“I do, but last week I had to take my father’s place at a charity auction, and I don’t do well when I’m forced into a tux.”
He had to be talking about the event she’d attended, but she hadn’t seen him there. She wondered if he’d noticed her, or rather, Ana Santillan. “A tux is nothing compared to what women have to suffer through to look good for a black-tie event.”
“It’s not the tux that’s the problem. It’s having to sit with strangers and make idle conversation.”
“That is a strain.” She focused on the menu and then glanced over the top. “Couldn’t you use some investors for your low-cost housing project?”
“I could, but an auction to benefit sick kids isn’t the right place to pitch my ideas.”
She rubbed her toe along his calf. “I understand. I’ll bet you look very handsome in a tux.”
He laughed and set his menu aside. “You are different tonight, and it’s not just your clothes. You didn’t say more than a couple of words the first time we met. This afternoon is an incredible blur, and tonight you sound as though we’d just met.”
“I don’t mean to disappoint you.” She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “The sex was great, but it takes a while to get to know someone, and I haven’t been out on a date in a while.”
“Bad breakup?”
She took a deep breath. Santos didn’t deserve a comment, but his father did. “The man I loved died.” She didn’t confide that Miguel would undoubtedly be the love of her life.
He looked horribly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that we seemed so close this afternoon, and…”
She reached across the small table for his hand. “Don’t apologize. We do get along well. The people who know me know, and it’s no secret. He had a weak heart, and his death wasn’t unexpected.”
“I’m still sorry I asked. I ride in bike races—not the Tour de France, but amateur competitions—and I’m fit. I can give you a health certificate from my physician if you like.”
“Thank you, but no.” He was so sincere, and other than one overwhelming truth, she was giving him only a thin veneer of her life. She felt only a snippet of guilt and clung to the fun of the moment.
“We’re supposed to be thinking about food.” He gave the menu a quick glance, and when their waiter returned, he ordered the filet mignon, and she asked for a spring-vegetable-filled empanada. “Tell me about the chef your mother married.”
Grateful for his curiosity, she sat back and relaxed. “Andre is short, round and makes the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted. If my mother hadn’t seen him first, I might have married him myself.”
“I could learn to cook.”
He looked as though he’
d make the effort, and he’d been such a giving lover, she wished they’d met while she was being herself. “I think you ought to focus on architecture.”
“I’ll be finished in June. I’ll never be finished really, because there will always be something more, or new, to learn.”
“Like photography, but the continuing challenge is good.”
Their conversation flowed so smoothly she was surprised by how quickly the evening passed. She ordered a lemon tart for dessert as an excuse to stay longer. “I love these. They have the sweetest zing.”
“So do you.” He took a bite of an apple baked in a flakey crust. “This is good too. We could order after-dinner drinks and stay until this place closes. Or we could go to your place and check on the kittens.”
Her home, with some of her magazine covers framed in her bedroom, was definitely off-limits until he knew who she was. “Not tonight. I have an early job, and…”
“I understand. I have an early class. But I could just look at the kittens. Then if you don’t find someone to take them, maybe I could keep them at my place while you’re on Mallorca.”
His generosity made her feel all the worse. “Thank you. I’ve just realized Fatima will be back tomorrow, and she can care for them while I’m away.”
“If you have her, then you can keep them,” he suggested.
The man definitely had a point. “I don’t really want to, Alejandro.”
He nodded. “May I give you a ride home?”
“It isn’t far.”