“Look how many men you met this morning who survived their careers in a bullring. Why would I be any different?”
She raised her hand to his smooth, warm cheek, and he kissed her palm. “Maybe I’m the one who’s cursed, not you,” she whispered.
“I may not know how to cast spells, but I do know how to break curses.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her until they were both breathless.
“Does it involve killing chickens?” she asked.
“All it involves is this.” He pulled her down across the bed and covered her face with teasing kisses until she gasped through giggles. ?
??Forget about where you’ll live. There’s only now,” he swore, “this minute, no tomorrow, no yesterday. We create our own world. Don’t let it slip away.”
She’d grabbed hold of the moment the first time they’d slept together, but time poured through her fingers now. There had always been magic in his dark eyes, but she could only glimpse the happiness he saw in his mind. She slipped her fingers through his silken hair and snuggled close to his bare chest. He peeled away her clothes, barely taking time with the buttons. He kissed her breasts and blew across the damp nipples until she shivered.
How could she ever want another man when he was so loving? But she couldn’t still her anguished mind, even as her body grew sensitive to the point of pain. She sighed as the world dissolved around them, but she still longed for promises that would last more than a single sunny afternoon.
He brought her to the edge with his mouth, then entered her with a slow, teasing thrust. He lay still within her, his smile the rakish grin she adored. “I do love you,” she whispered, without confessing how badly it hurt.
He kissed her with a lazy perfection and smoothed her hair from her brow. “I know you do, and you feel far too good to be a curse.”
She rolled her hips to urge him to move, and he withdrew and entered her again. Her body stretched to lure him deep, but rather than his magical scent, she caught a whiff of the incense from the basilica, an unwelcome reminder of how often he taunted death.
Ana entered the ranch house with Fox. Santos heard them and hobbled from the den to the entryway. “Thank you for bringing Fox home.”
“You’re welcome. I have a favor to ask.”
Santos leaned against the wall. “I don’t care what it is. The answer’s no.”
She slid her tongue over her lips to make her bright red lipstick glisten. “Your father’s attorney told me I’m mentioned in your father’s will, so I’ll have to stay until tomorrow, but there isn’t a single room available at any of the hotels in Zaragoza.”
Santos straightened up. “And you want to stay here? Why, have you run out of photos to sell?”
“I only sold one,” she countered, “or maybe two.”
“The number doesn’t matter. All I’ll do is loan you a blanket so you can sleep in the stable.”
“Isn’t it haunted?” Fox asked, hanging on their every word.
“Maybe,” Santos replied. “Ana can give us a report in the morning.”
“No thanks.” She turned toward the door, but Fox stopped her.
“You can sleep in my room tonight,” he suggested, his grin wide.
“Absolutely not,” Santos announced.
“You don’t have to shout,” Ana insisted. “I wouldn’t share a bed with Fox. He’s awfully cute but definitely too young for me.”
Santos pushed away from the wall. “But my father wasn’t too old?”
Fox sat on the bottom step of the stairs to get a good seat for what looked like might become a memorable fight.
“Your father was a national treasure, and his age meant nothing to me. We’d have stayed together if he hadn’t fallen ill.”
“That’s unlikely. It usually took him only six months to grow bored with a woman, and I doubt you’d have lasted four.”
“Bastard!” Ana drew back her hand to slap him, but his reflexes were lightning quick, and he caught her wrist in midair.
He kept hold of her to walk her to the door. “You’re not that far from home. Go and don’t come back. You’ve worn out your welcome here several times.”