by Jan Moran
Johnny glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’ve always liked a decisive woman.”
Scarlett looked at him and burst out laughing. “Let them track that.”
“You can use mine, just don’t call the office.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He placed his hand on her knee. “Let’s have some fun on this road trip.”
They drove in silence for a while, and Scarlett stole glances at Johnny. Did she dare let their feelings progress? If she did, and their romance ended in disaster, as some of her relationships had, their friendship would be ruined. Johnny was an important thread in her life; he was a connection to her brother. Was this a risk she was willing to take?
They whizzed past a directional sign for Sevilla, and Johnny veered off the road. They stopped at a tapas bar, where Scarlett explained some of the traditional dishes she’d grown up with.
Johnny loved the food. “Maybe Isabel can share some of her secret recipes with Lance.”
“She’d like that. You know she’s always been an excellent cook. It would give her something to do.”
“And lessen her fixation on your producing grandchildren, you mean?”
Scarlett widened her eyes. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” Johnny said with a wink.
Afterward, with shops closing for the afternoon siesta, they spied a magnificent stone fountain in the midst of a square, which, judging from the number of people there, was a favorite spot for lovers, both young and old.
The warm afternoon sun hung high in the sky. They sat on a bench covered with blue and yellow hand-painted tiles, listened to the fountain’s gentle splashing, enjoyed the cool breeze that touched the water, and talked about Johnny’s plans for the restaurant. It was a perfect afternoon.
Succumbing to the relaxed pace, they decided to stay in Seville that evening. They found a quaint pensione covered in a riot of pink bougainvillea.
Later that evening they cuddled together in a large iron bed that squeaked whenever they moved. Wearing a short, though modest gown, Scarlett faced Johnny in bed on cool, crisp white bed linens. He wore multicolored polka-dot briefs, and his chest was bare. She suppressed a grin. Did he match his underwear to his bow-ties? He sure favored wild prints in both.
She ran her fingers through his thick curls as they whispered in the night. He caressed her skin and nuzzled her shoulders, but he didn’t pressure her to go on. Was Johnny having similar reservations about her, too? Yet his speech was peppered with endearments.
“So, querida, how many boyfriends did you have in New York?” He smoothed wayward strands of hair from her forehead. “Did you leave any broken hearts behind?”
Scarlett laughed softly. “I’d like to say I left legions of love-starved men in my wake, but I’d be lying. As an associate, I didn’t have much time for a personal life.”
“You didn’t make time, you mean.”
“No, because I didn’t meet anyone who meant that much to me.”
“Yet you’re making time now.” Johnny kissed her forehead.
Her heart pounded so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. “I needed a break.” She saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. Why couldn’t she admit that she was incredibly drawn to him? “And you’re different,” she added. The light of happiness returned to his eyes.
They continued talking about their families, and their future goals. Johnny told her more about their plans for the restaurant, and Scarlett listened, enjoying the passion in his deep voice.
He truly cared about making people feel welcome and comfortable and special, whether they were an A-list star, or a tourist they might never see again.
“You never know who they’ll tell,” Johnny said. “With social media, any good—or bad—experiences can be blasted around the world in mere seconds.”
Johnny ran a finger along her neck, and she shivered with pleasure. “Now that you’re off the partner track, have you thought of doing something else? If you could do anything in the world, mi amor, what would you do?” he asked. “Anything, anywhere.”
Scarlett considered his words. “There’s still a chance I could make it next year.” Much less of a chance, she knew. “I enjoy helping people, especially entrepreneurs in the creative arts who are just getting started. If I weren’t at Marsh & Gold, I’d still want to practice law. It’s intellectually fulfilling, and empowering.”
Johnny’s deep brown eyes crinkled at the edges in a warm smile. “Scarlett, you have the ability to do whatever your heart desires.”
If she didn’t make partner, what would she do? Would she want to stay there? Many firms had an up-or-out policy, though exceptions were made for stellar specialists. “Actually, I think I’d like to run my own firm someday.”
“Then you want to be an entrepreneur, too.”
“I guess so.” She rolled onto her back and flung an arm over her head, while Johnny trailed his fingers along her other arm. She’d never felt so at ease with a man before. “But that’s probably a long time away.”
Johnny slid a hand under his head. “Whatever you decide, you have my support.”
Scarlett sought his eyes out, checking for truth. “You mean that? You’re not going to deride me if I make an error in judgment?”
“No, why would I?”
She blinked a few times, recalling childhood dramas. “I loved my father, but when he drank alcohol, he became verbally abusive toward my mother. He would ridicule her ideas, and belittle her efforts, and scorn her for simple mistakes. He never actually struck her, but his words damaged her self-esteem all the same. I saw it, and I always jumped to her defense.”
“I remember that, too,” Johnny said, smoothing her furrowed brow. “I always felt sorry for your mother. She’s a class act. Just like her daughter.”
“My father was frustrated. He came here for a better life for his family, but he was never able to hold the same positions he could have in Spain. His command of the language was never quite good enough. In many ways, it was hard for him to adjust. But once they arrived, my mother was determined to remain in America and become a citizen, though she loved her native country, too. She thought she was doing what was best for her children’s future.”
