by CJ Anaya
He set the fork down and rested a hand on mine, furthering whatever connection we’d just made and sealing it with a light touch that scattered my thoughts and sent my emotions into full panic mode.
No! This could not be happening. I’d sworn off men after Ian, content to live my life on the sidelines, an innocent bystander, watching everyone else endure the devastation that love tends to leave in its wake. I was prepared to pretend whatever connection we’d just made did not exist, but from the determined look in Miguel’s eyes, I felt almost certain he’d locked onto exactly what he wanted—for the moment, that is—and wouldn’t be easily deterred.
I wasn’t about to become another forgettable fling for this guy. I didn’t care how much I craved his touch or drooled in his presence. My gift didn’t allow for relationships. They simply could not co-exist, not harmoniously anyway.
The waiter came then to refill our glasses, and the heavy emotions settling around us drifted away on the warm ocean breeze. I pulled my hand out from under Miguel’s and leaned all the way back in my chair.
The waiter would feel the full force of my gratitude when he found an exorbitant tip awaiting him on the table after Miguel and I left.
Wait a second! What was I thinking?
Why did I delude myself into believing, for even one moment, that this man had set his sights on me? My nervous tension coupled with the romantic setting had allowed my imagination to run wild with the possibility of finding love on a beautiful island with a handsome stranger who just happened to be booked in the same suite.
With my ability to take reality and twist it into my own fictitious idea of what was currently happening between Miguel and me, it would be more than easy to quit my column and write romance novels. They would be chalk full of mysterious Spaniards relentlessly pursuing relationships with reluctant yet vulnerable females who possessed heaving bosoms, hourglass figures and come-hither stares that were in direct contrast to their pointless denials of love.
If only!
He lifted his fork, speared more of that delicious catfish and lifted it to my mouth again. I gave in and took one more bite, not because I enjoyed the intimacy of his actions, but simply because I was hungry.
Yep. One hundred percent famished.
I managed to swallow the food without choking to death when he gave me another one of his gorgeous smiles.
“So, am I allowed to know what your column is about or are you going to deflect the question again?” Miguel’s knowing smile had the power to bat down my reticence on the subject of me, but only just.
“I specialize in proving or disproving claims of hauntings, and then I write my findings in my column.” I took another sip of my water. “That’s it. That’s what my column is about.” I ducked my head a little and focused on my less than appetizing salad, waiting for some kind of joke or snide comment about my career path.
“Now that’s an interesting subject to write about. I’ve never met a woman brave enough to visit haunted areas all by herself.”
I gave him a sharp look, wondering if he was serious or mocking me.
“I don’t need a chaperon. I use my equipment to get readings on the amount of paranormal activity in a house or building, and then I research the history of the ghosts said to be haunting the area and incorporate that into my article. It’s more sensationalism than anything else, but my readers enjoy the stories and the findings.”
Miguel stroked his fingers along his wine glass as he thoughtfully contemplated my answer. He had this wonderful ability to make me feel as if everything I said happened to be the most fascinating bit of information he’d ever received.
“Sounds as if you’re a skeptic. You’ve never actually witnessed these ghosts? You simply use your equipment?”
“To be perfectly honest, I don’t believe in ghosts. You assume that I possess courage in the face of something that so many people fear, but the truth is this: you simply cannot be afraid of something you don’t believe in.”
His eyes narrowed. "You don’t believe in ghosts? Yet there are places you have proved harbor ghosts, yes?"
I shrugged my shoulders. “I simply report what my equipment shows. If the readings indicate paranormal activity then that’s what I report, but I don’t actually believe in it myself. It’s a fun way to make a living.”
“I didn’t see you bring any equipment with you.”
“It’s in my suitcase.”
“With all of your clothing? How did you fit everything in?”
“My equipment is fairly compact.”
He gave me a puzzled look. “I would very much like to see how your process works.”
Yeah. That was never going to happen.
I could feel myself hyperventilating at the thought. Spending extra time with Miguel Galvez and adopting an air of normalcy while unexpectedly being sucked into one of my summonings would be a nightmare. I sighed, coming to the sad conclusion that hanging out with Miguel would lead to some very awkward situations impossible for me to explain without him driving me to the nearest psych ward.
Also, preventing myself from reading into any flirtatious attention he sent my way would be as insurmountable as throwing a large piece of chocolate in front of me and expecting me to ignore it. The only way to protect myself, my heart, and my secrets from this tasty Spaniard was to put him at arm’s length and keep him there.
“I’m afraid I work best when I work alone.”
His lips quirked into a smile. “But you and I, we are not alone. We happen to be sharing the same suite.”
Oh, he just had to bring that up again. Like I wasn’t thinking about it every single second since it’d happened. “Yes we are, but I’m sure you’ll be fairly busy during the day with your search for those missing pieces.”
“I think I would have time for a demonstration.” His smile looked innocent enough, but I got the feeling he was baiting me and possibly hadn’t believed a word I’d just said.
Oh, the web of lies I was weaving. Treading carefully around my real process proved to be challenging in the face of Miguel’s relentless questions.
“I don’t like working with an audience, and I’m sure you’ll have plenty of other things to attend to.”
“Nothing I can’t move around.”
I supposed his curiosity was normal, considering what I claimed to do. Ghost hunting shows were pretty popular these days, but his interest didn’t feel as if it stemmed from a natural curiosity. No. It felt like he was hoping to prove something he already suspected. He was too perceptive, and clearly suspicious of what I did and how I did it.
“Look Miguel, I think it might be best if we didn’t spend any more time together than is absolutely necessary.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Why? Do you have a significant other that I should know about? Are you already promised to someone else?”
