Taken the Spaniard's Virgin

“If your job was to represent it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose I would.” He picked up the spray-on sunscreen and started to mist her with it. “You continually surprise me, Amber. It is a new experience for me with a woman.”

“You must be spending time with the wrong ones.”

“I think that is a given.” He winked.

Her heart stopped. Literally. And then started pounding so hard and fast, she felt light-headed. This man was so bad for her equilibrium. “I need to get back to work,” she said, only sounding a tiny bit breathless.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

She’d been surprised he hadn’t pushed the issue earlier, but the man knew his way around women. He’d given her time to think, time to decide if she wanted to see him some more. He’d dialed in right away that control was important to her and having time to make a decision would make her feel like she wasn’t losing it. His perception should worry her, but she was too busy experiencing new feelings.

Not just the desire that was such an incredibly different thing for her, but weird emotions, too. She really liked Miguel Menendez. He got to the heart of the woman that hid behind the plastic smile.

It was both scary and very, very exhilarating.

“Okay,” she heard herself saying with a sense of fatalism that was also new to her. “But the shoot tomorrow starts before the cock crows. I need to be in my suite early.”

“I am happy to make sure you get to bed early if that is what you want.”

CHAPTER TWO

SHE’Dbe naive to think he meant anything innocent by that remark and she might be inexperienced, but she was far from naive. She frowned accordingly.

But that only made him smile. “You are cute when you are trying to look angry.”

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her cute. Not since she was a child…before she developed the poised bearing of a professional model. It was strangely endearing. Too much about this man got to her in ways that were risky for her peace of mind.

“Believe me, when I’m trying to look mad…I do.”

His dark brow rose in mocking amusement. “If you say so.”

“Don’t make the mistake of patronizing me.” She drank from her bottle of chilled water.

“I would not.”

“I’m no pushover, Miguel.”

“This I have no difficulty believing.”

That made her feel a little better. “I need to get back.”

“I will pick you up at six for an early dinner.”

“I didn’t know any restaurants served dinner that early around here.”

“I will take care of it.”

She supposed billionaire tycoons got fed wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. “Okay.”

Then he’d let her get back to work, but he hadn’t left.

The photographer called an end to the shoot and Miguel was there with a floor-length, long-sleeved, light cotton white robe that would protect her from the sun instantly. She wondered vaguely where it had come from, but didn’t hesitate to pull it on. Her skin didn’t need the baking rays of the sun on it any longer than absolutely necessary.

Her flawless, youthful complexion was one of her trademarks.

The photographer winked at her before leaving. The ad design manager smiled at her and nodded toward Miguel before he, too, left. At least neither man seemed angry she’d caught the attention of the mogul. On the other hand,was that a good thing? Were these people so used to seeing Miguel make a play for their ad models that they took it in stride?