“Like the afternoons at the beach we used to enjoy with our parents. We’d spend all day playing in the water, picnicking, being together. I miss those times. And holidays, when we celebrated together.”
“You paint an idyllic life. Real life doesn’t follow that.”
“Your parents didn’t do right by you and your brother.”
“So you’re now an expert on my parents?” he asked. The old wound threatened to reopen. He knew she was right, but years of hiding the disappointment he’d felt at being shunted to school and holiday resorts while his parents went their separate ways resurfaced. He would never subject a child to that. Which was why he planned to stay single all his life.
“Money can buy memories,” he argued, just for the hell of it. “Making enough to afford my interests is satisfying.”
“So you try flying, either by plane or balloon, and scuba diving, racing. High-adrenaline sports,” she said. “Sounds like something’s missing.”
“Nothing’s missing. I do well in business and can indulge myself with any sport I want.”
“If you were married, you’d have a family to build memories with. What happens when you’re eighty and can’t do all those sports?”
Rafael laughed. “I doubt I’ll want to if I live to be eighty. And I will have the memories you put such store in.”
“But who would you have to share them with?”
“Who do you have?” he countered.
“Jose for one. And I do hope to marry someday and have a family. Children to love and raise. A husband to grow old with, to share my life and his.”
“I can’t see my parents sitting on a veranda somewhere in thirty years swapping stories about the good old days.”
“I bet my parents would have. With grandchildren around. That’s sad your parents don’t have family memories.”
He sat up, not wanting to continue this topic. “Not sad, just fact. What about people who don’t have a happy life, do you think they want to remember that when they get old?”
She fell silent.
Rafael stood and looked around. It was dark with no ambient light but that from the stars overhead. He could make out the silhouette of the rim of hills behind them. No roads, but plenty of open land for Manuel to drive over. He hoped the GPS locator was functioning.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“A little.” She sat up, drawing the blanket over her shoulders. It was growing cooler.
“We have some snacks left. But dinner will have to wait on the crew.”
“And that could be six hours away,” she murmured.
“No, they’ll be here before long.”
“If not?”
“Then we bunk down here.”
“Just the two of us,” she said softly.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Should I?”
“Depends on what you consider a problem.”
Amalia’s heart rate sped up. She imagined a lot of scenarios—none of which she’d classify as precisely a problem. Unless she considered being stranded with one of Barcelona’s more infamous bachelors a problem.
“Look on it as a great adventure.”
“I don’t think I’m the adventurous type.”
“Then it’s time you break out of your mold and see what you find,” he said. He sat beside her and nudged her slightly with his shoulder. “Live on the wild side for a while. Explore new things, push yourself. Find out who you really are.”
“And who are you, Rafael?” she asked.
“Someone hoping to go through life experiencing many different facets. Like sailing, soaring, kissing beautiful women.”
The low, sexy tone had her senses on full alert. What would it be like to be kissed by an adventurer?
She was about to find out, she thought, feeling giddy and breathless at the idea.
“Amalia?” he said softly, brushing back her hair from her face, turning toward her.
She saw his head blot the stars then felt his lips brush across hers.
Decision time. Should she scoot away and be outraged, or give in to rampant curiosity and indulge herself as he suggested?
He gathered her closer, blanket and all, and moved past the mere brush of lips for a full-fledged kiss that had her blood pounding through her veins, her head spinning and her own hands reaching out to grasp his jacket and hold on.
The hard ground was forgotten. He shifted slightly, bringing her even closer in his embrace as his tongue teased her lips, dancing with her own when she opened to him. Amalia felt like a top spinning. It was glorious. No wonder women vied to date the man. He set a new standard in kissing.
Too soon he pulled back a bit, his breath fanning her cheeks. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
Sorry! She pushed against that rock-solid chest and scooted back, suddenly feeling every pebble and rock beneath her. Disentangling herself from the blanket, she stood and moved even farther away.
“Try exercising more control next time you feel you can’t resist,” she snapped. She turned, tears of humiliation threatening.
“Hey, Amalia, it was only a kiss,” he said, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean anything,” he said.
That was the problem. It was the best kiss she’d ever had, and he didn’t mean anything.
He stepped up and leaned his head next to hers. She felt the warmth from his cheek next to hers.
“I’m sorry if you’re upset. I won’t do it again.”
Probably not. He was used to gorgeous sophisticated women, not some overworked PA who had to be forced to go on this race with him.
“I think we should keep this businesslike,” she said stiffly. She really wanted him to turn her into his arms again and say nothing was more important to him than her. She almost laughed at the expression he’d have if she voiced that crazy idea.
“I agree. Friends?”
“I doubt we can ever be friends. Just let it drop,” she said, shrugging out of his hold and stepping away. She dare not go too far, as she had no idea where anything was in the darkness.
Would they end up wrapped in the blankets, sleeping beneath the stars? At least the storms he mentioned hadn’t materialized. That would really be horrid.
The silence grew awkward and she knew she hadn’t handled things well. But she couldn’t risk getting too comfortable with him or she’d make an idiot of herself over the man, and then where would she be? She had her brother to get off to university and her own dreams to pursue.
It was almost thirty minutes later that the first glimpse of the headlights shone through the trees.
“Is that them?” she asked, jumping up and trying to see more than flashes of lights at ground level.
“Probably.” Rafael went to the basket and retrieved the radio. In seconds he was in contact with the crew and turned on both flashlights to show them where they were. In less than twenty minutes the truck arrived, lurching over the rough terrain, illuminating everything with its powerful headlights.
Amalia was so glad they’d arrived. She needed a buffer between her and Rafael.
Camping had never been high on her list of things to