by Lilac Mills
Feeling extremely out of place and rather threatened, Sophie stuck close behind Alex’s broad back as he strode into the depths of the café, figuring he could take the brunt of it, if anything should kick off.
The smell of cooking was making her mouth water, though, and she stole glances at people’s plates as she trotted behind him. The food did look delicious, she conceded, and her stomach gurgled loudly enough for her to hear it over the laughter and the talking. Music was playing in the background, but not so loud that it was obtrusive. It was seventies stuff, leaning towards heavy metal, and she recognised the sound of Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water. If she wasn’t feeling like a fish out of water, she might have been tempted to tap her toes.
A rotund man in a navy apron looked up from behind the counter and broke into a broad smile when he saw Alex. He put his (too-large) knife down next to the onion he had been chopping and walked out to greet him, his arms open wide.
The only word Sophie could make out was ‘Alejandro’ before her non-date for the evening was enveloped in a meaty hug and an incomprehensible stream of Spanish.
The two men drew apart after much backslapping, and the man in the apron held Alex at arm’s length and looked him up and down. Another hug followed, along with more slapping and patting before he finally let go and Alex was able to take a step back. Unfortunately, this meant that Sophie was in the man’s direct line of sight, and she smiled uncertainly as his gaze came to rest on her.
More Spanish followed, and she guessed he was asking Alex who she was.
Finally Alex introduced her. ‘Sophie, this is my good friend Bartolo. He owns this place, and he serves the finest conejo en salmorejo in the whole of the Canaries.’
‘Ah, my friend, you are too kind. It is nice to meet you,’ Bartolo said to her. He wiped his hand on his apron and held it out to her. When she took it, he leant forward and planted a kiss on the back of her hand.
‘Nice to meet you too,’ she replied politely.
‘Take a seat,’ he said to them. ‘I’ve reserved a table for you over there. Carlos! Bring wine. Lots of wine!’ He clapped his hands.
A waiter came over to them. ‘The good wine or the not too good?’ he asked, and Bartolo clicked his tongue.
‘Carlos, he is joking. I only serve good wine.’
‘I’ll have water,’ Alex said. ‘I’m driving.’
‘Pah. It won’t taste the same,’ he warned. ‘Food without wine is like church without prayer.’
Alex shook his head, grinning. ‘I’ll take my chances.’ He caught hold of her arm just above the elbow, to guide her to their table, and her eyes shot to him in shock as his touch raced along her nerve endings, startling her. The warmth of his fingers on her skin sent her heart racing and she inhaled sharply before letting the breath out slowly.
It was unexpected, that’s all, she told herself when he released her in order to pull out her chair, and she collapsed into it, grateful to sit down before her legs betrayed her.
What on earth was wrong with her?
Then she remembered that it was hours since she’d eaten, and she put her sudden weakness down to that.
Alex took his own seat, then looked at her, concern in his eyes. ‘Are you OK? I know this place mightn’t be to everyone’s taste, but believe me, the food is amazing.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘What are we having?’
‘Rabbit in salmorejo sauce. The meat is marinated overnight in red wine and herbs and once it is cooked, it’s so tender…’ He put his thumb and two fingers together and brought them to his lips, making a kissing motion.
Mesmerised, Sophie watched his lips pucker, and for a fleeting moment she imagined them on hers, the taste of them, the feel of them—
‘It can be a little bit spicy, but it is good with papas arrugadas.’ He mistook her bewilderment for incomprehension about the dish he’d mentioned, and he went on to explain. ‘Papas arrugadas are potatoes boiled in very salty water, drained, then tossed in sea salt. Probably the most famous Canarian dish.’
‘It sounds lovely,’ she said weakly, her attention still on those lips of his.
‘Don’t let all these bikers put you off,’ he added, once again misreading her – thankfully, because she’d be mortified if he knew what she was thinking. ‘They come here for the food too. And because Bartolo makes them welcome. His own bike is out the back under a tarpaulin. I keep urging him to sell it to me, but he’s a stubborn man.’
