LITMIR.BIZ

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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 he overheard.

      We come to a beautifully laid table by the window overlooking the grand vista of Port Olimpic. It’s pretty, lights from passing boats shining and twinkling off the dark water, the rhythmic lap of waves against the jetties barely discernible.

      I gulp as we sit down. It’s exactly the kind of set up I’ve been dreading – intimate and romantic. I flick a wary glance at Alex. His total concentration is on the menu. I frown as I finish off my wine. The last thing I need is to get drunk and sloppy and let my identity slip too soon. No more alcohol tonight. Reaching for a glass of water, my hand twitches and knocks it over, and I watch in horror as it sends a cascade of good old H20 directly towards Alex. But he’s quick, pushing back from the table like his chair is on wheels.

      I jump from my seat, grabbing a napkin. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t get you, did I?’

      He stands, waving a hand to someone behind me for assistance. ‘Luckily for me, no.’

      My gaze drops to his trousers to check and I move towards him, hand extended reflexively to mop up.

      He grabs my wrist before I reach my target, ‘I said you missed, Charley.’

      ‘Yes, of course. S–sorry,’ I stutter as he releases my arm. Was I really just about to rub his crotch? Dear God. Sloping back to my chair, I wish I could slide under the table and hide, especially when not one, but two members of staff arrive to sort out the mess I’ve made. My face starts to burn. I’ve always been clumsy but today I’ve hit a new record; the water in the plane, almost falling over in the bar, and now attempting to give Alex a shower and rub him down. I should come with an Official Government Warning: Spending time with this girl may be bad for your health/clothes/sanity.

      The staff leave, taking away everything bundled in the fine linen tablecloth. People are staring, but Alex is consulting his phone, so I bury my nose in the menu. The waitress returns, laying out a new tablecloth and placing cutlery, napkins and crystal glasses out precisely. She gives me a small reassuring smile when I peek over the top of the leather-bound booklet. ‘Thank you. Sorry.’

      ‘No problem, madam. It has happened before.’ She moves away, distracted by the next diner needing attention.

      ‘Now the drama’s over,’ Alex tucks his phone away, face taut, ‘shall we order?’

      ‘I apologised. It was an accident.’

      ‘I know. So have you decided?’

      ‘No. I need a minute.’

      ‘If you must.’

      My teeth snap shut. He hasn’t forgiven me for my comments. Fingers gripping the menu, I focus on reading. Despite my turmoil I’m impressed by the delicious selection of Mediterranean dishes with international influences. ‘It all looks fantastic,’ I murmur finally. ‘I think I’ll have the carré de cabrito glaseado a la miel con setas.’

      ‘Rack of honey-glazed meat with mushrooms?’ Alex translates fluidly. ‘I love a woman who’s not afraid to eat properly.’ He shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’

      ‘It’s fine.’ Waving his apology away. I can hardly criticise his behaviour when I’m so confused – and horrified – by my own.

      Taking a breath, he neatly changes direction. ‘Have you been to Spain before? Your accent isn’t bad.’

      ‘Thanks. I took Spanish at school.’ I also handled occasional calls from international clients when at the casino, so I’m not as rusty as I might be.

      ‘Not French?’

      ‘Most of my friends took that.’

      ‘And you didn’t want to take the obvious choice.’

      ‘Guess not.’ I notice again the clarity of his blue eyes and the laughter lines that bracket his mouth.

      ‘It doesn’t surprise me.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘At the risk of backlash, you’re quite strong-minded. You don’t seem like the kind of person to shy away from going your own way. You were probably about eleven if it was the first year of secondary school,’ he pauses and I nod, ‘and there would’ve been peer pressure to take the same language as friends, but you didn’t.’

      Alex’s stare is unnerving. Is there something stuck to my face? Before there’s a chance to check, or ask him what his remark means, a waiter appears at my elbow. ‘You order first,’ Alex nods.

      ‘Thank you.’ I reel off my order and focus on picking up my iced water without incident, as Alex orders in Spanish just as well as I did. While drinking, I clock a glamorous blonde at the next table checking Alex out. She’s dining alone and has no shame about who the target of her interest is. I get the feeling that if I wasn’t sat here she’d be in my chair right now starting a conversation with him. She catches me looking and I glare at her, then wonder why. It’s nothing to do with me.

      ‘So.’ The waiter retreats. I set my water down, hiding a smile when Alex eyes my glass warily. ‘How come

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