The Playboy of Puerto Banús. Carol Marinelli
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Spain there are no speeches at a wedding,’ Raúl said, leaning across her a little to speak to Gordon.
She could smell his expensive cologne, and his arm was leaning slightly on her. Estelle watched her fingers around the stem of her glass tighten.
‘We just have the wedding, a party, and then bed,’ Raúl said.
It was the first hint of suggestion, but even so she could merely be reading into things too much. Except as he leant over her to hear Gordon’s response Estelle wanted to put her hand up, wanted to ask for the lights to come on, for this assault on her senses to stop, to tell the room the inappropriateness of the man sitting beside her. Only not a single thing had he done—not a word or hand had he put wrong.
So why was her left breast aching, so close to where his arm was? Why were her two front teeth biting down on her lip at the sight of his cheek, inches away?
‘Really?’ Gordon checked. ‘I might just have to move to Spain! In actual fact I was—’
Gordon was interrupted by the buzz of his phone and Raúl moved back in his seat. Estelle sat watching the newly wed couple dancing.
‘Darling, I am so sorry,’ Gordon said as he read a message on his phone. ‘I am going to have to find somewhere I can make some calls and use a computer.’
‘Good luck getting internet access,’ drawled Raúl. ‘I have to go outside just to make a call.’
‘I might be some time.’
‘Trouble?’ Estelle asked
‘Always.’ Gordon rolled his eyes. ‘Though this is unexpected. But I’ll deal with it as quickly as I can. I hate to leave you on your own.’
‘She won’t be on her own,’ Raúl said. ‘I can keep an eye.’
She rather wished that he wouldn’t.
‘Thanks so much,’ Gordon said. ‘In that dress she deserves to dance.’ He turned to Estelle. ‘I really am sorry to leave you…’ For appearances’ sake, he kissed her on the cheek.
What a waste of her mouth, Raúl thought.
Once Gordon had gone she turned to James and Veronica, on her right, desperately trying to feed into their conversation. But they were certainly not interested in Gordon’s new date. Over and over they politely dismissed her, and then followed the other couples at their table and got up to dance—leaving her alone with Raúl.
‘From the back you could be Spanish…’
She turned to the sound of his voice.
‘But from the front…’
His eyes ran over her creamy complexion and she felt heat sear her face as his eyes bored into hers. And though they did not wander—he was far too suave for that—somehow he undressed her. Somehow she sat there on her seat beside him at the wedding as if they were a couple. And when he looked at her, she felt, for a bizarre second, as if she was completely naked.
He was as potent as that.
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