by MK Meredith
There was a challenge in his eyes, and it left her feeling a bit jumpy. “Maybe it was my plan.”
“Your plan to seduce me into having sex with you by making me wine and dine you?” He raised a disbelieving brow. “I think that’s the least likely scenario, though regardless I’m happy with the outcome.” He dropped one hand and pivoted to walk next to her, but his tone was tight and his teasing forced.
“So, you never did tell me. How did you see that little snip setting me up at the train station?” she asked.
Picking up a spiral shell at his feet, he chuckled. “You are full of questions today.”
“I’m just trying to remember every moment. This has been the best vacation I’ve ever had. One I needed to take before my body gave out on me. I don’t want to forget anything, so understanding it all helps make it stick.” It was hands down the best vacation—not to mention the only real one—she’d ever had. So if she was ever going to go big, this was it.
He still hadn’t answered her question. She scanned the sand, looking for a conch shell as she went, trying to hide her disappointment. She wouldn’t collect a bunch of shells if the environment really was in danger—unless she came across a conch shell; then all bets were off. How else was she to hear the ocean once she was back home in Chicago?
Mateu handed the spiral shell to her. “Total coincidence. I’d just come in myself for business, like I told you.”
“So you did.”
A beachgoer walking a ways in front of them broke the number one nude beach rule to pick up something from the sand. Never bend over with a wide stance.
London abandoned her line of questioning and slapped her hands over her eyes. “Oh my God.” She tried to keep her squeal to a whisper.
Mateu spun her around, laughter bright in his eyes. “Not what you were expecting?”
She giggled. “This view is much better.”
His gaze heated. “How much more naked sunbathing do you need before I can take you back to your room?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he looked like he regretted them. As if fighting a battle only he could see.
She sobered quickly. “We can’t let that happen again.”
He stepped in to her and whispered in frustration. “The way you were looking at me, I’d bet my next month’s salary that certain areas of your body are primed…for me specifically.” But then he lightly shook his head with the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Naked old man notwithstanding.”
“Oh!” She slapped her hands over her eyes again with a groan. “You’ve cured me from ever wanting sex again.”
“I feel like that’s a challenge.” He grabbed her hand, then pulled her back toward their blanket.
Only to find sand instead of their clothing.
“Fill de puta!” Mateu ground out.
“What?” She looked around, trying to remember where they had been lying.
“Damn dippers took our clothes.”
“What?!” Every nightmare she had about showing up at school naked slammed into her brain at once. She could not be stranded in public with no clothes. What the hell was wrong with people?
All the openness her mom had taught her flew out the window in light of not having anything to cover herself up with. “Oh my God. How are we going to get back?”
Mateu looked around then barked a few words in Catalan to a couple sunbathing nearby. They merely shrugged and shook their heads no.
“Okay.” He looked up and down the beach. “My driver should be in the parking lot. I’ll go wave him down, then bring his jacket back for you.”
She stared at him. He would do that for her? Maybe she was seeing the real Mateu. Maybe…
Reality provided a quick slap to her face. No, it all made sense. Saving the day, being a hero, could very well be part of his plan.
Besides, she didn’t need rescuing.
She shook her head. “No, if you’re going, I’m going.”
His eyes shot wide. “No way. I will not have you gawked at.” The sincerity in his voice had her bouncing back and forth.
“I’m going with you.” The idea that just maybe he was being sincere, and the fact he’d go alone and save her the humiliation, meant a lot to her. Maybe he was playing her when it came to her work, but maybe, just maybe, he did feel something for her?
She joined him in scanning the beach for possible solutions. “What about that beach umbrella over there? You could offer them your watch.” She asked with a sheepish shrug.
With a look of mourning, he slipped his watch from his wrist. “I love this watch. It was my gift to myself when I landed my promotion at…” He shook his head. “It might work.”
Guilt crept its way up the back of her neck. “Maybe we could just ask them for their towels? They shouldn’t need your watch for that.”
“Well, we won’t know unless we ask.” He pulled in a breath. “It’s amazing how naked you feel when you have to go tell someone you have no clothes.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled out of her throat. “Isn’t it? Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She hooked her arm through his.
The couple he’d spoken to earlier was very kind and let them have one towel.
They discussed ways to use it and in the end settled on wrapping it about both of their waists. Mateu held it closed as well as he could while she covered her breasts with her hands. They made their way to the parking lot with an awkward gait and no shortage of laughter.
“This is the most ridiculous predicament I’ve ever been in,” she said with a grin.
He grunted. “I’ve been in and caused much worse.”
She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. Could he be talking about the predicament with her?
That was wishful thinking. The only way that would be considered a predicament was if he actually had feelings for her.
Chapter Fourteen
Mateu felt London’s eyes on him as if he was being lit by a spotlight. He’d caused much worse situations… What the hell was he thinking?
If she only knew.
