by MK Meredith
All in all, the evening had been a success. They began with the best. Since Huntington Place Barcelona did not disappoint, it made up for the time spent outside of the hotel.
London grabbed his hand and pulled him in after her. “Come sit with me. You always sit so close, but for some reason I like it.” Her look of confusion was so sincere, he slid to her side so she didn’t have to ask again.
She was about five too many glasses of vermouth into the night and didn’t seem to care one bit. “Where to next, my sexy Spaniard?” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh wait. Don’t get mad. I meant Catalonian, Catalonia…Catalan!”
His strong, independent American friend was a bit of a goofy drunk, and he loved it. “I’m taking you back to your room.”
She grabbed his tie, then pulled him close. The sweet scent of vermouth hit him before her lips did. Unable to resist, he sank into her warmth and tasted the sweet alcohol on her tongue. As quickly as she pressed her mouth to his, she withdrew and flopped back against the leather seat.
There was no doubt that she’d enjoyed herself. He’d planned to surprise her and stretch out the evening, showing off the hotel with a little pampering at the spa. But that was going to have to wait. At this point, she’d never remember any of it. His brain told him to be annoyed, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not with that silly grin on her face.
Then her expression grew serious, and she watched him through the darkness. “Who are you, really?”
He froze. Did she know? Turning toward her, he picked up her hand. “You know who I am.”
She shook her head, then pressed against her temples. “Oh, that was a bad idea.”
Releasing a breath, Mateu turned toward the door as the car rolled to a stop outside the hotel. “We’re hoo-oome,” she said in a singsong voice.
He was impressed by how well she played sober until he got her into the elevator, then she broke into a fit of giggles. Leaning against the wall, he put his hand out and found himself quite pleased when she slid hers into it without hesitation. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
“I feel glorious.” She winked. “Dare I say it…maybe even beautiful.”
At this moment, she was both the cutest and sexiest version of any woman he’d ever seen.
The elevator door opened, and she pulled him through it. “I had such an amazing time. I loved the limo ride, I loved the vermouth.” She spun toward him. “Maybe we should have more.”
“I think you finished it all.”
“Ha. You tease.”
She pulled her room key from her clutch, then on her third try, slipped it into the slot of the door. As they moved into the room, the smile fell from her face and the look in her eyes grew serious.
Hesitating at the doorway, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.”
She stood in the center of the large room, looking smaller than he was used to and with eyes way too sad for the night they just shared. “Please don’t go,” she whispered.
Mateu didn’t move. “You want me to stay?” Every warning bell he possessed clanged in his head.
She pulled in a shaky breath as she looked around the space. “I sleep alone all the time. I’m alone…all the time.”
He closed the door behind him. The tone of her voice and the sight of her so emotionally bare before him shifted something in his chest. Something protective and foreign that made him both want to get out as fast as possible and pull her into his arms. “You’re fine. You need some sleep, then you’ll feel your normal happy self by morning.”
A small shake of her head was her only answer. She unbuttoned her shirt, then pulled it from her waistband, and he swallowed hard. Her breasts were encased in a lacy bra the color of her skin and sat high and firm on her chest.
“What are you doing?” His voice sounded strained to his own ears.
She shucked her shorts to the floor and kicked them off her heels, mumbling as she went. “Did you know I hate asking for help? Makes me feel weak, like I can’t handle things on my own.” She hiccupped, then looked at him with a frown. “Please stay.”
Every fiber in Mateu’s body demanded he go to her. He wanted her. Badly. But not like this. Never like this. When he made love to her, she would look him directly in the eyes and tell him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But, under the circumstances, that could not happen. She didn’t even know who he really was.
Standing before him in nothing but her barely there panties, bra, and black strappy heels, pleading with her eyes for him to stay, he was faced with the undeniable fact that he was about to experience the most uncomfortable night of his life.
He searched through her closet, then pulled out a T-shirt. “So you don’t get cold.”
“Thank you.”
On a sigh, he locked the door, then toed off his own shoes. A little more searching, and he returned with a bottled water and ibuprofen.
As he made his way to the bed, she crawled across the down comforter on her hands and knees, triggering every fantasy he’d had since meeting her. She tossed the T-shirt to the floor, apparently having decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and shoved back the blankets.
Cracking his neck on one side then the other, he removed his jacket and tie, then untucked his shirt. He turned down the lights until there was only a soft glow washing over the room, hoping that she’d fall asleep quickly.
She lay in the center of the bed on her side with her legs drawn up and her hands tucked under her cheek. He was going to stay, but he put off joining her. Something was changing, and once he comforted her, once he met this need of friendship, he worried about how he was going to keep up his facade for the remainder of her stay. In the beginning, he hadn’t even thought of his actions as a lie, but now every word he uttered left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Setting the water and pain medication on the bedside table, he lowered to the edge of the mattress then pulled her ankle toward him.
She watched him with sleepy eyes, as he worked the straps of each heel, sliding them from her feet. “I had to return my favorite pair with the little chains.”
