Page 75 of His Innocent for One Spanish Night

‘But what happens when you have children?’

‘Never.’ He shuddered at the very thought, and certainly didn’t explain further. So much so, she thought, that rather than enlighten her as to the surname of his hypothetical babies, he called for the dessert menu.

‘I can’t decide...’ Emily admitted.

‘I already have,’ Alejandro told her. ‘Tocino de Cielo. It is like your crème caramel—you remember how I told you sherry was clarified with egg white?’

‘I think so...’ Emily nodded, because it was rather difficult to remember anything when she was locked in his gaze.

‘Well, they used to give the unused egg yolks to the local nuns, and they came up with this dessert. It’s very traditional in these parts...’

‘Nuns made this?’

‘They still do. We could go to Acros de la Frontera on the way home, and if you like it we can stop at the convent and get more.’

It really was the most delicious dessert—as well as the most gorgeous night.

When it ended she scooped up the little gold stars from the table and put them in a pouch in her bag.

‘For Willow?’ he said.

‘Yes.’ She nodded, except she knew she might have to keep these little gold stars for herself, along with the amber resin from the sherry bottle.

Only she didn’t want them to be mere memories...an amber and gold shrine kept to remind her of him.

He took her to Plaza de España and they strolled across the bridges and stood by the water fountain. It was stunning, with ceramic-tiled bridges and even seats, all blues and yellows. For once Emily was glad not to have her camera with her. Oh, she’d come back and take photos, but on this night it was just so nice to walk hand in hand and take it all in.

It was only when they were walking back to the hotel that she felt him tense. His stride slowed for a brief second, but he said nothing and carried on walking, though she quickly saw why.

There was a poster—one of many pasted onto the wall. But Maria de Luca certainly stood out. She was so stunning and beguiling that Emily couldn’t pretend not to have seen it—in fact she herself had already slowed down.

‘Your mother’s performing here?’

‘No, I think that’s an old poster.’

They wandered over to read it, but Emily was right. His mother was performing this weekend in Seville. It was a chance, the poster read, to see her before she headed off on an international tour.

Alejandro looked at his mother, smiling for any passing stranger, or for patrons who were willing to drop a couple of hundred euros to see her perform.

Maria de Luca.

Loved, revered and adored.

Just rarely at home.

And when she had been she’d simply been filling time before she went away again.

‘She never bought us gifts when she went away,’ he said.

‘I’m sure she was busy...’

‘Come off it, Emily—you’re working twelve-hour days, and putting in extra at night. You’re cramming in dance lessons, sleeping with me...’ He refused to make excuses for his mother. ‘You’re only Willow’s godmother, yet you still make the time to call her, to bring back gifts, you think of her.’

‘Yes...’

‘And you thought of me today.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It might only be a holiday romance, but you’ll always be my first lover, Alejandro.’

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