Page 14 of His Innocent for One Spanish Night

And now here she sat in ataberna, face to face with the most stunning man.

Both had been overwhelming—though the latter was nicely so.

‘So where are you staying?’ he asked. ‘In Plaza de Santiago?’

‘No, I’m staying here...on the property,’ Emily told him. ‘Apparently the usual accommodation is unavailable, so I’m in the housekeeper’s apartment.’

‘We’re neighbours, then...’

‘Neighbours?’

‘The residence here is mine.’

‘Oh...’

Gosh, she’d glimpsed the beautiful building behind huge arched iron gates, never for a second thinking it might be somebody’s home.

‘Usually the staff stay in one of our residences in theplaza,’ Alejandro said, and then he gestured to the stage. ‘But the flamenco festival is about to commence, and your accommodation must have been booked out by mistake.’

‘So there isn’t usually live entertainment?’ Emily asked. ‘This is just for the festival?’

‘Oh, no, there’s always live entertainment,’ he said. ‘But it’s rare that Eva performs.’

‘She’s incredible.’

‘Indeed... There’s generally a few performances in the afternoons, but with the festival coming up there will be a lot more.’ He looked at her then. ‘At night, the list is more informal. Spontaneous.’ He looked towards the stage. ‘It looks as if some of Eva’s students are about to perform.’

‘I didn’t realise just how big flamenco was here,’ Emily admitted. ‘I mean, I thought it was...’ Her voice trailed off; she was not sure he would appreciate how little she knew.

‘Thought what?’ he prompted.

‘That it was something just put on for the tourists.’

‘Oh, no.’ He seemed to take no offence at her naivety. Clearly he had heard it many times before. ‘They love the traditions here,’ he explained. ‘There are a lot ofpeñas...’

‘Peñas?’Emily checked.

‘It’s a local term. Kind of...’ he sought a translation for her ‘...a flamenco club whereaficionadosgo.’

‘Aficionados?’she repeated, and then worked out what he meant without explanation. ‘Enthusiasts?’

He nodded.

‘And are you one?’

‘Not particularly,’ he said.

He looked up as a waitress came over to top up his glass and shook his head. Emily had the feeling he was about to go, but then he looked at her.

‘Have you tasted our sherry?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I did try to get hold of some, but I live in a small village and...’

‘It’s fine.’ He spoke in rapid Spanish to the waitress and soon a bottle was brought over, and also a cheese board.

But it was the bottle that held her gaze.

She’d seen it online, of course, but the photos hadn’t captured its beauty.

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