‘Hey, watch it.’ I take a large mouthful of the wine. ‘You’re not so hot on the commitment front yourself, are you?’ I wince. ‘Sorry,’ I rush. She’s been in love with my oldest brother Tom for years, since a heated kiss on her fifteenth birthday caused mayhem and havoc in both our families. It almost ended our friendship when he rejected her. We don’t talk about it but I’ve always known he’s part of the reason she’s never had a serious relationship. Maybe one day it’ll work out between them. If anyone deserves a happy ending it’s Jess. ‘Besides,’ I switch subjects, ‘you’re forgetting Nick. He wasn’t my usual type and that didn’t work out.’
‘Yeah, he was a banker rather than an artist or musician, and a real man’s man. But he was also an ass who only wanted a trophy girlfriend. That was never going to be you. You’re too intelligent for a start.’
‘Doesn’t feel like it at the moment. Anyway, stop trying to get on my good side just because you’re losing the argument.’
‘I’m not! We’ve been friends for over twenty years, and you can be pretty annoying, I’ll give you that—’
‘Hey.’
‘But you do have some good qualities.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
Jess sniggers. ‘Pleasure. So, what’s he like apart from not your usual type but gorgeous?’
Maybe if I just focus on the negatives. ‘Arrogant, cynical, defensive and sexist. Oh, and stubborn. Entrenched in his views.’
‘Wow, that’s quite a list. And er, I hate to point it out Cee, but you’re not unfamiliar with the concept of stubbornness yourself.’
I cut across Jess, on a roll. ‘He fluctuates from distant one minute to laughing the next. You never know where you are with him. He’s also kind of old-fashioned. You know,’ another gulp of wine slides down my throat as if by magic, ‘complete sentence construction, wanting to carry my bags, not believing in employing female staff.’
‘Speaking the Queen’s English? Offering to help you? How dare he?’ she mocks. ‘Complete and utter bastard.’
I smile, knowing I’m caught out. ‘All right, perhaps I’m being a bit harsh but you can’t quibble the last one.’
‘That I get and it’s not acceptable.’ She pauses, mulling it over. ‘How old is he?’
‘Early thirties.’
‘Miss Caswell.’ The deep voice is unmistakable.
Flicking a quick look over my shoulder, I freeze. Of course Alex is standing right behind me. The pit of my stomach drops down to my toes. God knows how long he’s been there for. Oh, crap.
‘Still, he doesn’t sound that bad,’ Jess is still chatting away, ‘from the way you described how hot he is, I think I could overlook some of the rougher edges. Or possibly train him,’ she muses. ‘Maybe I should pop across Europe and check him out?’
‘Um, I’ll get back to you on that. Gotta go.’
‘Something wrong?’
‘You could say that. Speak later.’ Flipping my phone closed, I stand reluctantly. How much has he heard? Everything including my comment about Tony? Talk about incriminating. Talk about blowing my cover. It would be just my luck if he kicks me out of this classy hotel with no belongings and no money and I’m left stranded in Barcelona.
Taking a deep breath, I swivel around. ‘Alex. I didn’t realise you’d be down so soon.’
‘Obviously. So would I have overheard the entire character assassination if I’d arrived earlier?’
Phew, he probably didn’t hear me mention Tony. Then mortification singes my face as I realise what he has overheard. ‘I’m sorry.’ Screwing my face up, ‘Er, what exactly—?’
‘Arrogant and sexist were mentioned. Old-fashioned and cynical also featured.’
‘I’m so sorry. Is there any point in saying some people might take some of those as compliments, in particular the old-fashioned part? You know,’ I squeak, wishing I could vanish in a puff of black smoke, ‘as in traditional values? Moral fortitude?’
‘I might have done, because I don’t think there’s anything wrong in being polite or articulate, or being worried about something other than the latest fashions or music, but they didn’t sound like compliments the way you said them.’
‘No, I get that,’ I confess, squirming now, ‘but it was because … ’
‘Because?’
Because I was convincing myself not to like you. I can’t say so or the conversation will leap from humiliating to downright excruciating. ‘It doesn’t matter. I apologise unreservedly. There’s no excuse for it. I don’t suppose there’s any way we can move past this?’
‘It’s too late to get another temp,’ he confirms, and I hate his voice being so cool and rigid after the rapport we built in the suite, ‘so I’ll try to forget it, even though every word is indelibly engraved on my brain.’
‘I’m so sorry. Again,’ I offer quietly, feeling awful. I can’t believe I was so indiscreet. My head was just so all over the place I didn’t stop to think. Not my usual style at all.
‘Yes, well.’ He stares over my shoulder, jaw tensing. ‘Just forget it.’
There’s nothing else I can say and the silence quickly becomes unbearable, so I look around the room. What might be Catalan art hangs on the cream walls and lots of small square mahogany tables with clean lines are dotted around trendy brown leather and purple velvet sofas. The long, wide black bar is backlit by purple and red UV lighting, with metal high-backed stools grouped together, elegant square chandeliers hanging overhead. Full-length windows overlook the marina, the boats bobbing up and down gently on the calm sea.
Alex lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Shall we go through for dinner?’
‘Please.’ As I grab my almost-empty glass and clutch bag from the table, I stumble and Alex’s large hand shoots out to grab my elbow. I wrench it away, feeling like I’ve been branded, the heat of his fingers transmitting a tingling message through my skin straight to my tiny underwear. ‘Th–thanks.’
Turning around, I struggle to walk in a straight line, my knees are trembling so hard. Alex wordlessly follows and a young brunette waitress greets us at the entrance of the restaurant. Why do they all have to have such glossy dark hair? Not everyone has celebrity-shiny tresses, some of us mere mortals are challenged with hair that curls and waves and demands complete freedom, no matter what we might do to control it.
‘¡Hola! Table for two? Penthouse suite, si, Mr Demetrio?’
Alex nods and we trail after her as she sweeps through the packed room. The clink and tinkle of cutlery and the glow of lit candles mix with muted conversations to create a warm, welcoming atmosphere. Alex’s jacket brushes my bare arm as he walks beside me. I ignore the shiver it causes.
‘By the way,’ he says in a low voice, ‘I know I said we’d forget about it, but I do want to clarify one thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘I employ women.’ His sideways look says he’s disappointed with my assumptions. ‘I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the benefits of gender balance. Some of my best senior managers are female, which is why six of them sit on the Board.’
‘Out of how many directors?’
‘Ten.’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s only my executive assistant I insist is male. Not that I have to justify anything to you.’
‘Of course not.’ He’s defensive, but I can hardly blame him after what