Britt slept and woke and found herself still in Spain in a lovely hotel room with an even lovelier man whose kisses made her forget every doubt she’d ever had in her adult life.
Chapter 14
Jack took her to the Sorolla Museum and spoke to her about Spanish Impressionism and then bought her a beautiful hand painted silk scarf at the museum shop while she was debating which postcard to buy. They went to the Prado, just because Jack insisted that no one should visit Spain without experiencing one of the greatest museums on earth. Still, after loving every single piece of art in the Sorolla, Britt was a little overwhelmed by every Goya and El Greco packed in beside the Rubenses at the Prado. She was willing to acknowledge that the Spaniards possessed some excellent artwork but that she wasn’t up to seeing absolutely all of it in one day. Jack laughed and led her to the exit.
Scarf at her throat, Britt settled in at a sidewalk café with a splendid midday daiquiri and felt soothed by the atmosphere, the buildings and people so different from what she was accustomed to see every day back at home.
“Do you think you have enough energy to go shopping or did all the art exhaust you?” he teased.
“I always have energy for shopping, Jack. I promise. Especially in a European capital.”
“Good because I want to spoil you a little. Or a lot. We’re heading to Salamanca.”
“Sounds like a kind of lizard to me,” she joked.
“It’s the home of the golden mile. The most exclusive shopping street in Madrid. Trust me,” he said.
Soon, Britt found herself in a whirlwind of the most beautiful, sumptuous things she’d ever seen. Every international designer name she knew...and several she wasn’t even familiar with...seemed to have an outpost here. She breathed in the rarefied leather scent of the Hermes shop, not even daring to touch anything before backing bashfully out the entrance. Jack urged her to go back in, to choose something, but she felt out of place. At Versace, each piece seemed too boldly sexual, too striking for her to try on in a fitting room, much less to wear in public. She smiled sweetly at Jack and asked if they could possibly go to a different street, something less lavish and more her style.
A few blocks over they found a little side street with boutiques, quirky and unique with bright fabrics and layers of chunky necklaces layered on the mannequins. Grinning, Britt ducked in to the first one and within minutes she had on a black moto style jacket in light soft wool with fierce silver embroidery at the cuffs. A pair of gold leather ankle boots. A red and gold enamel bracelet. They left the boutique with three big shopping bags and Britt walked out wearing a pale coral silky tunic with bronze beading over a pair of very short shorts. Jack kissed her.
“Thanks,” he said off-handedly. “For letting me spoil you. That was fun. I hate that I made you uncomfortable with the golden mile.”
“No, it wasn’t you. That’s just not me. Three thousand dollar shirts that look like...a normal shirt? I mean, sure the red carpet gowns and the fancy purses, they’re really special and worth it, but when people pay a ton of money for, like, a pair of jeans, I just don’t get it.”
“I see you prefer something unique,” he said, indicating the beaded fringe at the hem of her tunic.
“Say what you will about my beads. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen back home. It’s special. It says Spain to me.”
“How about something to eat? Those mushroom croquetas say Spain to me.”
“Do you think they have pizza anywhere? I mean it’s really close to Italy, geographically, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is my little American. I’m sure we can find you some pizza in Madrid if you prefer that to the squid.”
“I prefer practically anything over the squid,” she grimaced and he laughed.
“What about the ham? You liked the ham.”
“Yes, I love the ham,” she admitt
ed. “But it’s really getting hot out here.”
“Siesta time, babe,” he said, grinning.
Chapter 15
Back at the hotel, Jack took her hands and kissed her.
“Can we talk?”
“We are talking,” she said a little nervously. “It is just that every time a man has ever announced that he wanted to talk to me, it was because he was about to break up with me.”
“Not a chance. I just need to get this off my chest,” he said.
Out on their balcony a bottle of cava was chilling in a bucket and he poured her a glass.
“The thing is, I do have these obligations. All these companies and real estate investments and the plane and some boats...you would not believe how many boats that man had.” He shook his head affectionately. “And some of it I’ll sell. I don’t know what to do because, in a way, the only thing I’m concerned with at the consulting firm—which is the smallest of his companies by the way—is whether you want it to stay open. Because as far as I’m concerned, I’d just shut it down. It’s not a project that interests me, it’s a time sucker. So I wondered what your opinion was.”