She twisted slightly to swing her full skirt. “I don’t know, can you?”
He pulled her into his room and lifted her off her feet in a welcoming hug. “Sit with me on the balcony and tell me about your life.” He took her hand to lead the way to the padded wicker chairs that matched those on the porch below. He waited for her to sit and pulled his chair close so he could still hold her hand. “You’re looking for Augustín’s memoir. What will be in yours?”
She crossed her legs and bounced her foot. “You’d definitely deserve more than a footnote, but up until now, my life’s been so predictable it wouldn’t make for entertaining reading.”
“Were you a happy child with a room painted pink and dozens of dolls?”
“No, I was the studious type with more books than toys. I was into nature, and my room was a pale green.”
He brushed his thumb across her palm. “I preferred books to my fellow inmates’ company and read every volume in the prison library. The prison doctor liked me and brought me bags of more books to read. Did you have nice friends, little girls as pretty as you?”
“I did have friends,” she assured him, without describing them as a cluster of brainy girls the popular crowd shunned. “I have two younger half sisters, and belonged to Girl Scouts, so I was seldom alone either at school or home.”
“Tell me a secret,” he whispered invitingly.
“I don’t know what it is you want to hear. I never met a Gypsy in Minneapolis, so my life was quite uneventful compared to now.”
“Then why would you want to go home?”
He had such a marvelous voice, and sitting together at night, he sounded even more seductive. For a moment, she forgot the question. “I own a nice condo and have a job I love. I never meant to stay here.”
“But you didn’t know what you’d find, so you could change your plans.”
She bit her lip rather than laugh. “Rafael, we met on Saturday, and it’s only Tuesday night. If you never plan more than a week ahead, why should I?”
With an easy lift, he scooped her up, carried her into his bed and dropped her in the center. He grabbed her foot and unbuckled her shoe. “You’re right. There’s only tonight, and I ought to concentrate on giving you something memorable for your memoir.”
She laughed and leaned back on her elbows. “You could try, I suppose.”
He bit her big toe but not hard enough to hurt. “Only try?”
She regarded him with an enigmatic smile. “You thrive on a challenge, don’t you?”
He unbuckled her other shoe, then pulled her off the bed and turned her toward her room. “Go hang up your new dress before I rip it off you.”
Not afraid of his teasing threat, she took her time sashaying out. She really liked him, yet she couldn’t help but hope her father deemed him unready for an Alternativa. The smaller the bulls he had to face, the better. She hung her dress in the closet and put on the lace-trimmed nightgown she’d brought along. The apricot shade lent her hair an auburn sheen, and the short length showed off her long legs. She always bought sexy lingerie, even if most of her dates weren’t lucky enough to see it.
She came back to his room, and he was still wearing his pants and standing out on the balcony. She rubbed her hand across his bare back. The warmth of his skin always felt so good. “This is such an isolated spot.”
“Yes, but the stars are bright away from the city. Most things have two sides.”
“A plus and a minus? Maybe. There’s no downside to being handsome, is there? Have any agents approached you to model or be in films?”
He took her hand to return to his room. “What sort of films?”
She kissed away his questioning smirk. “Not those kind. Real films with good stories.”
“I’m no Javier Bardem.”
She crawled up on his bed. “I don’t know; you have a wide variety of expressions and a wonderful deep voice. I think you’d be good in whatever role you played.”
He unzipped his pants and tossed them over the chair. “I
’m already good at what I do.”
“You’re certainly good at everything I’ve seen.”
He turned off the lamp, but the starlight shown in the open balcony door. “May I quote you in a review?”