‘Do you ride a motorbike?’ She was grasping at straws here; anything to take her mind off the thoughts he’d inadvertently put in her head. It really had been a long time indeed since she’d been kissed.
‘I have done in the past, but with the increase in traffic on the roads since I was a teenager, it can be a bit scary.’
‘Were you brought up on Tenerife?’
‘Yes, partly. My parents ran a hotel in Costa Adeje until I was sixteen, and then we moved to Madrid. They’re still there, managing a boutique hotel in the city centre. But I’d always come back to the island whenever I got the chance.’
‘To see Hugo?’
Alex looked a little sheepish. ‘That too. But I’m ashamed to admit that it was Teide that drew me back. Ever since I was old enough to understand what they were, I was hooked by volcanoes. The thought that we live on the slopes of one of the most destructive – and creative, but that’s another story – forces of nature both terrified and fascinated me.’
‘But we’re not on the slopes of the mountain down at the villa,’ Sophie pointed out, thinking that he was speaking hypothetically. Up here in Santiago del Teide, they were admittedly a bit closer to the enormous volcano, but they still weren’t that close. She remembered passing through this picturesque little town on the way back from Masca Gorge when she’d gone on the coach tour, and she’d seen Teide in the distance, peeking through a circlet of clouds. It had looked so very far away.
‘Don’t you believe it,’ Alex was saying. ‘The villa is about fifty-two kilometres from the cone. That’s about thirty miles. In volcanic terms, it is nothing.’
‘Thirty miles seems a nice, safe distance.’
For a second Alex paused, then he said, ‘It is.’ But Sophie had the feeling he had been about to say something else.
‘You say you’re here for work? Is that to do with Teide?’ she asked.
‘Yes…’
‘Can you tell me about it?’
‘Not really.’
Why was he being so reticent? Then a horrid thought occurred to her. ‘Is Teide about to erupt?’ A mild panic invaded her mind at the very idea of such a thing.
‘Not at the moment.’
‘Not at the moment?’ Sophie squealed, then lowered her voice. ‘So it is going to erupt? Just not right now. Do you know when?’
‘Teide and all the other volcanoes on the island—’
‘There are others? Where?’ she interrupted, taking a quick glance out of the window, almost expecting to see another volcano growing in front of her eyes. Teide was hard to miss as it rose up in the centre of the island like a giant, rocky, upside-down ice cream cone, and although she hadn’t seen a great deal of Tenerife, she would have thought that another mountain the size of Teide would be hard to miss.
‘Everywhere,’ he said. ‘Teide is the largest and the most recognisable, but there are over three hundred that form the island.’
Sophie was about to ask for more details when their food arrived and her attention was diverted by the dishes placed in front of them. She wasn’t sure about eating rabbit, but it was a common sight in the supermarkets, she’d noticed, sitting alongside breasts of chicken and huge slabs of beef. It wasn’t something she’d tasted before, but she was willing to give it a go, and the stew looked and smelt amazing. Her tummy gurgled once more, and her mouth watered.
To her surprise, the meat tasted a little like chicken, and although the sauce was quite spicy, she found it extremely tasty. Before she knew it, she’d cleared her plate
and was using a hunk of the bread which had accompanied the meal to mop up any stray sauce. The spicy red salsa – mojo, she was told – accompanying the potatoes also had a bit of a kick and she took a large mouthful of wine to ease the pleasant tingling in her mouth.
‘That was delicious,’ she said, finally pushing her plate away and sitting back. She was so full she didn’t think she could move.
‘Have you got room for some queso asado?’ Alex asked her, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.
She didn’t, but she was willing to give it a try. ‘What is it?’ She knew queso was cheese, but asado was an unknown word.
‘It’s smoked goats’ cheese, usually fried or baked in the oven, and today it’s served with palm honey.’
‘Cheese and honey? Hmm, I’m not sure.’
