Double Booked

by CJ Anaya

  He left his hand on the side of my cheek.

  I stared at him, barely daring to breathe as sweet longing engulfed me.

  “You should probably put some clothes on,” I finally stuttered.

  He pulled his hand back, but a wicked smile lit his face. “I am wearing a towel. This is not sufficient?”

  “Technically, a towel cannot be categorized as an article of clothing. Please tell me you at least packed a shirt.”

  He continued to smile, but stood up and then moved over to a dresser along the wall across the end of the bed.

  “I packed several shirts, even a few pairs of pants.”

  “"Thank the Lord.”

  I thought I’d whispered it, but the delighted look on his face told me I was wrong.

  “I take it a man in a towel makes you nervous?”

  “Mr. Galvez, many things make me nervous, but sharing a room with a complete stranger who enjoys walking around in nothing but a towel is top on my list.”

  His laughter rang out sweet and sensual, lifting my spirits in a way nothing had for a long time.

  “You can call me Miguel, you know. After all, we are sharing a room together.”

  “Hopefully, it’s the only thing we’ll be sharing.” I muttered it more to remind myself of why I was here than to warn him off.

  Not that I needed to. This guy was a flirt. Nothing more. His soft chuckle told me he’d heard that last crack as well. I couldn’t help but feel a strange thrill of joy surge through me every time I made him smile.

  I needed to stop fixating on my roommate before the emotions I’d locked away in a small corner of my heart worked themselves free.

  I pulled back the covers, relieved to find myself in the same outfit I’d arrived in. I wouldn’t have put it past this accommodating hunk to feel it his duty to make me as comfortable as possible.

  When I stood and took a few steps toward the bathroom, the room dipped and spun for a moment. Great! I was about to go down in a clumsy heap on the white carpeted floor. I’m not sure how Mr. Galvez managed to reach me so quickly, but he had me cradled in his arms before the floor came up to greet me.

  I blinked and then double blinked, working the room back into focus.

  “Analise, are you all right?”

  His worry and concern for me felt sincere, but I couldn’t respond. I could feel myself being pulled back under by that same spirit who had forced me into a summoning earlier. I fought as best I could and then bit my tongue hard to keep myself alert and awake. Soon, the pull lessened, and I relaxed into the strong arms of a man I barely knew.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just...sometimes I get these dizzy spells. Low blood sugar, you see. I haven’t had a meal in a while.”

  I looked up into his eyes and sensed he felt a fierce protectiveness for me. A strange yet comforting realization to come to.

  “Then we need to get you something to eat, yes?” He ground out that last part with some effort. He kept looking at my lips as if they were the only thing he could focus on.

  I bit my bottom lip to prevent myself from saying what I was thinking—like kissing each other senseless might be a better use of our time—but that drew more attention to my lips. He inched his face closer, and suddenly my mind reeled in panic. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t allow any kind of emotional attachment to anyone, even if this gorgeous stranger thought of me as nothing but a fling, especially if he considered me that.

  I wiggled my legs to try to get him to set me down, which effectively broke whatever pull we felt toward one another. Though I stood firmly on my own two feet, his arms still held me around my waist, supporting me in a way nothing and no one ever had before.

  It was then that I realized he still wore nothing but his towel. I sprang back from him like he was a scalding flame.

  “You’re still in your towel!”

  He quirked an eyebrow at me in bemusement. “Yes, you nearly collapsed. There is no time for clothing oneself when a damsel is in distress.”

  I couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. “Thank you for saving me for the second time in the last twenty-four hours,” I managed.

  “It is nothing, but I am still concerned about your well-being. Come, we will get dressed and go to lunch. You need sustenance before you pass out again, and I am forced to come to your rescue. Not that I mind it.” He winked at me and returned to the dresser. I had to shake myself before moving toward my suitcase lying next to the bed.

  Yep. My hunky roommate equaled trouble with a capital T.

  Chapter Three

  Miguel Galvez had expensive taste if his clothing and form of transportation were any indication. He’d put on a silk gray business suit with a black button down shirt and tie, while I’d opted to stay a little less formal with a light blue maxi dress.

  This wasn’t a date, after all.

  I raised an eyebrow when he led me toward a jet-black sports car of the three hundred thousand dollar variety.

  “Nice,” I stated.

  He shrugged. “Merely a rental. Every once in a while I like to throw caution to the wind.”

  I thought his comment severely understated. This guy didn’t know the meaning of the word caution.

  He opened the door, and then took my hand to help me in as naturally as if we’d been dating for months. I kept my face a blank mask when I felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through my system. I didn’t look at him, hoping that if I refrained from acknowledging the sparks zigzagging between us he would follow my lead.

  I had a few seconds to relax my body a bit, as he rounded the front of the car. The minute he sat down and closed his door, I felt that lovely tension return like a heavy weight, closing in suddenly instead of gradually.

  Neither one of us said a single thing for a few seconds, and the awkward silence became more pronounced when he didn’t move to start the car. I clenched my left hand in my lap and used my right to nervously pick some imaginary lint off my knee. I felt his fingers smooth out my fisted hand, and I turned my surprised eyes to his amused ones.