“Times have changed, Scarlett. Women don’t have to live like that anymore.”
“Thank goodness. I’m so wary, watching for signs like that in men I’ve dated.”
“Nothing wrong with wanting to protect yourself, or insisting on a good relationship. You’re worth it, Scarlett. A thousand times over, mi amor.”
Scarlett’s eyelids grew heavy. She heard Johnny’s breathing deepen, and she rolled toward him, running her hands over his torso and cuddling close enough to feel his strong heartbeat. Utter perfection, she thought, before drifting off to sleep.
12
THEY ROSE WITH the pink sky of dawn the next morning. While Scarlett bathed and dressed, Johnny went out for an early morning run.
When he returned, Johnny tapped on the door. “Decent?”
“Come on in. You’ve seen most of what there is to see.” She was just zipping up a tangerine-colored sundress. Still, she liked his manners. “Is that coffee I smell? If it is, I promise I’ll love you forever.”
“If I’d known you were that easy, I’d have started with the coffee angle long ago.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Café con leche. Light, just the way you like it. We’ll stop for a proper desayuno later.”
“Mmm, I’d like that. I don’t know why I’m starving.” She glanced at the damp T-shirt clinging to his chest, and then dropped her gaze to his muscled legs. “Oh, sweaty man. Into the shower with you.”
“That was a great run. Such beautiful architecture.”
“It’s been a cultural melting pot. Lots of Moorish influence here.”
“The lady who made our coffee gave me some places we need to see, like Las Setas.” He swirled his hands in the air with excitement.
“Mushrooms?”
> “That’s what they call it. It’s a giant wooden structure. Seems a lot of people love to hate it here.”
Scarlett laughed and tossed him a towel. “Hurry up. In the shower. I won’t get into the car with you like that.”
After they checked out of the pensione, they had breakfast and took in the sights. They climbed the steps to see Las Setas, formally known as the Metropol Parasol, an enormous German-designed wood structure near La Encarnación Square, which Johnny found intriguing. “Who would imagine seeing this here?”
They strolled around the expansive Plaza de España, exclaiming over a sea of ornately painted tiles. They found the beauty of the Seville Cathedral and its towering gothic architecture awe-inspiring, as was the opulently layered Royal Alcázar Palace, called the Reales Alcázares de Sevilla, originally a Moorish fort dating from the thirteenth century.
Scarlett’s imagination took flight in the dazzling Arabian palace. Mosaics twinkled with gold leaf, and carved ceilings were light and lacy. She was astounded by the Alcázar’s intricate decorative designs and graceful arches. “Fianna and Dahlia would love to see this, too,” she said, twirling under a soaring dome as Johnny swung her around. “They’re so artistic; I can just imagine how inspired they’d be by all of this.”
In the gardens, they wandered through a clipped hedge maze, while scented orange groves perfumed the sunny grounds. Scarlett thought she’d never had a day filled with such beauty in her life.
Later, after lunch, they strolled through the Parque de María Luisa, where horse-drawn carriages ferried lovers around the grounds. Scarlett felt as though she’d been whisked back in time.
They walked on, admiring the botanical gardens and enchanting tile work. Soon Johnny swept her into a round, domed pergola with an ancient stone foundation. Scarlett leaned against a wooden railing and gazed out over a sun-dappled pond, where ducks plied the placid water.
Johnny stood behind her and ran a hand over her hair. “I’ve always loved your hair,” he said, letting strands fall through his fingers. “I wish you could see how the sun lights your bronze curls, Scarlett.”
She shook her hair out in the gentle breeze that wafted through the open pergola. He lifted her hair and touched his lips to her neck, sending waves of desire through her. But they were life-long friends, and she had to know what his thoughts were before they made an irrevocable mistake.
She turned and lifted her face to his. “Johnny, what are we doing?”
His eyes, dark as rich mahogany, spoke volumes. “We’re discovering each other. I thought that’s what you wanted.” He played with the strap of her sundress.
“I don’t know what I want.” That wasn’t quite true. Scarlett knew exactly what she wanted—a lover, a life-long companion, a best friend, a father to her children—but was it Johnny? “We’ve known one another for so many years. Are we merely comfortable together?”
Johnny brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. Scarlett, I think I’m—”
She pressed her fingers against his lips. Swiftly he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in such an all-encompassing embrace that the world around them fell away, and it was as if they were the only two souls on earth.
She pressed her cheek to his chest. His heart pulsed in a rapid rhythm, mirroring hers. His cotton shirt smelled of sandalwood, and she ran her fingers over the tight weave, flicking the top button open to explore the warmth of his skin.
“Oh, Scarlett,” he murmured. “You’re driving me crazy. You always have.” He framed her face in his hands and kissed her with such passionate longing that he took her breath away.
Feeling his kiss scorch her body, Scarlett arched her neck, hungry for more, but Johnny pulled away. A smile flickered on his lips. Those lips. She blinked and caught her breath. “Wow. Oh. My.” No wonder women fell at his feet. He was smooth. Did he kiss Carla Ramirez this way? She shook her head.