Hòstia! Why was his tongue so loose? Maybe it was the fact he’d been faced with her delectable body, naked and warmed by the sun for the past few hours. His American friend was fearless, even if that fear was sprinkled with a bit of self-doubt. What woman would traipse back to a car naked? None he’d ever dated. If only she didn’t accept him funding her vacation so readily—even though part of it was technically Huntington Place, she didn’t know that. But more, if only their meeting hadn’t been based on a job, manipulated by his deceit.
He’d never had difficulty keeping his secrets close. However, around London he seemed to be an open book, and that was not conducive to what he needed to do, no matter how much he wished he didn’t have to.
That was new, too.
Working the job, getting what he needed to keep the hotel franchise moving, had never bothered him before. He rarely pushed beyond his personal ethics, but he was by no means timid when it came to business.
He just had to remember what he was fighting for.
With a teasing glint in her eye, she tugged ever so gently on the towel. “You are playing a dangerous game, my friend.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’m the one playing the game here.” The expression on her face was teasing and full of light. But her comments lately worried him.
Could she know? There was no way she would have anything to do with him if she did. That reality hit him with a swift punch of disappointment. She could never know.
“I bet you’re very, very good at games,” he said.
With thoughtful eyes, she replied, “You might be right.”
“My driver should be on the south side of the parking lot. Almost there.”
She crisscrossed her arms over her chest as he gripped the towel tighter at his hip.
“Now you know why we left our phones and wallets in the car. The dippers here are awful.”
“You knew this would happen?” She fell into step with him as nat
urally as if they’d choreographed it beforehand.
He laughed. “I didn’t know anything of the sort, but I usually never turn my back on my things.” Flexing his fingers at her hip, he continued, “You distracted me with your beautiful skin and those damn eyes that I can’t seem to get enough of.”
She looked up at him with a slight frown puckering her brow, then seemed to shake it off. “Please, you’re the distraction.”
He studied her hard. Why did it have to be this way with her? “Maleït.”
“I don’t know what you just said, but I agree.”
For his own piece of mind, he needed some distance. A lot more distance than her naked body pressed shoulder to hip along his. Scanning the lot for his driver, he squinted against the bright light of the sun. “There, over by the road.”
As carefully as they could, they tiptoe-ran toward the other side, grinning sheepishly as couples enjoyed their predicament. “I can’t believe they’re laughing at us.”
“I can. Locals know better than to get their things stolen.”
Crossing her arms tighter about her chest, they approached the car. His driver stepped out, with wide eyes and a wider grin. “Senyor.” He opened the door, but as they crossed the last expanse of hot asphalt, London stumbled. “Oh!”
One corner of the towel ripped from Mateu’s grip, leaving her completely bare in front of the Avinguda del Litoral at rush hour. Horns honked and shouts of appreciation drowned out the ocean waves and calls from the seagulls overhead.
“Oh my God!” she cried, dropping her hands from her chest and madly grabbing for the towel. With one quick yank, the only thing covering his untimely arousal was efficiently removed, leaving him in a raging full frontal before Barcelona.
“Merda!” Dashing toward the car, he yelled to his driver. “Get the door.”
Without waiting for London, he dove to safety away from the catcalls and intrusive cell phones that were either taking photos or shooting video. His stomach hurt so hard from laughing, and he couldn’t catch his breath.
London followed right behind him, but with the towel securely wrapped from her chest to thigh. “I’m so sorry.” Her apology reached him riding the crest of her laughter. “Seriously. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
The driver tossed in his coat, then closed the door. Mateu glared at her playfully in the dim, cool interior of the car. “Why don’t I believe you?” He handed her the coat and pulled the towel over his waist.
But her “thank you” was heartfelt as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of the oversize jacket. It was everything he could do to stay on his side of the seat when it would have felt so natural to pull her into his arms.
Checking his phone, he swiped through the screen to his notifications. Three missed calls from Huntington himself and two emails. He read through each, forcing himself not to punch his fist through the window as he read. He wanted to set up a meeting. That was never good.
If Mateu couldn’t get the job done, not only would he have to work part time from the central office, but he also worried that if the dip in performance wasn’t seen as a regional error Huntington could break ties with Espasa Orchards altogether. A tight, burning knot filled his chest. If it were just him on the line, it wouldn’t matter.
“Is everything okay?” London asked. “I mean, getting caught with your pants down in Barcelona notwithstanding.”
With a shake of his head, he forced his brow to relax. “But of course.”
“You look like you want to murder someone.” Then, tilting her head, she amended, “Or more like someone was murdered.”
She laid her hand on his forearm with a gentle shake. “Our little adventure wasn’t all that bad, was it?”
As they rolled to a stop, he nodded toward the hotel with a chuckle. It sounded hollow to his ears. “Not bad at all. My driver will take us to the back entrance and grab us robes.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” She withdrew something from her bag and pushed it toward him like a peace offering. “I have something for you.”
