She never hung pictures of family so she would warm the space with paintings she’d purchased while living in Australia. They were on the floor, propped against the wall with framed, free-expression artwork made by her nieces and nephew.
She washed her hands, then set the table with the fragrant fideuà, which was a paella made with vermicelli noodles. It was piping hot and ready to serve in enameled cast-iron dishes with lids. Warm flatbread accompanied it along with tapenade, a salad and custard-filled buñuelos for dessert.
“Corkscrew?” he asked, showing her a bottle of white wine.
She handed it over with one glass. “None for me. If I have anything stronger than a glass of water, I’ll be flat on the floor.”
He set aside the bottle without opening it. “How hard has Oladele been working you?”
“It’s not that.” She refused to let him think she was anything but delighted by her job. “I haven’t taken a proper break since before exams. Oladele said the office will close for Christmas on the nineteenth, though.” That was only a week and a half away. “I’ll catch up on my sleep then.”
Oh, heck. She still had to finish her shopping for the children. Whether she joined her sister or not, she needed gifts for everyone.
“That’s not the face of someone anticipating a break from work,” he said, making her realize she’d revealed how daunted she was. And that he was watching her as closely as he had that night in San Francisco.
Disturbed, she explained, “I just remembered the Christmas shopping I have to finish.”
“I wasn’t sure if you celebrate. You don’t have a tree.” He flickered his gaze around her undecorated lounge.
“I haven’t had time to get one.” Truthfully, she hadn’t made time. “My sister invited me to join them so there doesn’t seem a point if I won’t be here.” That was her excuse for eschewing the wreaths and garlands she had once looked forward to hanging.
Last weekend, she had stayed with her nieces and nephew while Cinnia and Henri had flown to Paris for a function, hoping her weekend visit would excuse her from the holiday altogether, but the pressure had only increased.
You haven’t had Christmas with us in five years, Cinnia had scolded.Everyone wants you here. You know that.
She did. And she wanted to see everyone. It wasn’t the people she was avoiding. It was this time of year. She used to love all the joyful decor and festive traditions around Christmas, but these days they regressed her back to that heart-stopping moment when she’d realized how badly she’d messed up.
Pushing her dark thoughts aside, she waved an invitation for Joaquin to join her at the table. They both sat and tucked in without ceremony.
“You?” she asked, trying to make this extraordinary situation feel normal when all she could think about was the way they’d flirted over drinks and fallen on each other with a different type of hunger.
This was the meal he had promised to order for them before he had dumped her.
Why did she let that continue to sting? He’d made it clear they were ships passing even before they’d slept together, then told her afterward that he wasn’t someone to plan to share things with.
She had slept with him knowing they weren’t likely to have a future and she’d been fine with it. It was only in the afterglow, when she’d been anticipating going back to him for the rest ofthe night, that she had indulged a few expectations, wondering if maybe therecouldbe more between them.
She lifted her gaze and found him watching her with a pull of dismay in his brows.
He was even more aloof and unreadable than he’d been in San Francisco.
Her stomach curdled anew with the fear she’d done something wrong. Offended or disappointed or repelled him in some way.
“I was only asking what you do at this time of year. If that’s a state secret you don’t care to share…” She was trying to be ironic, but the joke fell flat. She looked hopelessly at her food, appetite evaporating.
He let the silence hang for an extra second before stabbing his dish as though it needed killing before eating.
“My brother used to invite me to join him and Zurina. I always refused because our father was also invited. Last year, I gave in for the children’s sake. It was their first Christmas without Fernando and it turned into hell because my father was there. We despise each other, as you may have gathered.” He closed his lip over a mouthful, pensive as he chewed and swallowed.
She had gotten that memo. It had slapped her in the face this morning in the form of Lorenzo’s rage.
“This year, Zurina and her parents are spending a few weeks in the Canary Islands,” he continued. “I put them on my plane this afternoon. She asked me to join them, but I’ll work. Prepping for today pushed my own projects to the back burner. I need to catch up.”
“I’m still trying to understand what happened today,” she admitted wryly.
“Same,” he said with pithy sarcasm, flickering his gaze over her face and shoulders in a way that made her feel off balance.
She dropped her eyes, hating herself forlikingthe feel of his gaze. For quietly willing something more visceral out of him.
