. He owed her some company for a little while.

  While she made the pudding, he found two glasses and poured rich red wine into them. “This is last year’s. My dad thinks it’s too sweet. I think it’s perfect.”

  She took the glass, sampled the wine and smiled. “I like it.”

  She poured the pudding onto the layer of cream cheese then slid the pan into the refrigerator. “I’m guessing you’re hanging around because you want some of that dessert.”

  He laughed. “Yes and no.” Knowing it was time for the apology he should have made right away, he said, “I’m sorry I left you alone this evening.”

  She didn’t accept his apology, but looked away. She might have thought that made it appear like she didn’t care but it actually told him just how much she had cared.

  “It takes an hour to be firm enough that we can cut it.”

  He lifted the bottle of wine. “We can kill time with this.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Sure.”

  He headed for the French doors. “Have you used the deck yet?”

  “Your nanna has kept me kind of busy.”

  “Then you’re in luck. There’s a full moon. You can see for miles.”

  * * *

  Nerves rattled through Morgan. It wasn’t the perfect evening she’d seen in her head, but he was here and he was staying for a while. Plus, hadn’t she thought that morning that she could have him but that she’d have to make the first move? This might be the night she got the chance.

  The air was warm and the sky was clear. A huge golden moon watched over the silent vineyards. A woman who’d just walked away from a wedding, broken up with a fiancé and learned to cook was alone on a deck with the first man who’d ever really attracted her.

  Yeah. This was going to work.

  She sat on one of two chaise lounges on the well-appointed deck. There was a round glass table in the corner that would be perfect for morning coffee and a small square table sat between the two chaises. Riccardo set the wine bottle there, as he lowered himself to one of the chaises.

  “So Nanna tells me you know what you’re going to say to your dad.”

  Tonight she didn’t exactly want to talk about her dad, but the conversation had to start somewhere. This was as good of a place as any.

  “I have a general idea, but it’s not like I made a PowerPoint presentation with slides.” She shook her head with a laugh. “Your grandmother thinks that I should go home, tell him I’m not happy with our relationship and then leave.”

  Riccardo peered over. “Leave?”

  She ignored the feeling that zinged through her when she looked into his eyes. Especially since the expression in them seemed so neutral.

  “She thinks that if I try to argue he’ll best me. But if I take a stand and leave, but tell him where I’m going—the address to my new apartment—ultimately he’ll come to me willing to talk...or maybe listen.”

  He took a long breath, as if thinking through what she’d said. “That idea has some merit.”

  “But?”

  “He’s a busy guy.” He glanced at her. “Men do things differently than women.”

  “No kidding.” She was on pins and needles, thinking this might be her chance to make a move, and he was talking about her dad. Men certainly did do things differently than women.

  “I’m serious. The man runs a huge business and he’s still an advisor to more people than you and I even know. Heads of state come to him for advice all the time. What if you leave, one of his friends has a crisis and asks for help and he’s tied up for weeks?”

  The nervous torment of wondering how to make the first move disappeared. She silently held his gaze, not quite sure what he was telling her.

  “You could be sitting in an apartment in New York City, waiting for a call that he’s not even thinking about making because he’s handling a crisis.”

  “You’re saying I’m not that important to him?”

  “No, I’m saying that people are creatures of habit. He’s accustomed to solving problems. Accustomed to being called upon. To dropping everything to fix the world. And while he’s doing that, you’d be sitting alone, thinking he doesn’t care about you when really he’s just busy.”

  She let all that slide around in her brain. It was the reality of their relationship. Not that her dad believed everything in the world was more important than she was. It was more that he was a statesman, a diplomat. It was his calling. If someone needed him, he went.

&nb
sp; And she would be waiting for a phone call that wouldn’t come.

  She shook her head, jarring the picture of her sitting by a silent phone out of her brain because it was wrong. She was an adult. If she spent her time waiting by the phone for her dad to call? That was on her. Not him. She should be out having a life. Her life. Not being part of her dad’s.

  “Oh, my gosh.”

  “What?”

  “You’re right. Though Nanna got me thinking in the right direction, you just filled in the blanks. I need to move out of my dad’s house. But not because I don’t want him to find me. Because I need my own life. I also need to get a job somewhere other than the vineyard.” She finished the wine she’d been sipping in a quick swallow and refilled her glass.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “It didn’t need to be what you said. That’s the conclusion I came to after thinking through what you said.” She tapped his arm. “Come on, Riccardo. I’m twenty-five and I still live with my dad. I can’t complain about him running my life when I’m not doing anything to run it myself.”

  * * *

  Riccardo just stared at her. Had she just taken the advice he’d given her and twisted it to make his problem worse? If she told the Colonel he’d helped her decide to move out, the old man would forget everything he knew about diplomacy and shoot Riccardo first and ask questions later.

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

  “I don’t think so.” She took a sip of wine, then rose from her chaise with a laugh. “Your nanna thought leaving was a way to make him realize that I was serious. But the truth is, the best way to make him realize that the way he sees me needs to change is for me to change.”

  She walked over to the railing. Moonlight spilled over her hair and gave her face a radiant glow. “I wasn’t a spoiled child. From the time I was twelve, I was my dad’s hostess and that wasn’t easy. I never saw myself as dependent upon my dad. I saw us as a team. But I never realized that team was holding me back from becoming me.” She took another sip of her wine. “I’m a CPA, for heaven’s sake. I could change the world.”