He stilled, but she didn’t offer any more. That was sad, indeed.
Once freed, she rubbed her toes against one another, then tucked them behind her.
With a multitude of warnings still clanging through his head, he slid in next to her, tucking one hand under his head as she snuggled into his side.
“Thank you.” Her whisper was a simple statement that didn’t feel simple to him at all.
He handed her the medicine. “Here, take this. It’ll help ease the worst of your headache in the morning.”
She swallowed the pills and drank half the water.
“Do you know I haven’t had a migraine since I arrived here? Maybe you’re good for me,” she mumbled.
He pulled the comforter over her shoulders. Her words warmed him and left him cold, because he wasn’t good for anyone, especially not her. Even if it wasn’t for his deceit, he’d learned through countless painful lessons that he was only good enough until women got what they wanted, but in the end, what they wanted never included him. “Get some sleep.”
She yawned. “I should have napped today since I was up most of the night last night.”
What? “You were up most of the night?” He forgot to disguise the irritation in his voice, but in her current state, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Remember, I had plans?” She snuggled in more closely, sliding her leg over his thigh. She fit against him with an ease that made his body rejoice and his mind race in panic.
“What plans, exactly?” He wanted to know who she’d spent the evening with. Had a man been in her room? In this bed? “London, what plans?”
A small purr of sleep was his only answer. He looked at her through the darkness, her sweet lips close enough to kiss, each eyelash fanned out against her cheeks visible for counting. And it hit him that he’d never tire of looking at her face, studying the curve of her
cheek or the arch of her brow.
An irrational need for answers rose within him to the point that he wanted to demand them.
And that was a problem.
…
London slid her palm along firm, warm skin and smiled. This was her favorite kind of dream, a warm body, slow caresses, and no need to rush. She hoped she never woke up.
“If you slide your hand any lower, I’m going to take it as an invitation.”
The silky rumble of a Catalan accent penetrated her brain. Her fingers playing along his waistband froze, then her hand slapped flat in embarrassment.
“Umph! Easy now.”
Hard abs tightened to rows of ridged muscle under her hand. Slowly, she lifted her head to find very interested caramel eyes looking back at her. Reality smacked front and center, and she wracked her brain in a panic, trying to remember anything past the third barhop last night.
That’s what she got for drinking on very little sleep and after such a hard workout with the hotel trainer. She stretched her legs against the soreness until they bumped into the wall of blankets between her and Mateu. He lay on top of the comforter fully clothed while she was snuggled underneath—though her head had somehow found its way to his chest, and her hand had found its way beneath his untucked shirt. That was on her.
She peered under the sheets. She was in nothing but her panties and bra. “So…”
“Good morning.” He didn’t push, didn’t tease, just gave her time.
“Did we—?” She tried to manage the horror on her face, but she sure as shit didn’t want to sleep with someone and not remember it.
He bent his knee, then pushed, effectively rolling her onto her back with him on top of her like a very warm, delicious blanket. Hell, he was all around her.
“Let me make one thing very clear, my beautiful friend. If we’d made love, there’d be no question. And you’d remember it until the day you died. That is a promise.”
She held his gaze, but every inch of her bare skin was supremely aware of his heat through the bed linens and the growing hardness pressing down between her legs. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anyone or anything before—even the killer heels she’d had to return.
To even the playing field, she gave him a saucy wink. “It had better be. I wouldn’t want to be disappointed.”
Disappointment was in the knowledge that day would never come. She couldn’t sleep with him, knowing the game he was playing. But damned if he wasn’t growing on her. His humor, his flirting, the way he made each experience personal and meaningful.
But that was also part of the problem. She didn’t know what was real. Unfortunately for her, the feelings peeking through each day she spent with him sure were. She had to remember to keep him at a distance. Somehow.
Whoever quoted the saying “play with fire and you get burned” could suck it. And she chastised herself for the hundredth time all the same. Playing with fire didn’t scare her, she simply needed the right safety gear.
He flashed a quick grin at her, then slowly lowered his head.
In a panic, she slid from under him. “No way.”
With a look of determination, he reached for her hand. “London.”
His voice and the look in his eyes shot straight through her with such excitement, she almost jumped him right then and there, but self-preservation prevailed. Short wisps of memory of the night before surfaced, and her heart turned over in her chest. Why was being honest with herself so hard? The truth was, her feelings were becoming more and more difficult to control. Especially after doing something as generous, as caring, as he had last night.
She paused at the foot of the bed, biting her lip. “You stayed with me.”
A wariness deepened the lines around his eyes, and he pushed up to lean against the headboard, crossing his wrinkled slacks-covered ankles. “You didn’t want to be alone. And I didn’t have the heart to leave you.”
She looked down at her bra. “And I stripped.”
He cleared his throat and glanced away. “We didn’t. I wouldn’t—”
“Mateu. No, I didn’t mean that. I am just the worst drunk sometimes.” She tried to will the heat from her face.
