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“De nada.” His mouth curved into a pleased smile as he sat back down in his chair and lifted a churro to his lips.
She was entranced at his long fingers holding the sugary stick of dough, and then when his teeth flashed white as he bit into it.
Desire raced through her, sending warmth low in her belly. She closed her eyes, stifling a groan. Heavens, how was it possible she wanted him again so soon? All Andrés was doing was eating a churro, for God’s sake.
Andrés said suddenly, “Did you have a chance to visit Girona while you were here during the summer?”
Chloe shook her head and picked up a cracker topped with a soft white cheese. “No, I saw Barcelona, which was incredible, and that was about it.” She nibbled on the cracker and cast him a sidelong glance. “Mostly I worked at your hotel.”
Until he’d had her fired… The words lay unspoken between them but she could’ve sworn she saw the faintest flash of regret in his eyes. Then it was gone and again replaced by that unreadable stare.
It still shocked her that she’d gone to bed with Andrés that first night, completely unaware of just who he was—that he’d owned the resort. She’d been oblivious to all the power, money, and prestige he had. Would it have made a difference had she known?
Possibly. She would have certainly tried to avoid him, because sleeping with a man of his magnitude could only get you in trouble. As she’d quickly learned.
But then, it may not have mattered even if she’d known who he was, because Andrés was quite determined when he wanted something. And if he’d persisted or kissed her…she would have been a lost cause.
“After breakfast I will show you Girona,” he promised. “The medieval city is not far from here.”
Her breath caught and she gestured to the window she’d peered out of yesterday. “Is that the city you can see from there?”
“Sí.”
Despite her vow to remember she was not in Spain willingly, her pulse quickened with excitement. She set down the rest of the cracker and pushed away her plate, full now. “But…don’t you have to work?”
His gaze turned lazy; he lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I have time for pleasure as well as business, Chloe. Today I choose pleasure.”
Her throat dried at his not-so-subtle implication.
“Can you be ready in an hour?” he continued.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Fine, then. I will meet you downstairs.” He stood and made his way toward the door.
“Wait, Andrés.”
He paused and turned to look back at her. “What is it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” she asked impulsively, wanting there to be no more misunderstandings between them. Wanting a clean slate.
He arched a brow and tilted his head. “Who I was?”
“Over the summer…when we first met. You never once hinted that you owned Diablo’s Paraíso and that I was under your employment.”
Andrés stilled and his expression became shuttered. “You knew who I was.”
“No, I didn’t. I’ve told you that I didn’t have a clue,” she said in exasperation. “Not until Señora Martinez told me and then proceeded to fire me.”
“Basta! There is no need for anymore lies, Chloe,” he said tersely, his expression dark as he strode back into the room. “You deliberately sought me out for your article. You set out to seduce me—”
“No,” she shouted vehemently. “If you want me to ever trust you, to try and make whatever is between us work, then you need to start believing me. I didn’t stage a near rape on the beach. I never set out to seduce you. Damn you, Andrés! You want the truth? Besides a brief boyfriend in college, you’re only the second man I’ve slept with.”
Andrés reared back as if she’d struck him. His face tightened and something dark flickered in his eyes, but she was on a roll and in no mood to stop.
“I was so drawn to you, it wouldn’t have mattered if you were the janitor of the resort. Did you ever even look at the diary you stole from me? The notes?”
“No,” he finally admitted. “I had them locked away.”
“Well, perhaps you should’ve. Maybe you’d stop thinking the absolute worst about me.”
A thick silence hung in the room, and she bit her lip, closing her eyes. Waited for his response.
Heavy footsteps fell, but they were retreating from her again. Her blood chilled and she struggled to breathe. Fear ran through her. Was he angry?
“Meet me downstairs when you’re dressed,” he said curtly, and then the door closed behind him.
Chapter 8
Andrés sat downstairs in his office, staring at the computer and the correspondences he knew he should reply to. But he couldn’t at the moment. He’d taken care of the most pressing issue, calling Pablo and asking his assistant to reschedule all his appointments for the next few days.
His gaze slid to the now-closed diary on his desk and he sighed. The weathered pages of the book and the scrawled notes she’d taken were no longer unread.
Pressing his fingers hard against his temples, Andrés shook his head. He could see now that any story Chloe had intended to write for the magazine likely had nothing to do with him, though there was no denying she’d considered including the story of the charming Spanish man she’d met on the beach.
It was not easy to come to grips with everything his assumptions had meant. He’d taken her trust. Her body—which she’d offered with absolutely no expectations…except perhaps to fall in love.
His lips curled in disgust and he let a low growl rip from his throat.
He’d destroyed the life she’d had in Spain and the life she’d managed to reassemble when she’d returned.
How the hell was he going to make this up to her? Was it even possible? He would have to. Dammit, but he needed to make her see how much she was coming to mean to him and how foolish he’d been.
He stared blindly out the large glass window of his office at the green hills beyond, trying to comprehend everything.
“Andrés?”
Tension coiled through his body and he turned to face the doorway where she stood. His heart twisted and he exhaled on a sigh.
She was an angel in a cinnamon-colored dress that accented her curves, a black cardigan over it. Her curls fell loose and shiny over her shoulders.
He lifted his gaze back to her face and flinched at the look in her eyes. There was regret, and yet a spark of pride remained. It also showed in the proud lift of her chin.
How had he ever mistaken her to be a skilled seductress whose only intent was to write a story about him?
“I’m sorry I swore at you,” she said hesitantly. “You’re upset.”
Andrés closed the lid to his laptop computer and stood from his desk, approaching her with a slow stride. He had to give her credit, she didn’t back up from his advance, though her eyes did widen slightly. “Yes, I am.” He reached her side and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her gently against him. “But I am upset with myself.”
Her breath hitched in response and she pressed the flat of her palms to his chest. “You are? Why?”
“For not realizing what a fool I was. I’m sorry, cariño.” He brushed a light kiss across her lips and reveled in her soft sigh. “You offered me so much more than your body. And I took it, never realizing just how very innocent you were.”
A familiar blush stained her cheeks; her lashes lowered.
He walked back to the desk and retrieved the diary and notes. “These belong to you.”
She glanced up in surprise, accepting the leather book with the notes tucked inside. Gratitude, raw and poignant, flickered across her face, and she gripped the book to her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes suspiciously damp.
“They were your parents,” he stated, still a bit amazed by that discovery. “The lovers in the diary.”
“Yes.” She bit her lip and gave a small nod, and for a moment naked grief reflected in her eyes. “They were. I was writing the article about them.”
This was a woman who’d already known pain. Suffering. And he’d only brought more upon her. He would make it up to her—he owed her that much.
“I’m so very sorry, Chloe. You were right. I should’ve read them earlier,” he said gently and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Come now. Girona awaits us.”
They left the restaurant, and Chloe glanced down at the large, tanned hand holding hers, giving a slight shake of her head in disbelief. Who was this man and what had he done with Andrés?
The day had been amazing. He’d been the perfect tour guide, showing her all the sites of Girona, and she was completely enchanted with the medieval city and fascinated by its history.