  “You seem a bit tense, Analise. Your body always appears to be in a state of anxious preparation. As if you might flee the first chance you get. I hope I’m not the cause of your unease.”

  I gave him a wan smile, and said the first thing that popped into my head.

  “"Mr. Galvez, there isn’t a woman on this planet who could ever be completely at ease in your presence. There probably isn’t a woman on this planet who wouldn’t give their right kidney to actually be in your presence.”

  His eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed. “I love this about you. You never censor your comments. I would, however, prefer it if you called me Miguel.”

  I gave myself a few mental slaps. I had no filter around this guy, but maybe it was better this way. Acknowledge my attraction for him, and move on.

  “I suppose I could waste time pretending that this entire situation isn’t unusual, but I think we might feel more comfortable around each other if I just admit that sharing a room with a nice looking stranger is beyond awkward.”

  He gave me a heart-stopping wink, and laced his fingers through my own. “Then I think in the spirit of making things less awkward, we should skip the inane chit chat, and begin discussing matters that are truly interesting. Such as, how nice your hand feels in mine and how that dress you’re wearing flatters all of your curves.”

  My jaw dropped. “Did I mention that physical contact and shameless flattery are also on my list of things that make me uncomfortable?”

  His smile grew wide as he kept his eyes locked on mine and lifted my hand to his lips, giving it a slow, gentle kiss that had my heart pumping as hard as if I’d just run a marathon.

  “Would an entire week of scheduled dinner dates with me also rank top of your list?”

  “Most definitely,” I croaked.

  “Then consider yourself supremely uncomfortable and your evenings fully booked.”

  My eyebrows shot to my hairline a
s he started the car, and threw it in gear.

  The satisfied smirk on his face was more than adorable while simultaneously annoying as hell. He knew the affect he had on women, and I had merely played to his ego.

  I’d met plenty of arrogant, domineering men in my lifetime, but I had a feeling that Miguel Galvez could give them all a run for their money. Normally, I’d be protesting his assumption that I had nothing better to do than eagerly accept dinner invites from someone as handsome as he, but I was stuck with him for the entire week. I’d cater to his ego and play nice for now, but I’d probably need to put my foot down after today.

  If I wanted to keep this guy from playing with my heart strings, I was going to have to find a way to avoid him after this lunch date. Set that inflamed ego of his down a peg or two. Sharing a room together made that task feel as impossible as climbing Mount Everest. I hoped I was up to the challenge.

  Within minutes of taking off, I noticed Miguel checking the rear view mirror. In heavy traffic this would have been normal, but the roads remained fairly uncluttered. After about the fifth time he did this, I decided to take a look in my side mirror to see what had him behaving so paranoid.

  I noticed a large, black SUV trailing behind us, but that was it. Nothing strange about that.

  “Mr. Galvez, why do you keep checking your mirror?”

  He gave me a questioning look. “Am I? I guess one can never be too careful when it comes to American drivers.”

  “Are you saying people in the United States can’t drive?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying, and the name is Miguel.” He flashed me his brilliantly white teeth and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from returning his smile with one that was sure to look insanely goofy. I was a melted puddle of Jell-O around this guy.

  “Do you know much about Galveston Island, Analise?”

  “Not a thing.” I sneaked a look in my side mirror again and noticed the SUV still following close behind. So what? We were driving on an island. Whomever was seated in the SUV probably needed some food as badly as I did.

  “Then allow me to be your tour guide for the week. After we finish lunch we can go see some of the sites on The Strand.”

  “The Strand?”

  “A historical district. A popular tourist attraction.”

  I hesitated, knowing that more time with Miguel equaled a higher probability of dealing with a summoning in his presence. Of course, we were nowhere near the hotel, so the chances of it happening while we went sightseeing might be less than what I feared.

  I also considered the danger I might be placing myself in by spending my time with a warlock, regardless of whether or not he knew what he was.

  Decisions, decisions.

  “I suppose that would be okay.”

  “You suppose?” He lightly trailed his index finger along my arm. “"I suppose we could always do something else. Perhaps we could return to our suite and get to know one another better there.”

  “The Strand sounds great,” I choked out.

  I could see Miguel smirking out of the corner of my eye. “Excellent. It’s a date.”

  A date? This was now a date?

  Heaven help me.

  * * *

  “So tell me what exactly brought you here to Galveston,” Miguel said.

  I couldn’t help but feel as if all eyes rested upon myself and my lunch date as we sat at a white square table overlooking the waterfront. The restaurant he’d brought me to boasted of incredible beach views and scintillating Mardi Gras music. I’d rather Miguel had taken me to a less romantic location. My hormones didn’t need this kind of encouragement.

  “I write a small column for The Gazette in New York City.” I congratulated myself on my brief answer. The less information I gave up the better.

  “And what is this column about?”

  “Let’s talk about you.” My attempt at redirecting the conversation wasn’t subtle, but something told me subtlety wasn’t going to work with this guy. “What kind of business has you visiting a bed and breakfast inn?”

