The car had reappeared then, as if by magic, and had taken them to see the stunning sixteenth-century monastery where Vasco Da Gama was buried in Belem. Afterwards Cesar had pointed to a blue-canopied shop nearby, where a queue literally about a mile long waited patiently.
They’d joined the back of it. Lexie had looked at Cesar, but he’d said enigmatically, ‘Wait and see. Then you’ll understand why all these people are here.’
Eventually, when they’d reached the shop itself, Cesar had spoken in flawless Portuguese. He’d handed Lexie what looked like a small custard tart.
‘Taste it,’ Cesar had urged as they’d found stools in the heaving shop with its beautiful ornate interior.
Lexie had obediently bitten into the flaky pastry and the smooth warm custard had melted on her tongue. She’d groaned her appreciation, much as everyone else had.
When she’d been able to speak again she’d said, ‘That was probably one of the best tarts I’ve ever tasted in my life.’
A smug Cesar had just said, ‘See?’
And then they’d queued again for more.
After they’d taken a circuitous sightseeing route back to the hotel, instead of leading her up to the suite Cesar had taken Lexie down to the spa, where he’d consulted in Portuguese with the receptionist, who had gone bright pink and giggly. Lexie might almost have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t been feeling a disturbing rise of something else. Jealousy.
Cesar had turned to her. ‘See you in a couple of hours.’ And after pressing a swift kiss to her mouth he’d left Lexie there, gaping at his retreating form.
Two women had emerged and Lexie had been taken in hand—literally. The full works of an all-over beauty treatment, followed by a full body massage.
Then, when she’d floated back to the suite, Cesar had been waiting with champagne, and once Lexie had changed into the dark pink off-the-shoulder dress she’d brought with her they’d gone to dinner.
And now...now...Lexie took in the sparkling view of one of the oldest cities in Europe and felt overwhelmed. No more in control of her emotions than she had been ever since they’d queued a second time for the glorious pasteis de natas in Belem. When Cesar had looked so carefree and years younger.
Conversely, it had reminded Lexie that she harboured dark secrets, and they were rising up within her now—because she was going to be coming face to face with a very personal old scar on set the following week. The thought of it terrified her, and she knew she was feeling more vulnerable about it because being with Cesar...being intimate for the first time...had ripped away some vital layer of protection.
‘Sorry, I had to take that call.’
Lexie tensed at Cesar’s deep voice. He came alongside her and handed her a small glass of port. She forced a smile and tipped it towards him after sniffing it appreciatively. ‘Appropriate—given we’re in the land where port is made.’
Cesar inclined his head. He looked absurdly suave and gorgeous this evening. Tall and imposing. Yet with that very definite edge of virile masculine energy.
Lexie took a quick sip of her drink. It was smooth and luxurious. Her feeling of vulnerability and the darkness on her soul made her want to avoid Cesar’s far too incisive gaze. Even now he was regarding her speculatively. She felt raw after the day, and on some perverse level she almost felt angry with him—for charming her, for making her fall for him.
A rogue desire to crack that impenetrable façade he wore so well made her ask, ‘So how come you’re not married...?’
Lexie immediately wanted to claw the words back. Regretting the impulse.
Cesar’s gaze narrowed predictably and Lexie squirmed, cursing herself. Thinking frantically of a way to save herself, she sought to mitigate it by saying lightly, ‘You’re a catch. I mean you have all your own teeth, your breath isn’t bad. You own property...’
Somehow Lexie was afraid she hadn’t fooled him. Her voice had sounded too breathy, slightly desperate. She took another sip of the port.
But when she looked back at him he was smiling wryly. ‘No one’s ever mentioned the boon of having my own teeth before.’
No, thought Lexie, she’d bet they hadn’t. They’d probably looked at him and seen a walking, talking dollar sign. Inexplicable anger rose up within her to think of women seeing him as a target, and then just as quickly dissolved. Cesar was so cynical that he would never be taken for that kind of a fool.
Suddenly loath to think that he might consider her a vulture like that, she said quietly, ‘Thank you. Seriously, this day has been...amazing. I never expected it.’
Something painful gripped her inside. Their time was finite.
Not wanting to think about that, she figured she had nothing to lose so she dived in, telling herself she wasn’t genuinely curious. ‘Have you ever come close? To being married?’
Cesar tensed. His fingers tightened fractionally on his glass. Then the line of his mouth flattened. ‘I was abandoned at an early age and then left in the hands of two people who were little better than uninterested caretakers. They resented the fact that my blood was not pure. That experience hardly left me with the qualifications to create a warm, inviting atmosphere conducive to family and such frivolous things.’
Lexie’s insides clenched in rejection of that. Creating a family, a home, was not frivolous. Cesar’s words, however, had been emphatic. She realised something about herself then, in a blinding flash of clarity: on some fundamental level she hadn’t given up hope for herself. She hoped that some day she might h
ave a second chance and her own rather dismal experience of what a family was could be proved to be the exception rather than the rule.