himself to remain where he was and not touch her again, just to see what she’d do. The urge to provoke more of a reaction was intoxicating.
Grabbing his warm weather overcoat, he slid his arms carefully into the sleeves. He was going to have to be careful not to let Carter see he’d been in an accident or it might serve as another mark against him, especially if the man thought he was in any way mentally incapacitated as well at the moment.
It was funny but refusing to show any physical weakness felt like something he was well acquainted with, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. It eluded him, like something flittering on the edge of his vision. He knew something important was there, but he couldn’t fully grasp what he was looking at.
Damn memory—it was playing havoc with his self-assurance.
But it would all be okay; he’d make sure it was.
As for Elena, he’d get the full story from her eventually, but for now she was right—he needed to keep his head in the game.
* * *
The restaurant that Benita had booked them into was on a small, winding side street off the famous grand La Rambla, a tree-lined pedestrian mall in the oldest part of the city.
On Elena’s request, the car that Caleb had ordered dropped them in the Plaça de Catalunya, next to the magnificent fountain and the looming Francesc Macià monument—that looked to Elena a bit like an upside-down staircase—so they could soak up the buzzy atmosphere on their way to the restaurant.
They walked together, close but not touching, along the busy street bustling with tourists and locals alike, then detoured down one of the small side streets and through a labyrinth of roads crowded on both sides with a mixture of brightly lit pavement cafés, designer clothes shops and trinket stalls, until they reached the Gothic Quarter, where their final destination was located.
According to Caleb, El Gótico had served its famous fusion of Spanish and Mediterranean fare for the past ten years and was a favourite with Barcelonans, as well as the handful of tourists that occasionally stumbled across it.
The décor was a mixture of warm, earthy colours with rustic wooden furniture and a tiled terracotta floor which contrasted sharply with the angular metal and glass of the staircase and bar. Bright splashes of primary colours were picked out on the back wall, which were also reflected in the small lamps and glass water carafes on each table, giving the place the impression of chic modernism. The whole effect was both comforting and uplifting.
The delicious smell of the place wrapped around Elena’s senses, making her mouth water as they made their way to the bar, where the greeter stood waiting to welcome them.
Caleb spoke to the woman in rapid Spanish and a moment later they were whisked towards the staircase leading to the upper mezzanine of the restaurant, which had a long glass balcony affording diners views of the lamplit tables below.
Just as he was about to mount the stairs, Elena put her hand on Caleb’s arm to stop him. She wanted to make sure they made the most of this opportunity to charm the Americans and for that to happen Caleb was going to have to rein in his more dominating side for a while.
‘I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but go easy on the man tonight, okay? Just until everyone’s had a chance to find their feet here.’
Caleb’s eyebrow shot up. ‘You think I’m going to dangle him from the balcony if he doesn’t agree to a partnership?’
She batted a hand at him, suppressing a smile. ‘No, of course not. But I know you; you’ll want to go in all guns blazing. I recommend a lighter touch. If he’s here with his wife he’s not going to take too kindly to being bullied and harangued.’
‘I wouldn’t—’
She put up a hand to pre-empt his angry rebuttal. ‘Not intentionally, I know, but you can come across as a little bit abrasive and intimidating until someone gets to know you. Show him a bit of your soft side too, that’s my advice.’
Caleb blinked at her, his brows drawn into a tight frown as he appeared to consider what she’d said. After a moment he nodded slowly, his frustrated expression clearing and being replaced with a wolfish grin. There was something else in his eyes too that made her tummy flip and her blood begin to race. She stared at his mouth, wondering erratically how she would react if he leant forwards and kissed her right now.
‘Okay, I’ll be nice,’ he murmured.
Shoving away her lustful urges, she nodded. ‘Good.’ She let out a gasp of surprise as he suddenly slipped his hand around her back and drew her closer to him.
‘Just relax, cariño. You seem tense and that’s going to look strange to our guests.’
Swallowing hard, she gave him a jerky nod, her heart banging hard against her chest and her nerves jangling due to their intimate proximity.
‘Perhaps I should practice my soft side on you before they get here,’ he murmured, his dark eyes boring into hers.
‘How are you going to do that?’ she asked, but before she could draw breath he leant in towards her and brushed his mouth against hers.
Fireworks seemed to go off deep inside her body and she wondered wildly for a second how the other diners would react if she suddenly burst into flames in front of them.
Caleb’s lips were warm and firm, his mouth fitting perfectly with hers. She stood frozen to the spot, too befuddled to react, as a crazy surge of desire unfolded deep inside her, spiralling out to the very ends of her fingers and toes.
His hands slid into her hair and instinctively she sank against him, her body craving the hard press of his against it.
A moment later she was left gasping for air when he drew away from her, giving her a strange knowing kind of smile and nodding towards the upper mezzanine, his arm pressing into her back as he encouraged her to mount the staircase with him.
‘Let’s go and find our seats, ready for the show,’ he murmured into her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin on her exposed neck and making her shiver with longing.
Oh, goodness, it was going to be impossible to keep her cool if he was going to be this physically attentive all evening.
Somehow she managed to make it up the stairs on rather wobbly legs and had just settled herself into a chair that Caleb held out for her when Carter and his wife arrived and she had to stand up again to greet them.
In a fit of continued nerves at Caleb’s proximity, Elena managed to knock her knife onto the floor, which then skidded under the table, causing a flurry of amused response as they all tried to locate it so she could retrieve it, apologising profusely as she did so, which fortuitously broke what could have been an icy start to the meeting.
There was something so healthy and vibrant about the couple, Elena thought dazedly as she smiled a more composed hello to them once she’d straightened up after her little mishap. She guessed that was what people who had incredible wealth and an inclination to take care of themselves looked like—polished and dauntingly self-assured. They put Elena in mind of a high-powered couple from the eighties’ American soap operas she used to watch for guilty pleasure late at night during her university days.
Mrs Carter, who must have been in her early
