Behind him a wave splashed loudly against the rocks and, aware suddenly of his own stillness and silence, he cleared his throat. ‘I decided to come back early…’
He hesitated. Having started to speak he now realised that not only did he not have a reason for coming back ahead of schedule—or at least not one he was prepared to share with Cristina—he also hadn’t considered the possible interpretations of his change of heart.
‘I was planning on meeting with some potential investors tomorrow, only my team are still working on the pitchbook so—’
He broke off as Cristina looked up at him blankly. ‘What’s a pitchbook?’
‘A pitchbook is a presentation we give to investors. It outlines the firm’s strategy, its principles, performance and terms of investment.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Watching her nod slowly, he gritted his teeth. For some reason he wished that they hadn’t started talking about work. Maybe it was because he was wearing swimming shorts, not his suit, or perhaps it was just that—weirdly—it didn’t seem that important right now. Either way, he knew that he wanted to make it clear to her that his life wasn’t all meetings and memos.
His eyes met hers. ‘And, of course, I wanted a swim.’
‘You did?’ Her chin jerked up, brown eyes widening with surprise.
‘Is that such a shock?’
He held her gaze, and it was as if a pulse beat in the air between them.
Cristina blinked. ‘Well, yes…kind of. I mean, I haven’t seen you out of a suit since I arrived. I just thought maybe you didn’t do beaches or swimming or getting wet.’
She glanced furtively at the line of fine dark hair disappearing into his shorts, trying not to remember what lay beneath.
‘I got pretty wet in Segovia,’ he said quietly. ‘Or have you forgotten?’
No, she hadn’t forgotten. Remembering how he’d stripped off his sodden T-shirt in her bedroom, she felt her pulse began to beat out of time.
Shaking her head, she waited for her heart to slow before she replied. ‘Not at all.’
A warm breeze was catching the ends of her hair and grateful for the chance to distract herself—and him—from the conversation, she ducked her head.
Grabbing the wayward curls, she said, as casually as she could manage, ‘I’m sorry for interrupting your swim. I just needed a run, and… Anyway, I’ll get out of your way—’
For a moment she thought he was simply going to nod and walk back to the pool, but instead he stared at her in silence, his grey eyes fixed on her face.
‘Why did you need a run?’ he said finally.
Her throat tightened.
Good question.
Unfortunately the answer was not so straightforward.
Her mouth felt dry and, stalling for time, she shrugged. ‘I don’t know… It’s so beautiful here, and I like running.’
Luis stared at her. His question had been innocuous enough, and yet she looked not just startled but dismayed.
‘It is very beautiful,’ he said slowly. ‘And I’m glad you like running. But that doesn’t answer my question. Why did you need to run?’
Cristina felt a familiar panic rising inside her. Her ribs seemed to be closing, so that it hurt to breathe. How was she supposed to answer him? One thing was certain: it wouldn’t be with the truth. She could just picture his face changing, pity overshadowing his curiosity as quickly as a cloud blotting out the moon.
And yet his voice was gentle. ‘I run too. Back in California. I have a house by the beach, and when I can’t sleep I go for a run there.’
The painful sensation beneath her ribs was fading.
‘I run to escape.’