Susan Stephens - The Acostas Box Set

Fish and chips?

Mating rituals like eating supper together and how to avoid them was another good headline for her column, Holly concluded as she shifted anxiously from foot to foot in the hallway, waiting for Ruiz. But seeing as there was no escape from tonight, fish was out—ditto anything like spinach that might get stuck in her teeth. Thankfully, she had identified a healthy-food café where they could nibble on crudités and drink sparkling elder-flower water. Perfect. She would keep a clear head and as the café was brilliantly lit with sensible, hard-backed chairs Ruiz wouldn’t want to stay for long—

And when they came home?

She’d plead tiredness and go to bed. Alone.

Just when she’d almost given up on him, Ruiz stormed back into the apartment like an avenging angel in a cloud of cold air and warm smiles with Bouncer panting vigorously at his heels. ‘Ready?’ he demanded.

‘Ready,’ Holly confirmed.

‘Where are you taking me?’ he said as he bent down to remove Bouncer’s leash.

‘I thought the little café down the road—’

‘The one where we met?’ Ruiz sounded upbeat as his lips pressed down with approval of her choice. ‘Hang on while I fill Bouncer’s water bowl—’

‘No … No, that one’s shut,’ she called out.

Ruiz sauntered back into the hall. ‘Tell me you’re not taking me to that place where they serve lentil soup, and you have to sit round a communal table on hemp sacks?’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ she said. ‘They do have private booths.’

‘Where you can sit on even bigger hemp sacks? No, thank you.’

‘So where do you want to go?’ she said irritably.

‘You’re letting me choose?’ Ruiz’s mouth curved in a grin.

Why couldn’t she learn to keep her big mouth shut? She would never be able to afford Ruiz’s preferred style of restaurant. ‘I’m sure I can find somewhere else you would like,’ she told him firmly.

‘I know somewhere you’d like,’ Ruiz countered. ‘It’s walking distance from here—and not expensive,’ he added when Holly’s eyes widened in panic. ‘Mid-week is all about economy, Ms Valiant.’

‘Are you mocking me, Señor Acosta?’

‘Would I?’ he said.

Holly’s look said it all. And now her mind was swinging wildly between the safe café of her choice and somewhere of Ruiz’s choosing—and how economical that would be in terms of their very different incomes. ‘Am I dressed okay for this place of yours?’

‘You’ll do,’ he said, holding her gaze with a raised eyebrow and a sexy grin.

‘It’s still my treat,’ she insisted firmly, trying to hang onto her composure.

‘Of course it is,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘Though I am prepared to make a deal with you.’

Why was he staring at her shoes? Her comfortable, clunky-heeled shoes? They were perfect if they were going to walk to the place Ruiz had mentioned. Did he need to look at them as if she had committed some terrible faux pas and make her even more nervous about stepping into Ruiz’s world than she already was?

‘This is the deal.’ Ruiz angled his disreputably stubbled chin in Holly’s direction. ‘I’ll pay for supper tonight if you wear the shoes I bought for you.’

The shoes he bought? Accept his gift? Take a totter on the wild side on five-inch heels instead of remaining safely corralled inside the magazine column on her clunkies? ‘I can’t walk in high heels. And, anyway, I already told you that I—’

‘Don’t accept gifts from men,’ Ruiz supplied. ‘I do remember.’

‘So, how does this work?’ Holly demanded. ‘I get the shoes and you pay for supper. Do you seriously think I’m going to go for that?’

‘I think you should,’ he said evenly. ‘I think if you had any sense you would.’

‘Well, clearly I don’t have any sense,’ Holly fired back, ‘because—’ Because what? Come on, come on ‘—because tonight is supposed to be my treat for you.’ Ah, yes, sweet relief. ‘Because you have to let me do something in return for allowing me to stay in the Acosta penthouse.’ Yes! ‘And as for wearing a pair of brand-new shoes that you could easily take back to the store and get a refund for—’

‘Oh, get over yourself,’ Ruiz flashed, raising the emotional temperature by a few thousand degrees. ‘You’re my sister’s best friend. If my friends were in London and needed accommodation I would expect Lucia to show them hospitality. This is a courtesy to my sister.’

As she had thought. Okay, she’d asked for that, Holly accepted as Ruiz and his storm-face reached the door. ‘Okay?’ he questioned, banging it open.

‘Okay,’ she fired back. Stepping out of the fictional world she had created for Ruiz and into reality with him might be a little more combative and complex than she had first imagined, Holly realised. And as for the effect on her senses, she could only trust that the keeper of her moral code was on duty tonight.

‘I thought we might go dancing,’ Ruiz dropped in casually as he held the door for her to go through.

‘Dancing?’ Holly managed on a dry throat, knowing her face must have been a picture of doom as she walked past him.

‘Something wrong with that?’ Ruiz demanded, turning to lock the door.

Where to start? Dancing meant touching each other, holding each other, moving as closely as two people could move together, unless they were—

‘Those shoes are perfect for dancing. Thank you for wearing them,’ Ruiz said with worrying charm as she click-clacked across the lobby towards the elevator.

‘My pleasure,’ Holly said primly, which was the understatement of the year. Well, she could hardly leave the shoes alone in a box while she went out, could she? They might fade, or something.

‘Tonight should make very good reading for your column,’ Ruiz observed as they stood waiting for the lift to arrive.

Holly forced a small laugh. Not too good, she hoped. She’d given up on the thong and was wearing really big knickers instead.

They crossed the road and walked through the park with a good three feet of air between them. Where was Ruiz taking her? Holly wondered as he turned off down a cobbled side street where the mews houses would go for millions and any club would be exclusive in the extreme. She was feeling extremely self-conscious by the time Ruiz stopped outside an iron-studded door where the faint strains of South American music could be heard on the street. But the club did look intriguing—all dark and mysterious like the man at her side.

‘A Brazilian friend of mine owns the club,’ Ruiz explained. ‘They have great food and even better dancing. A place like this will be dynamite for your column. Ready, Holly?’

As she would ever be, Holly thought, taking a deep breath.

When would she get another chance like this? Holly asked herself sensibly. The humour in Ruiz’s eyes reassured her, though when he rested his arm across her shoulders as they waited for the doorman to examine their faces through the grill, she had to tell herself that Ruiz was just doing his thing and that it was in his nature to make people feel good.

Richly carpeted steps led down to a luxurious, stone-flagged basement, where lead-paned glass glinted in the sultry glow of candles. The heavy polished furniture and rich draperies in ruby reds and regal purples gave the club an established sense of luxury and indulgence. Ruiz was right about it providing food for her column. It was not only packed, she could see now through the archway leading into the main dining room and dance floor, but, judging by the clientele, it was the hottest place in town. Her readers would definitely be interested, Holly thought as Ruiz held her coat. ‘Is that a samba they’re playing?’