Johnny tilted her chin. “My beautiful, brilliant, somewhat naïve Scarlett.” His eyes held amusement.
Or is he mocking me? “I’m not that naïve,” she huffed, and stepped back.
“Scarlett, please. I find you such an, an oxymoron.”
She took another step back. “A what?”
“An oxymoron. You know, like jumbo shrimp.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Aw hell, bad choice of words.”
“Jumbo shrimp? Well, that’s a new one. I don’t think any man has ever kissed me and then segued to jumbo shrimp.” She crossed her arms and leaned against a column.
Johnny looked oddly flustered. “How about bittersweet? Bitter and sweet.” He caught her glare. “Or sweet and bitter. That’s kind of what I meant.”
“Do me a favor, please don’t keep digging. The hole is getting deeper, and I can’t stand to see you fall.” She swished past him, her skirt whipping against his legs.
Johnny slapped his forehead. “Guess it’s time to go.”
The Citroën convertible top was down, and Scarlett fastened her loose hair with a clasp against the breeze. It was still siesta time, so there wasn’t much traffic.
“We’ll make Cádiz by evening,” Johnny said, as he steered onto the highway. “Want to make any phone calls while we drive?”
“I should call my mother.” Scarlett picked up his phone. “Did you know you had a call from Carla?”
“Carla who?”
“Oh, please. Carla Ramirez. Why is she tracking you down here?” Johnny didn’t answer. Mildly annoyed, she tapped her mother’s phone number.
Isabel answered right away. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but your phone goes right to voice-mail. What happened? I thought you were traveling south today.”
“We are. I, ah… lost my phone. But take Johnny’s number if you need to reach me.”
“There’s someone who’s been calling for you, nena.”
“Who?”
“A man. He’s pleasant, but won’t give his name. I don’t trust him.” She sniffed. “Sounds like an abogado.” Isabel sucked in a breath. “Aye, dios mio. I didn’t mean it that way. Lo siento.”
“Mamá! Even my mother dislikes lawyers?” Scarlett rolled her eyes while Johnny chuckled. Still, her neck bristled at the news.
“This is serious, nena. He’s not giving up. What should I say to him?”
“Tell him the truth. Tell him you don’t trust lawyers.” She didn’t want to alarm her mother by sharing with her what was happening in Spain. Her mother huffed on the other end of the line. “Just say I can’t be reached, which is true, but don’t give him any idea where I might be.”
“He said he knew you were in Spain.”
Of course he does. Scarlett’s tension tightened a notch. She reassured her mother and told her she’d call her again when she reached her cousin Teresa’s home. She clicked the phone off, her senses on high alert.
Johnny threw her a look. “What did she say?”
“Someone has been calling my mother looking for me.”
“Didn’t David say something like that at the hotel before he left?”
“Sort of. He started to say something about a call he’d received, but then Lucan came along.”
“I don’t like this, Scarlett.”
“Neither do I.” Her neck was crawling with apprehension. She flicked on the radio. “Can’t do anything about it until I return, can I?”
Johnny curved one corner of his lips, revealing the fine dimple in his cheek she’d always adored. She stole another look at his profile, at his high cheekbones and dark swath of eyebrows, and the full lips that had threatened to buckle her knees.
She snapped her head back to the passing scenery.
Darkness gathered as they drove, and millions of stars twinkled in the sky, like so many silvery fairy lights illuminating the heavens.
Johnny could smell the damp marine scent of the ocean as they drew nearer the southwestern coast of Spain. In the seat next to him, Scarlett had her head thrown back and was staring a
t the constellations.
If Scarlett was worried, he was even more so. He’d waited a lifetime to express his feelings to her, and he wouldn’t have her threatened or endangered. What kind of people had she been dealing with? Whoever they were, they’d have to get past him first.
He glanced at her well-defined arms, bronze against her tangerine sundress. She might have bested one attacker, but the episode at the Ritz in Madrid had been far too dangerous. Better they stay off the radar.
Scarlett had called her mother’s cousin earlier. Teresa wasn’t available, but her housekeeper gave Scarlett the address and told her they would be home soon.
As they drove into the coastal community, Johnny heard songs and laughter spilling from the streets.
Scarlett glanced at him, “What do you think that is?”
“Sounds like a party.”
The music grew louder. “That’s some party. Sounds like the whole town.”
Johnny turned a corner onto a small lane, and a group of masked court jesters jogged toward them, singing and dancing. Behind them, musketeers in sherbet shades and towering top hats were playing a kazoo and keeping time with sticks. A woman linked hands with three children dressed as tiny clowns before they crossed the street.
Johnny jerked the steering wheel, swerving to avoid the joyful melee. “What the—”
“Oh, I think I know what this is. I’ve heard about it from my mother.” Scarlett bounced in her seat with excitement. “Look,” she said, pointing to a colorful banner. “It’s Los Carnavales, one of the best carnival celebrations in the world. Watch out, there are more coming.”
A flatbed truck filled with hay was aiming right toward them. Crammed in the back was another costumed group clutching lutes and guitars. A second gang of gaily festooned revelers were clamoring for a song.
Johnny yanked the wheel. “I think the running of the bulls is safer than this.”