“Trying to buy my forgiveness for stranding me naked for all of Barcelona to see?”
“There are a million women out there singing my praises.” She teased, a salve to his soul.
He rolled his eyes, but he was willing to forgive anything at the knowledge of her naked in his car. He ran his fingers over the top of the simple white paper box as he adjusted to try to find a comfortable position in his tortured state. He carefully lifted the lid and inside found two brown glass bottles. “What’s this?”
“My mother loves experimenting with oils. It seemed fitting to share these with you, because the base is lemon. One is a rub for sore muscles, the other you add a drop of into a daily glass of water. They both help with inflammation. I thought your dad might be able to use them.”
To say he was touched was an understatement. The thought that went into such a sweet gift humbled him, and he stared at her unable to form words. She was too many things and, at the same time, he’d never get enough. “This is sweet and thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said softly, holding her bag like a shield in front of her body. “I guess our adventure is over for the day.” She sighed with a sad look in her eyes. “It might be time for me to finish my vacation on my own. You’ve been so lovely, but I’m keeping you from your work. Besides, I still have to find a Spaniard to kiss.”
She was having fun at his expense, because the way it turned his stomach was very real. Her charm and generosity, her intelligence and wit were his—at least in that primitive part of his mind that made him feel like he had any rights. But the truth was a stinging slap of wake-the-hell-up.
“Nonsense. Don’t think of it again. Besides, we can’t be finished yet. I have a special surprise set up this evening, and don’t forget the private Picasso Museum tour. I’ve already told my cousin we’re coming.”
He had no right to expect anything from her. Not really. Not her loyalty, not her company, certainly not gifts.
And it shouldn’t bother him who she spent time with or how.
The truth was a bitter pill to swallow because it did, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Not with the hotel’s rating status threatening his family’s livelihood, not with so much on the line.
Holding her gaze, only one thought filled his mind.
But he had to try.
Chapter Fifteen
London wanted to challenge every getting-ready montage ever created, because after what she’d just been through, she’d take home the gold. She had areas of her body waxed that she never knew existed. Though she had a permanent “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging from her most nether regions, the German lady with the wax and little wooden stick apparently couldn’t read English. Because it was gone.
All.
Gone.
She gave a little wiggle in the shower, amazed by how easily her skin slid against itself. Even the hairs of her hairs had been yanked from her body. She was so smooth her clothes would be in grave danger of slipping right off.
Maybe that would help distract Mateu from the fact she’d been playing him all along. She winced. The thought sounded so much worse than it had seemed at the time.
Regardless, her fingers were crossed.
She’d take all the help she could get.
After such a beautiful day at the orchard yesterday and at the beach today, her decision to tell him about knowing his plan and using it to have her dream vacation became more important than ever. She had only three days to finish seeing Barcelona, to be with Mateu, then on Tuesday she was on a plane back to reality. Spending time with him and his family showed her how much love there could be, and how much she wanted to be a part of that love. She couldn’t expect him to confess to her if she wasn’t willing to confess to him.
Maybe if she went first.
Maybe then they could start fresh.
Stepping out of the shower, she admired both her new pedicure and manicure. Her document
ation requirements for work loomed over her head, but at least the actual analysis was completed. She’d get to the rest later. And she had a lot to say. Huntington Place went above and beyond. Even when Mateu wasn’t by her side.
A dozen lotions, creams, and balms later, she fluffed her hair, then completed the last swipe of her lip gloss. She wasn’t preparing for battle, she was preparing for victory.
At eight p.m. sharp, a knock sounded at her door.
Mateu was annoyingly punctual. Even when she tried to get to their meeting place early, she’d find him there patiently waiting. One of these days she’d beat him to the punch. If there was a one-of-these-days.
She swung open the door, and the first thing she noticed was the bright intensity of determination in his gaze. “You look stunning.” He breathed the last word out, reaching for her, but then he hesitated, letting his hand lower to his side.
Suddenly her whole plan seemed foolish and self-destructive. Especially when he wasn’t even willing to touch her. But with all her irrational hopes for a future between them fueling her momentum, she straightened her shoulders.
What she wouldn’t give for one more kiss.
One more chance to taste him, feel him, memorize him with every stroke of her tongue.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to miss our reservation,” he said.
“I’m okay with that.” The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them, and she pressed her lips closed.
His low chuckle reverberated through her. “I would be, too, except I paid a pretty penny for the finest seats in the house. You did make me promise to give you the best Barcelona had to offer, didn’t you?”
The space between her shoulders tightened painfully, and she drew back. Maybe she should just tell him now. “Do you want to come in? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sounds serious. But save it for dinner. You’re going to love this place.” He offered his arm as she closed the door behind them. “There are only five tables. I procured all of them. We will have the place to ourselves and can visit the kitchen to watch the chef anytime we want. It is beyond anything you’ve ever experienced before. So much so, you didn’t even know to put it on your agenda. Kind of like kissing a Catalan.”
