Page 37 of His Innocent for One Spanish Night

Except with a modern take.

In the photograph, Alejandro’s phone was sticking out of his back pocket, and his black trousers and white shirt were far more fitted than the clothes worn by the man in the old photograph. And with his hair and his designer stubble...? God, a model might have been hired for a week and this shot would never have looked better.

‘That’s really good.’

‘Thank you,’ Emily said, wondering if he was admiring her work or himself...but it didn’t matter.

‘I thought if we ran with some timeless images...how some things change but others stay the same...’

‘I like it,’ he said. ‘Yes, I think it’s just fresh enough without trying too hard.’

‘I won’t mention in the caption that you were looking for a diamond earring...’

‘No.’

He looked at her then, wincing a little when he saw her red eyes, knowing he’d embarrassed and hurt her when it was the very last thing he’d wanted to do.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked.

‘I will be.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘Don’t worry, Alejandro, I’m sure you’re not that unique.’

She saw his eyes narrow a little, but he did not rise to the provocative threat, just shrugged one shoulder and had the gall to wish her well.

For the rest of her first week she saw him just a little, here and there.

His office was several flights up, so there was no bumping into each other in the corridors. And despite their living next door to each other their paths only crossed once, in the early hours of morning as she lay on the ground in the courtyard.

She’d headed out to catch the sunrise, and before that she wanted to attempt to capture the moon as it drifted over the empty vines that knotted and weaved their way above the courtyard.

‘Heavy night?’ Alejandro asked, standing over her.

She had heard his footsteps but refused to acknowledge them. Now he stood looking down at her and making a dry joke, as if he’d found her passed out drunk in the courtyard.

‘No,’ she said, looking up and resisting saying that the heavy night had clearly been his.

She’d fallen into bed at ten, whereas Alejandro was clearly just getting home from a club, or a casino, or wherever his chosen venue for decadence had been that night. He was unshaven and dressed in a dark suit, his tie undone. Yet he looked so utterly perfect he somehow evoked the image of a movie star from decades ago.

She wasn’t embarrassed to be caught lying down in an attempt to capture the perfect shot—simply grateful that she wasn’t facing him in the small hours with some glamorous beauty on his arm.

‘What are you doing, Emily?’

‘I think these vines will be a beautiful border or background for the website. I’m done now...’ She moved to get up, and when he offered his hand to help her stand, unthinkingly she took it.

Thinkinglytheir fingers remained laced together...like the vines she had just captured.

‘Are you going back to bed now?’ he asked, and she was confused by the slightly suggestive tone to his voice. Confused that he could so coldly reject her and still so easily turn her on.

‘No.’ Emily removed her hand from his. ‘I’m actually heading off to the vineyards. I thought I’d try for a sunrise shot.’

‘Sounds good.’ His voice was husky and he cleared his throat. ‘I’m sure it will look amazing...’

‘I hope so,’ Emily said, and walked over to the steps, where all her equipment was stacked, waiting for her driver to arrive.

He watched as she packed up her beloved camera.

For Alejandro it had been a long night, moving from private club to private party in Seville—one of the hottest spots in Europe for night-life.

It had just not felt like it last night.

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