  He remained silent for a moment, giving me a speculative look, but eventually relented and gave in to the swift change in subject.

  “I am an antiques dealer of the colonial variety, especially anything that can be found during the revolutionary war era.”

  My interest piqued, I tried picturing this runway model haggling over antique furniture and family keepsakes.

  “That’s an unusual profession to jump into. What first drew you to antiques?”

  He smiled as if he knew I had a hard time believing he hadn’t walked off the cover of GQ.

  “My ancestry is made up of an intriguing and complex line of individuals, all of whom lived exemplary lives and possessed remarkable trinkets. I started to search out family heirlooms once belonging to my ancestors that were lost during the war with the British.”

  “You’re talking about the American Revolution?”

  “Sí. I am a descendant of one of your American war heroes.” His tone wasn’t boastful in any way. He stated his claim as if everyone had war heroes in their family line.

  “Who was he?”

  “Bernardo de Galvez. He was the governor of Louisiana, which at that time belonged to Spain.”

  “So you’re a Spaniard. I wondered where that lovely accent of yours claimed its origins.”

  He gave me a brief flash of his perfect teeth. “Sí. I was born in Spain, but spent most of my time in the States searching for lost artifacts and heirlooms. While doing this, I became enchanted with antiques and artifacts in general. I soon started a company and now own a successful antiquing business. Though I do spend a fair amount of time following up on leads that might help me discover more artifacts that once belonged to my family.”

  I studied him with newfound respect. I still considered his ego far too large for any one man to possess, but I thought it wonderful that he desired to connect with his past and discover the rich history of his family heritage.

  I certainly understood that desperate desire to feel anchored to something, to find family ties that linked you to people with whom you truly belonged. I might have understood my gift a little earlier in life with less fear and more know-how.

  “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  He nodded. “There are some remarkable pieces mentioned in a few history books that vanished into thin air at the end of the Revolution. I’ve spent a great deal of time trying to track them down to no avail.”

  “Why are these pieces so important to you?”

  He remained silent for a moment as he contemplated my question.

  “Let’s just say their recovery would have quite the effect on the world’s economy, not to mention the sentimental value they hold for me, of course.”

  It sounded as if sentimentality had nothing to do with it, which most likely meant the artifacts in question were quite valuable.

  “Do you know where to look next?”

  His focus on me seemed to sharpen. “Oh, yes. It’s for this reason that I am here. There is…someone on this island whom I am certain holds the key to this perplexing mystery.”

  I shifted in my seat, feeling slightly caught off guard by his direct, smoldering gaze. I wondered if he was under the mistaken impression that I might be that person.

  Oh, the downfall of an overactive imagination. I was forever spotting danger and intrigue in the most harmless situations.

  I picked up my glass of water and took a nervous sip. The conversation was interesting, but Miguel’s presence left me hotter and bothered than I wanted to admit.

  “What did this Bernardo de Galvez do during the war?”

  Miguel leaned back in his seat a little, alleviating the tension that had momentarily settled between us.

  “He sent supplies to George Roberts Clark by pretending to seize and destroy American ships in New Orleans. That way he could help aid the colonists without the British being the wiser. He had to tread
carefully since Spain had not yet entered the war.”

  “That’s fascinating. I wonder why I’ve never heard of him before.”

  He smiled. “It is not uncommon for Americans to fixate on George Washington and other more prominent figures from the war. Although, you will find that most people in this area know of Bernardo de Galvez, since Galveston Island is named after him.”

  I realized I’d been leaning forward, completely engrossed in his brief history lesson. I eased back in my chair to put a little space between us, and then felt grateful when the waiter brought out our food.

  I’d opted for something light since I’d been a little off my game ever since my arrival to the island. Just a small chicken salad. I momentarily regretted my choice when I smelled Miguel’s plate of catfish creole.

  “I cannot believe you only ordered a salad. Someone suffering from low blood sugar needs protein.” He must have observed me eying his food because he smiled and scooped up a small morsel. “Come, you must have a few bites.”

  “"No, no. I’m perfectly happy with my salad. There’s plenty of chicken here for me.”

  He reached forward with his other hand and gently took my chin. “You are in my care, yes? I’ll not allow my most favorite roommate in all of Galveston Island to eat something so sparse. My mother would have my head for it and inform you that you are too skinny.”

  I froze against his caressing touch and automatically opened my mouth when he brought the fork to my lips. Feeding me like this, well, it was too intimate a gesture, something reserved for lovers, or at the very least good friends. We were barely acquaintances. He watched me as my lips slowly closed around his offering, pulling the fork away as I chewed, never once taking his eyes from mine.

  His look revealed a host of emotions that read like a picture book across the table. At first he played the part of the flirt, sending me a sizzling smile while offering me food and caressing my cheek to distract me from refusing the tasty bite, and then his face became serious, searching for, and evidently finding something he hadn’t expected. His eyes widened ever so slightly as the smoking hot smile he gifted me slowly slid from his face, replaced by an expression so hungry in nature, I nearly forgot to chew my food.