Page 77 of His Innocent for One Spanish Night

Even without Carmen’s input Emily had found a photograph of her on a gorgeous black Andalusian horse, riding through the vineyards. Sebastián though, was proving harder. There were no smiling faces where he was concerned, nor casual shots that she could easily find.

But today, at the eleventh hour, Emily had come across one. He was on the rooftop terrace, with the sun setting behind him, the church spire in the background, and he was toasting a stunning woman. Both were holding up sherry glasses, and even the bottle had the label facing the right way.

Emily was almost shaking when she found the perfect shot. It was just a couple of days before the website went live.

She called Alejandro’s office.

‘I’ve found a photo of Sebastián...’ She described it. ‘It has everything.’

‘God, no,’ he said, almost instantly. ‘Just forget you even saw that.’

‘But it has the bottle, the sherry, the sunset and the spire...’

‘That is him and Isabel.’

‘Isabel?’ Emily frowned. She’d never heard that name, and there was a bitter note to Alejandro’s tone. ‘Who’s she?’

‘Sebastián’s reluctant ex. That was taken when they had just got engaged. It all fell apart a couple of weeks later.’

‘Why?’

But Alejandro wasn’t about to enlighten her. ‘Seriously, Emily,’ he warned, ‘don’t even go there.’

Emily sighed. ‘Okay. There is another one of him on the same photo shoot. It’s just Sebastián, with his back to the wall. He’s holding a glass, but it doesn’t show the bottle... He looks incredible.’

It was almost as good. Actually, it was just as good, as the amber sherry reflected the sunset and glinted like liquid gold.

‘Can I use that?’ she asked.

‘Send a copy over to me and I’ll discuss it with him.’ He sounded distracted. ‘I’m meeting with him soon. I’ll see what he says.’

Emily did so, and then spent a good couple of hours with her translator, who was, thankfully, pedantic. She could see now why Alejandro had insisted that she write in English, because the translator managed to convey things she could not.

‘Sobremesa,’he said now. ‘Sitting with family and friends after a heavy meal, just relaxing and talking.’

‘Perfect.’

It was so exciting, seeing her photos come to life with the words beside them. And who knew thatconcuñoorconcuñameant the spouse of an in-law, which helped so much to shorten the descriptions on ancient family photos.

Romero tradition and history went way back. It was something that she pondered on as she made her way to her lunchtime dance class. It was to be followed by another one to one with Eva, as she was trying to cram in as many as she could before she left Jerez.

Before she left...

She felt the days peeling away, as if the wind had caught the paper of a calendar and was simply blowing their time away.

As she waited for the group class to conclude Emily eyed the wall chart and tried to see if there were any more classes she could take, and when her private class commenced she asked Eva about it.

‘I have my male class,’ Eva said. ‘Okay, now footwork...’ She was clearly able to keep two conversations going at the same time. ‘You are welcome to join in.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Emily’s confidence had indeed come on, but she wasn’t ready to take a lesson in front of a group of men. Still, it was interesting to think of men taking classes.

‘Faster!’ Eva said. ‘Tacón, tacón, tacón, golpe! Put some anger into it...’

Emily tried, but even after weeks of faithful practice, and lots of expert tuition by Alejandro, Emily simply couldn’t get her body to express itself in the way she wanted. Oh, it was improving, but she still felt like a wooden doll compared to the other women.

‘Did you teach Alejandro?’ Emily asked, taking a quick drink of water. It was hard doing footwork and holding a shawl.

‘Teach?’ Eva laughed. ‘Well, I suppose you could call it that...’ She saw Emily’s frown in the mirror. ‘Oh, you mean flamenco...’ She gave her a smile. ‘No, I never taught him that.’

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