One hand moved back and forth over the buttery leather, her fingertips tapping out a nervous beat.
“When I saw the dress, it hit me. I used to think I was inspired by the fairy-tale movies my mother and I used to watch together. But I wasn’t designing anything new.” She flopped back against the cushions, the drooping of her limbs speaking to her personal sense of defeat. “Plain. Uninspired. Been done before. Nothing that was me.”
The admission sounded torn from some deep dark place.
“You’re being hard on yourself.”
“Those aren’t my words. Those are some of the comments on the portfolios I submitted before the engagement party.”
Anger burned low in his stomach. He’d said similar things, and much harsher sentiments, in his career. Yet to hear that Anna had been subjugated to such bald and unforgiving commentary made him livid.
“Anna—”
She held up a hand. “Don’t make excuses. When I saw that dress, saw how similar it was to another design, it hit me. After I moved to Granada, I was so sheltered, so repressed, I could barely breathe sometimes. And yet... I let my aunt and uncle take care of me.”
“You were ten and you’d just lost your parents. Of course you should have let your family take care of you.”
“But I didn’t even fight it!” Frustration suffused her tone as she stood and started to pace. “I just let them treat me like a little girl for years. I’m twenty-seven now, and I just moved out on my own for the first time eight months ago. I didn’t do anything on my own, including my designs.”
Maldito, he could no longer take it, seeing her beat herself up like this. He crossed the room and stopped a few feet away, far enough to not touch her, but close enough to make his point.
“What about the gold dress?”
Her lips quirked. “The one I was wearing when I fell on you?”
“Sí.”
Pride brought her mouth up into a tentative smile. “It’s actually the first dress I did after the party. I reworked and reworked it so many times, afraid each draft was just another replica, but...”
“It was beautiful, Anna.”
She nodded, happiness brightening her eyes. “Thank you. It was, wasn’t it?”
Amazing, the strength in this woman who had been through so much and, when confronted with the publication of intimate details that would have made women of his acquaintance run for the hills, had instead reflected on how she could improve and seized the opportunity with both hands.
Her body was sexy. But her confidence, her determination...that was alluring in an entirely different and very dangerous way.
Before he could pursue the topic further, she shook her head.
“Sorry. How did I even start talking about that?” She plowed ahead before he could get a word in. “What’s the plan with this whole charade?”
He stepped back, putting both physical and emotional space between them. He wanted to know more, dig deeper. A sure sign that he needed to accept the chance to refocus on the business aspect of their arrangement.
“A few sojourns into town. Chances to be seen, photographed. A lunch here, a dinner there. Two weeks that will culminate in us being seen as an official couple at Alejandro and Calandra’s wedding in Marseille. I was thinking we could start off light tomorrow with a lunch at a seaside bistro.”
Something about their conversation had made her nervous. It was evident in her fingers tapping against her thighs, the tension in her neck.
“Something wrong?”
“What happened outside, the way you hugged me...is that going to be a regular thing?”
“Couples who are dating tend to hug and hold hands, yes.”
“You kissed me on the forehead,” she said almost accusingly.
The temptation to tease her proved too much to resist. “Would you have rather I kissed you somewhere else?”
She flushed and looked away, giving him a delicious view of her neck, the slightly gaping V of her dress that hinted at the curves of her breasts, barely visible in the dim light.