His brows dipped in disbelief. “You want to talk about architecture?”
“Why not? I’m curious, and you’re an expert, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “The Moors had superb craftsmen who built with local stone, and their measurements were so accurate that once built, their structures will stand indefinitely. If Spain were a country with frequent earthquakes, all we’d have now would be intriguing rubble, but the ground here is solid.”
“There’s no difference between one architect and another, though, is there?”
“No, they all combined the same elements. Now we can build whatever we want, or whatever we can convince someone to pay to build, but my little boxes won’t last seven hundred years.”
“They’re meant as family homes, so they won’t have to,” she assured him.
He finished his beer and set the bottle aside. “Now I’m curious. Why do you go around in a Goth disguise?”
She smiled and hoped it would distract him until she could come up with an answer that made sense. “It’s just fun. I work in advertising where we often make one thing look like another. On Sundays, it’s fun to disappear into someone else, and it doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“I suppose not, but if there had been another table with a vacant chair at El Gato, I would have taken it and missed knowing you.”
“A tragedy,” she replied flippantly, but the possibility truly saddened her.
“For me, if not for you,” he insisted.
She reached for his hand and gave him a quick squeeze. “Truthfully, for me too. One of the models who went to Palma is looking for a man with substance. She’s not talking about money, but good character, someone really worth knowing. You’re in that category, but I won’t introduce you.”
He looked at her askance and scoffed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever impressed a girl with my character.”
His skeptical expression told her much more than he’d meant to. “Maybe you’ve met the wrong women.”
“You could say that.” He caught her hand before she could pull away. “I want to take you out, go places, do things. We don’t need to stay here.”
“Out,” she repeated softly. “I love holding hands in movies. Do you like that?”
“Of course. I still want to take you to the port.”
“That’s always fun. But we needn’t go anywhere until you’re better.”
“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night. Let’s go to dinner again. Let me pick the place this time.”
“Do you know someplace quiet, out of the way? Someplace tourists never see. I want to be able to talk the way we did last Sunday.”
A slow smile slid across his lips. “Someplace romantic?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “If you like places with crowds and loud music, go with your male friends.”
“I don’t like crowds and loud music, and most of my friends are married now. We haven’t gone out looking for hookups with girls for a very long time.” He coaxed her onto his lap. “I love having you here, but I’m not some kid you have to blow each time you come in.”
She slid her fingers through the soft curls at his nape and widened her eyes in mock innocence. “You didn’t like it?”
“A dead man would have liked it, but I don’t want to stop there.” He kissed the line of her jaw, sucked her earlobe to make her giggle and gave her a long, slow kiss. “I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Later.”
“Will you tell me where you live so I can pick you up at your place?”
She rubbed her forehead against his. It was such a simple request and so natural a step she couldn’t say no. She could substitute Miro prints for her framed magazine covers and welcome him in. “I’ll give you my address when I leave. I’ll meet you downstairs and invite you to come in and see the kittens after dinner.”
“Fine.” He ran his tongue over her lower lip. “I’ve been dying to see the kittens.”
She laughed into his kiss. Everything about him felt good. She bet he had been gangly and awkward when he was a kid, but he’d definitely outgrown it. She ended the kiss to catch a breath. “I wanted to be ballerina. I actually had the talent, but by twelve, I was too tall. It was a huge disappointment.”