continued to stare as he gave a shrug of disinterest. The building, situated in one of Madrid’s most exclusive residential areas, had been an investment, one that he had actually forgotten he had made until his ever-efficient PA had pointed out that the penthouse apartment being empty could be an obvious solution to his temporary housing situation.
‘I live here.’
Megan’s stomach went into a lurching dive as she digested this information in silence. ‘Live?’ She was able to keep the panic from her voice, but not her tawny eyes, as she stared at a point midway up his broad chest. ‘Live as in …?’
He looked amused by the question. ‘Live, as in I go home to at the end of the day.’
Her eyes dropped as the sarcasm in his voice brought a flush to her cheeks. Agreeing to eat with him in a public place with people around was one thing, but this was not what she’d signed up for!
For God’s sake, Megan, she counselled herself crossly, act your age. How long could it take to swallow a cup of coffee and gulp down a pastry?
What was the alternative, run away like a frightened kid?
Emilio Rios, she reminded herself, could literally have any woman he wanted. He’s not lured you to his apartment to make a pass at you!
The recognition should have made her feel happier.
It didn’t. It wasn’t that she wanted to be someone else, she was happy being herself, but it would have been nice to know what it felt like to exude that indefinable something that made men notice you that way.
Men?
Or was it one specific man she wanted to notice her?
Megan closed down the line of thought, drawing a firm line under the ludicrous flow of speculation. She was a practical person, not given to wishing for things she could not have, and no amount of wishful thinking or Chanel suits were going to give her what women like Rosanna were born with.
As for wanting to be noticed by Emilio Rios. She pressed a hand to her stomach where a fluttering had joined the hollow feeling; even the thought of such a thing made her feel queasy.
Or something!
‘We could go to a restaurant if you prefer?’
Megan found herself responding to the challenge, imagined or otherwise, in his voice.
‘No, this is fine.’ She glanced down at her watch, silently trying to calculate how soon she could make an escape without looking rude.
Five minutes tops to gulp down coffee and a pastry, Megan reckoned, though actually what was so bad about appearing rude? It wasn’t as if he would recognise polite conversation if it bit him on his bottom.
‘You’re not on the clock. Relax.’
‘I am relaxed,’ she gritted, plastering on a determined smile.
Emilio, who had seen nervous bridegrooms who looked more relaxed, did not comment. ‘You seemed surprised that I have an apartment. What did you think—I sleep at my desk?’ he asked, sounding amused.
Her golden eyes swept upwards. ‘Wherever you sleep, I’m sure it’s not alone.’
‘And that bothers you?’ He framed the question slowly, his perceptive gaze trained on her face.
Megan found his expression unreadable, but she couldn’t shake the crazy conviction he could read her mind.
‘Bother?’ Her slender shoulders lifted in an uninterested shrug. ‘It’s none of my business what you do or with whom.’
‘But I’m guessing that doesn’t stop you having strong views on the subject,’ he drawled ironically.
‘I have none whatsoever,’ she retorted without a blush.
She was just glad that there was no Josh to challenge her lie.
She hadn’t even realised that she zeroed in on every reference to Emilio she came across until her flatmate Josh had pointed it out after she had had delivered a few juicy quotes from an offending article, and then, despite his clear lack of interest in the subject matter, had thrust it under his nose.
‘How does her dress stay up? That’s what I’d like to know.’
It was clear from the red-carpet shot of the couple that Emilio knew how it came off. The woman was plastered up against him like glue.
‘Mioaw!’ Josh laid the paper aside without looking at it and carried on drinking his coffee. ‘Why the interest in this guy, Megan?’
‘I’m not interested.’
He arched a brow. ‘And judgemental, which isn’t like you.’
‘I’m not—’ Innately honest, Megan was unable to complete the sentence. ‘Well, Emilio can be pretty judgemental himself.’ And with an awful lot less cause! She recalled his lecture on the last occasion they had met, despite the fact that she had been the victim of an unwanted pass and he had treated her like some sort of tart.
‘Really? That sounds interesting.’
‘Well, it wasn’t,’ she said discouragingly. She had no intention of dredging up the humiliating subject for Josh or, for that matter, anyone else.
She had put it very firmly behind her.
‘He is just a friend of Philip’s.’
‘For someone who’s not interested you seem awfully concerned about who he’s sleeping with.’ Josh, his blue eyes gleaming, angled a speculative look at her flushed face. ‘Were you two ever …?’
‘No, we were not!’
Chuckling, Josh held up his hands. ‘I just thought maybe he was the man.’
‘What man?’
‘The one responsible for your nun-like existence.’
‘I have a healthy social life—’
Josh cut across her protest. ‘And zero sex life, and don’t try and deny it, sweetheart, the walls are extremely thin. You could no more have a secret affair than I could.’
Knowing a defensive comment would prolong the teasing, she had maintained a dignified silence, but it had started her thinking.
Perhaps she did think a little too much about Emilio Rios?
He was not even part of her life any longer. He had been a friend of Philip’s, not hers, so there was no reason for him to contact her. They lived in very different worlds.
Pushing away the memory of that embarrassing conversation, she looked Emilio in the eyes and added, ‘But I’d sooner not read about it while I’m eating my breakfast.’ She pursed her lips primly. Tales of a person’s sexual stamina were not, in her opinion, suitable reading for any time of day.
Emilio
