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She regarded him with a glowing smile. “You’re wonderful company, and the food is delicious. I’m sorry if you’re so used to my chatter you worry when I’m quiet.”
“You don’t chatter. You are blunt at times, but you never chatter the way some women will if there’s even a second of silence, for which I am deeply grateful.”
Ana Santillan didn’t look like a chatterer to her, but she wasn’t going to speak the model’s name. “Not to change the subject, but what’s happened with the photos for the cologne ads? Shouldn’t they have sent you copies by now?”
“The shoot was only last week, but I’ll call the ad agency and ask when I can expect them.”
“Was that only last week?” She could hardly believe it. “Does time pass more slowly here than the rest of the world?”
He smiled gently. “Perhaps, but it’s only an illusion.”
Talk about an illusion, she thought. How many women were dining with rich, handsome matadors that night? Damn few. “You’re the best, Santos, you really are.”
“Thank you.” He saluted her with his wineglass and refilled hers.
She didn’t usually drink more than a single glass, but the rich red wine from a popular Spanish vineyard was especially good. “I can’t eat all my steak. Do you want the rest?”
He stabbed her portion with his fork and transferred it to his plate. “That might not be what books of manners recommend, but I really don’t care. I need the protein.”
“I agree.” She sat back and looked around the room at the other diners. One woman was looking their way, but she wasn’t holding a camera. “Do they have that great custard dish here?”
“The crema catalana? Yes, they do. Would you like some?”
“Please. I’d like to sit here for hours and eat it in tiny bites.”
He ordered it for her and some for himself. “Let’s take our time but return home before morning.”
The inviting gleam in his eyes made her laugh. “It’s nice when the house is empty except for us. I locked my door the first night I was there, but I haven’t bothered to since.”
He regarded her with a sly smile. “It’s my house. Didn’t it occur to you that I’d have all the keys?”
Startled, she stared at him. “No, and that was truly
lame, wasn’t it? Of course you’d have the keys. I’ll remember to jam a chair under the doorknob the next time I’m a guest in someone’s home.”
He frowned slightly. “Whom are you planning to visit?”
“Other than you, no one, but it’s always good to have a plan.”
“I’m all for plans,” he assured her.
She ate her dessert in tiny bites, as she’d promised. “This is so good. I’d love to be able to make it when I get home. There just hasn’t been time to ask Tomas for his recipes.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” he suggested.
She regarded him with a suggestive smile. “I hate to think about tomorrow, when there’s so much left of tonight.”
Santos couldn’t hold her arm with his crutches, and she had to make a concerted effort to walk straight as they left the restaurant. She did all right until they got into the backseat of his SUV, and then she couldn’t stop giggling. It was a low, musical sound, and Santos laughed as he hugged her close. By the time they got home, she walked with only a gentle sway, but she pulled Santos toward the stairs.
“I don’t want anything more tonight except you.” She kicked off her shoes and clung to the banister as she started up the stairs. “Wait, you need help, don’t you?”
“Manuel will be back after he puts away the car. Go on up to your room.”
When she got there, she went into the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. Santos was just too damn good in bed for her not to be wide-awake to enjoy it. She brushed her teeth, donned the lavender gown and brushed out her hair.
Santos knocked lightly before coming in. He wore only a black silk robe knotted loosely at his hips. He dropped his crutches and moved to the foot of her bed. “Come here.”
She set her brush on the dresser, came over to the bed and knelt in front of him. She ran her hands up his thighs, and he caught her wrists. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