‘Try it, it’s wonderful.’
So she did, and it was, and when she had eaten every last morsel, she was fairly certain she wouldn’t need to eat again for a week. She drank the rest of the wine in her glass too, then stared at Alex with heavy-lidded eyes. Replete didn’t begin to describe the way she was feeling. Surprisingly, she was also feeling calm and relaxed, and she wondered why on earth she had felt so intimidated by a few people in leather. From what she could see, they were simply normal folk out for a bite to eat and a nice evening. Just like she was.
Her gaze was drawn to Alex again, and she caught him studying her.
A warmth spread through her, starting in her chest and culminating in her cheeks, and she knew she was blushing. Cross with herself, she looked away. ‘Fancy a coffee?’
‘Why not? Bartolo,’ he called, ‘two espressos please.’
Good, she needed a strong shot of caffeine to counteract the effects of the wine, as she was feeling rather giddy and not quite herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d drunk this much, and she made a promise to herself not to drink so much in future if it had this effect on her. After two glasses she was feeling rather tipsy. And hot. It was really rather warm in here. No wonder her cheeks were aflame.
And the more she thought about how warm she was, the hotter her face became, until she was fairly sure she must resemble a tomato. Oh, that was it – she understood now. It was the food. The rabbit dish had been rather spicy… That explained it.
Feeling a bit of an idiot and anxious to draw Alex’s attention away from her glowing face, she asked him about some of the places he’d been to in the course of his work.
‘You must have visited some wonderful countries,’ she mused enviously.
‘Yes, and no,’ came the cryptic reply. ‘Hawaii, Japan, Guatemala all sound lovely – and don’t get me wrong, they are – but they are dangerous places too. The parts I see, anyway. Fresh lava fields where the heat is so intense it can strip the skin off your bones. Craters where you need breathing apparatus to survive, or you wouldn’t last five minutes. The threat of seismic activity, boulders the size of houses spewing from an erupting volcano…’ The excitement and passion on his face were unmistakable.
‘You love it,’ she observed.
He sighed. ‘You’re right, I do. But there are also the endless hours trekking to remote places to set up equipment, and the even more endless hours analysing what those pieces of equipment tell you. Most of my work tends to be done sitting in front of a computer.’
‘I wish I had something I was as passionate about,’ she said wistfully.
‘Washing Hugo’s socks doesn’t inspire you?’ he joked, and she wrinkled her nose at him.
‘It most certainly does not, although I do love living at the villa, and your uncle is an easy man to share a house with. He might not be as easy when he comes out of hospital, though.’
‘He most definitely won’t be,’ Alex agreed, calling for the bill. ‘He’ll be a pain in the behind. I’m glad it’s you who is looking after him, and not me.’
‘Are you?’
He gave her a rueful grin. ‘I am, truly. Despite the impression I gave.’
‘You’re not sending me back to the UK?’
‘No. It’ll be nice to have someone to wash my socks too.’ He winked, and she threw her napkin at him.
‘If you think I’m going to be running around after you, you’ve got another think coming,’ she warned.
‘Aww…’ The proprietor arrived at their table with a small platter holding their bill. ‘Thank you, Bartolo, it was delicious, as always.’
‘You must come again before you leave.’
‘I will.’ Alex glanced at Sophie. ‘We will.’
She reached for her bag and drew out her purse, but Alex was way ahead of her, his credit card already in Bartolo’s hands. ‘Let me pay my half, at least,’ she said.
‘No chance. Dinner was my idea. Besides, I am old-fashioned. If I take a lady out for a meal, then I want to pay.’
‘I’ll get it the next time,’ she said, then heat flooded her cheeks once more when she realised what she’d said. ‘I mean, if there is a next time. Which there might not be, so don’t feel obliged,’ she garbled.
‘I’m sure there will be,’ he said, pushing his chair away from the table and getting to his feet.
Sophie jumped up, nearly knocking her own chair over in her haste, and she bit her lip in consternation. She really needed to stop acting like such an idiot. Anyone would think she was nervous. Ha!
