Taka taka taka tak tak tak…taka taka taka tak… She was doing it! They had practised for about an hour on the dusty ground, and now Maria had deemed Zoë ready for the stage where, working together, the heels of their shoes made a crisp, satisfying sound on the hard wooden floor.

      Breathing hard, her face fierce with concentration, Zoë thrust her head back as Maria had directed. One arm sweeping behind her back, she raised the other hand stiff, in a defiant pose, as if calling up some invisible energy…

      ‘Olé!’

      ‘Rico!’

      ‘Don’t stop now,’ Maria ordered sharply.

      But Zoë suddenly felt exposed and foolish. ‘I’d much rather watch you,’ she said, moving to the back of the stage. ‘You haven’t danced a solo yet.’

      ‘I’m saving myself,’ Maria said sardonically. ‘Whereas you, Zoë, are hiding yourself.’

      ‘That’s not true…’

      ‘Isn’t it?’ Maria demanded as Rico approached the stage.

      ‘Why did you stop?’ He stared up at Zoë.

      ‘I’m very much a beginner—I’m not ready to perform in public.’ Her heart lurched at his assessing look.

      ‘But from what I have seen you have potential—don’t you agree, Maria?’

      ‘Mucho potential,’ Maria agreed, but she made a disapproving sound with her tongue against the roof of her mouth when she looked at Rico, as if she sensed some double meaning behind his words.

      ‘So, will you dance for me, Zoë?’

      Rico’s question had an alarming effect on Zoë’s senses. It was like every seduction technique imaginable condensed into a few short words. She would love nothing more than to dance for him, with this new and abandoned feeling rushing through her. Just the thought of being so uninhibited in his presence was tempting. She felt strong, and in control, and highly sexual—as if the dance had enabled her to plunge head first into a world of sensuality for the first time in her life. Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, Zoë realised she loved the feeling. It was intoxicating—and extremely dangerous.

      ‘I’m waiting for your answer,’ Rico reminded her.

      Zoë glanced around, but Maria had melted away, lost in the crowds already gathering for that night’s performance.

      ‘Come down from there.’

      She looked at him and hesitated.

      ‘Please, Zoë?’

      She was surprised. His voice had gentled.

      ‘I don’t bite, and—’

      ‘Are you apologising to me?’ Zoë said, cocking her head to one side as she looked at him.

      ‘Me?’ Rico half smiled at her as he touched one hand to his chest.

      His eyes were different now, she noticed. Darker, still a little guarded, but warmer—definitely warmer. ‘Yes, you. Who else has doubted my motives in Cazulas, Rico?’

      And he still doubted her motives. But he could handle it. He could handle her too. ‘So, you’re too timid to dance for me?’

      ‘I don’t do private exhibitions.’

      ‘That’s a pity.’

      ‘Is it? Would you really think more of me if I made a habit of dancing for men? I don’t think so. You’ve already shown your contempt for me—I can just imagine what you would make of that.’

      ‘I admit we’ve got off to a bad start—’

      ‘That’s putting it mildly.’

      ‘So, here’s our chance to start again.’

      ‘Should I want to?’

      She saw his mouth quirk at one corner, as if he wanted to smile.

      ‘I hoped you might.’

      Zoë half turned away, lifting her chin as she considered his words. ‘I’m not so sure,’ she said, turning back to him again with a frown. ‘Why should I? I don’t need the aggravation.’

      ‘Who said anything about aggravation, Zoë? Come on—come down from there and let’s talk.’

      She couldn’t stand up on the stage all night. People were beginning to stare at her. She would have to do something soon—dance a solo or get off the stage. Picking up her skirt, she walked briskly down the steps.

      ‘Zoë, please.’

      She looked down at Rico’s hand on her arm. ‘This had better be good.’

      ‘I hope you think so.’

      She gasped when he drew her in front of him. ‘Rico, what—?’

      ‘I think I’ve behaved rather badly.’

      ‘Yes, you have.’ It was harder than she had thought to meet his gaze this close up.

      ‘I can understand why you don’t feel like trusting me now.’

      ‘Can you?’ She didn’t trust herself either when he was around.

      ‘Will you let me make amends? Have dinner with me.’

      Zoë stared at him. Was he serious?

      ‘Zoë?’

      She had to get herself out of this somehow. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

      ‘Which is?’

      He seemed amused. But hopefully this would get her off the hook. It was the only challenge she could think of that Rico wouldn’t want to take up. ‘If you cook for me, I’ll dance for you.’

      ‘Bueno.’ He didn’t waste any time over his answer. ‘Shall we say later tonight?’

      ‘Tonight?’ All the breath seemed suddenly to have been sucked out of her lungs.

      ‘We eat late in Spain.’ Rico was quite matter-of-fact about it. Did he think her hesitation was due to ignorance of local customs? ‘Shall we say ten o’clock?’

      ‘Ten o’clock?’ Zoë repeated, staring up at him blankly.

      ‘Yes, let’s say ten. That will give you enough time to prepare.’

      To prepare what? She bit her lip. Unaccountably, her brain stalled, and not a single word of refusal made it to her lips.

      ‘Then it’s agreed,’ Rico said with satisfaction. ‘We will meet again, later tonight, at Castillo Cazulas.’

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THIS was the last thing she had expected to be doing, Zoë thought, as she tested the small four-wheel drive she had just hired to its limits. Rico had said he would follow her back to the castle later, to cook the meal and watch her dancing. She could only hope he was joking. The idea of dancing for him already seemed ridiculous.

      Glancing in the driver’s mirror, she saw the bundle of clothes Maria had insisted she take with her, assuring her that she would feel more comfortable dancing in them than jeans. More comfortable? Maybe—until Rico saw her wearing the flimsy low-necked blouse and ultra-feminine practice skirt!

      She knew she was playing with fire, but where Rico Cortes was concerned it seemed she couldn’t resist courting danger. Fortunately the film crew would be out partying until late, so no one would even know what she planned to do—or what kind of fool she made of herself.

      As she pulled into the courtyard she thought about cancelling. But she didn’t know how to get hold of Rico—and why should she pull out? She was more likely to dance than he was to cook. It was