He made jokes, he’d been playing her from the moment they’d met, but there was no denying the kindness in his actions. And that made him more dangerous than ever. Who was Mateu Espasa? A man with a strong sense of duty to his family, or a sexy millionaire player with probably more notches on his belt than room allowed? A man who manipulated people into giving him what he wanted for his own gain?
Or a friend who stayed with her through the night because she was sick and tired of always sleeping alone, of always traveling alone, of always living life without a partner?
What would it be like to spend time with him, to get to know the real him, without the games and lies and setups? “Thank you. For staying.”
He dipped his chin but didn’t say anything else.
She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to take a shower, and then I have some things to do today.”
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his heated gaze skimmed with interest along her skin from her toes to her hairline. “Are you sure you’re all right being alone right now? I’ll be glad to keep you company if you still want someone around.” His teasing tone broke the tension, and she smiled.
And then panicked, because for a fraction of a moment, she’d seriously considered what he’d just offered.
“You can’t. I have to hurry.” She grabbed her cell from her clutch to check the time. “I have to get to an appointment, and there is no way I’ll even go if you stay here.”
“All the better.” He stepped toward her.
She looked for some sort of deterrent until her eyes fell on the coverlet that hung half off the bed. With one smooth motion, she scooped it up and threw it at his chest.
He effectively caught it, then let it drop to the ground. Stepping over it, his lips settled into a decidedly mischievous line as he continued closer.
She couldn’t tell if he was really serious, or if this was just another game of cat and mouse. She did not like being the mouse.
As a last-ditch effort, she tossed her phone at him. His eyes grew wide as he reached out to grab it in pure reflex, and she used the opportunity to slip into the bathroom and close the door.
“I can’t believe you just ran.”
She opened the door just enough to peek through with one eye. “You are not to be trusted, Mateu Espasa. Not with that damn accent and sexy-as-sin body. Now go.”
His laugh was rich and full and made her smile. On a sigh, he tucked in his shirt. “You’re the one who stripped, then demanded I stay with you.”
There was no denying or arguing with that charge. Only gratitude, so she remained silent.
“I have a surprise for you this afternoon,” he added.
Her Barcelona plans were chosen for a reason. She really didn’t have time for anything else. As it was, she felt like she’d been in the hotel more than she’d been out of it. Something she was used to with her job, but this wasn’t just work, it was her vacation. One she wouldn’t get another chance at for a long time. If ever. “I really can’t; my time is already half up.”
“I promised you a vacation of a lifetime. This can’t be missed. I’ll pick you up at one.” Grabbing his jacket, he slipped through her door without waiting for an answer.
She had to go poolside to rate the area, service, and any extra amenities, then test the concierge services. Only then could she head back to her room to inspect the care that would go into setting it right for her return; were the towels refreshed, the toiletries renewed? With just a little over four hours, that didn’t leave her much time. She grabbed her cell from the bed where Mateu had tossed it. She’d missed a call from her mom, but it was the middle of the night over there now.
Flipping through her texts, she found a few from her mother. She’d missed them in her vermouth-soaked evening.
> Mom: In the hospital with an upper respiratory infection.
Don’t worry. I’ll try for a discharge ASAP.
Susan came, even with everything she has going on, and Margo are with me. Margo has offered to help with a small loan.
It’s something to think about.
I’ll call you tomorrow.
Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe, and the absurdity of her situation smacked hard. While she was enjoying the delicious amenities of Barcelona, her mother was struggling to keep her MS in remission, and London’s best friend was by her mother’s side, where London should be. Upper respiratory infections were notorious for triggering a relapse.
Don’t worry, like hell.
Not to mention the hospital stay would cut into their budget even further. There was no way they were taking money from Margo. She would figure this out.
As it was, the money she was saving through the little game with Mateu, plus the money she would make for the inspection, would buy her a few months, but it was only a Band-Aid until she figured out something long-term.
What the hell was she going to do? She owed her mother so much.
London: Everything will be fine.
Tell Margo thank you, but we won’t need it.
Concentrate on getting better.
I love you.
There was a measure of comfort, at least, knowing she wasn’t alone. Margo had been Alanna’s best friend since grade school. She was the one who’d warned her about what a jerk London’s father was before they’d ever gotten married. But, as with most relationships, Alanna had to see it for herself.
So, just before her due date, she’d returned home to find her things gone save for the couch and a Post-it that said, “I can’t do this.” Then she’d finally seen the man she’d fallen in love with for who he really was. The hundred-dollar bill by the note was the biggest slap in the face, considering the asshole had emptied their joint bank account and took off to the coast with a new girlfriend. Apparently one of many.
Her mother had suffered enough lying and cheating to last a lifetime.
The more time London spent with Mateu, the more she enjoyed herself, and the more she hated that he was using her and that she was playing him right back. Especially now that she knew he’d been a victim himself. A faceless image of the woman who used to be his fiancée flashed in her mind, and she gritted her teeth.