The journey back down to the coast was made in comparative silence, Alex concentrating on the steep, twisting, unlit road, Sophie trying not to concentrate on Alex and failing miserably. She was acutely conscious of his every move, and with each breath she took she could smell his aftershave and an underlying scent that seemed to be his and his alone.
Pheromones. That was it. Some people were more attractive to others because of the chemicals they gave off. She’d seen it on a documentary once. And alcohol didn’t help either, although she was starting to feel a little less squiffy.
By the time they pulled up outside the villa, she was feeling more herself. The trauma of last night, the argument with Alex today, a meal eaten far too late and with too much wine… There was a rational explanation for everything, and she’d discovered hers.
‘I think I’ll take Paco for a quick stroll,’ she said, even though it was extremely late (for her anyway, because she was normally in bed by ten thirty), but the poor dog had been on his own all evening and he probably needed to water a rock or two.
Alex unlocked the front door and held it open for her before following her inside. ‘You can’t go on your own,’ he said. ‘It’s too dark. I’ll come with you.’
She honestly didn’t think she wanted him to. It would have been nice to clear her head a little before she retired for the night, and having him by her side wasn’t going to help her get herself straight.
‘Better still,’ he added, ‘you stay here, and I’ll take him out.’
‘Paco is my responsibility,’ she protested. ‘I should be the one to walk him.’
‘Fine, then I am coming with you,’ he repeated.
Grumpily she swapped her sandals for a pair of trainers and slung a cardi around her shoulders, in case the breeze coming off the sea was a bit fresh.
Alex and a sedately excited Paco were waiting for her outside.
‘Which way?’ he asked.
Sophie shrugged. ‘That way?’ She pointed south towards Alcalá.
He began walking, the dog bounding ahead on large fluffy black paws and barely visible despite the full moon. Black dog, black volcanic rocks, dark ocean with the glitter of reflected light on the waves. Stars littered the sky and the lights of Alcalá twinkled in the distance. The night was bordering on magical, she thought, turning her face to the sky as she walked and marvelling at those distant diamond chips, losing herself to the vastness of space.
‘Oomph!’
She’d only gone and bumped straight into Alex, who steadied her, his hands catching the tops of her arms in a firm grip.
For a second she was facing his chest, her nose inches from th
e open V of his shirt, and the smell of him invaded her senses, making her head spin.
She let out her breath in a soft sigh. It was a long time since she’d been held by anyone, especially anyone male, and an urge to melt into his arms swept through her. When she took an involuntary step forward, his hands slipped from her arms and worked their way around her back, encircling her, and she relaxed into his embrace. It felt right, him holding her. It felt natural. It also felt incredibly reckless, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Her reaction to him was instinctive and visceral, and totally out of her control.
She tilted her head back and their eyes met. The depth in his made her senses reel; she could lose herself in them, drown in the desire she read in them, and she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her. His mouth hovered above hers and his soft, warm breath fanned her cheek as he stared down at her. Her lips parted of their own accord and her eyes began to close…
Paco bumped her leg.
Sophie drew in a sharp breath and the mood was broken.
Abruptly Alex dropped his hands to his side and she stepped smartly away from him, her legs trembling and her heart thudding so hard he must surely hear it above the rhythmic pounding of the waves.
He cleared his throat, and she gave a little cough.
‘Thanks,’ she said. Her voice was higher pitched than usual and sounded a bit breathy.
‘You’re welcome.’
She risked a quick glance as they carried on walking, but it was too dark to see his expression clearly, although the glitter of his eyes told her he’d returned her glance.
Sophie wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Had he been about to kiss her? Or, considerably more mortifying, had she assumed he’d been about to kiss her when he hadn’t intended doing anything of the sort?
She bit her lip, her attention on Paco, who was busily sniffing every rock and then cocking his leg against the ones that were acceptable to his discerning canine nose.