Promised? I thought it weird he should put it like that.
“No, but—”
“You are single, yes?”
“Yes, but—”
He smiled. “Then there can be nothing wrong with spending the evenings together. After all, we’ll be spending the nights together as well.”
My mouth dropped open. “We are not going to be spending the nights together!”
He chuckled at that. “Do not mistake my meaning. I will, of course, sleep on the sofa. I only meant we will be in the same room all night long. It makes sense we should spend time together. Get to know one another. It might make our situation a little less uncomfortable.”
He wasn’t going to let this go.
“We can’t spend any time together...period,” I blurted out.
He managed to look nonplussed in the face of my bold declaration. “Why?”
“I’ve already told you why.”
“You’ve told me why I can’t see your ghost hunting process, but you haven’t given me one good reason why I should ignore and avoid a beautiful woman like yourself.”
My eyebr
ows hit the roof. Beautiful? This guy could really lay the flattery on thick when he wanted something, and I was shamelessly eating it up.
A delicious smile spread across his lips. “Tell me why I can’t spend my evenings with you.”
I searched for some plausible excuse before stammering. “Because...because...I’m a total snore.”
He laughed outright at that. “That’s a lie. Boring is not a word I would use to describe you.”
“I’m simply not good company.”
“Also a lie, though I’m beginning to think you don’t find my company all that appealing.”
Great. Now I’d offended him. “No, of course I don’t—”
“You mean, you don’t find my company appealing?”
“No, I mean I do,” I stammered, shaking my head.
“Am I repulsive?”
“What?”
“When you look at me, are you not even remotely attracted to me? Do you not feel any kind of pull or chemistry?”
“Why are you asking me this? We hardly know each other, and I’m not about to tell you how handsome you are.”
“Then I am ugly?”
I gripped my water glass like I would a life preserver, hoping it might somehow save me from this sinking ship. “That’s not...oh, for heaven’s sake...you know you’re gorgeous. Right? I mean, I’m sure you’ve unleashed those milk chocolate eyes of yours on more than one unsuspecting female, and no doubt she became pliant and pliable in your wonderfully capable hands.”
The amused look on his face made me angry, but I couldn’t seem to shut up now. “As far as I’m concerned, no woman on this earth will ever be able to focus on anything other than your broad shoulders and bulging biceps, wondering how it might feel if those manly arms of yours were to encircle her around her waist and pull her into the kind of embrace that starts with mouthwatering kisses and ends with the most fabulous love making this side of heaven.”
His eyes seemed to devour me with their intensity as he quietly asked, “And this is something you would wish to avoid?”
“Hell to the yes,” I exploded.
He remained silent for a few moments, studying me. The amusement on his face slipping away only to be replaced by an interested, predatory gleam.
“Why?”
I didn’t like the way he eyed me as if I’d just presented him with a challenge, one he’d fight tigers to meet. This was not a game, and I was not playing hard to get. I decided to be more honest and truthful with him.
“Most of the women you’ve met are capable of the same level of indifference you no doubt exhibit after the fact. They’re happy to consider all of that lovely time spent with you as nothing but a tryst, a mere fling. People like that, like you, never once look back and wonder how that potential relationship might have blossomed. You never spare one moment to consider that you might be giving up on the kind of happiness a person can only experience once in a lifetime. It’s the kind of relationship everyone is searching for, whether they admit to it or not.”
I took another sip of water, bracing myself as I kept my eyes glued to Miguel’s probing gaze, wondering how on earth this conversation had taken such a serious turn. How could I be talking about love and relationships with a man I barely knew, and on a date that wasn’t really a date?
I swallowed hard before continuing. “I can’t do that. I...I’ll never be that woman. I can’t shrug away shared moments of affection and intimacy without losing a small piece of myself in the process. You’re incredibly easy to like Miguel, but you’d be even easier to love.”
The tension building between us seemed to reach a near breaking point as we stayed locked in our super charged staring match.
“Are you afraid to fall in love with me, Analise?”
I nearly choked at such a direct question.
“Terrified.”
His smoky gaze sought to draw me out further with his next question. “And you believe, after spending a week together, you could fall in love with me?”
I let out a deep breath, and faced his question head on. “If I did fall in love with you, Miguel Galvez, would you ever let me keep you?”
My question elicited a look of amazement as he leaned closer to me rather than further away. “You hold nothing back, do you? You never edit your comments.” His voice sounded a bit hoarse as he let out a surprisingly shaky laugh.
“I’m a writer. I save the editing for my columns. Life is too short to be misunderstood, and I need you to understand me.”
“You think I’m used to having my way with females? That I’m some kind of womanizer, a shameless flirt?” Surprisingly, he didn’t sound offended. He sat eerily calm in the face of those unflattering accusations.
“I don’t know, but I’m certainly never going to allow myself to find out. I like you, and I’m attracted to you, but I refuse to delve any further into it than that.”
“You know nothing about me. At least nothing that can either prove or disprove your theory.”
I gave him a strained smile. “Let’s keep it that way.”
That predatory look of his was back again. I had been more than honest with him, brutally so, and he’d already batted away every single excuse and obstacle I’d placed before him.
“And what happens if I fall in love with you?”
I shook my head, giving him a smile filled with disbelief.
“One: you don’t seem like the type of guy interested in emotions that might permanently tie you to any one female. Two: if you are, by some small miracle, looking for a woman to love, I highly doubt it would be a woman like me, and finally, loving me would be more complicated than you could possibly imagine.”
“But I am imagining it.”
“Don’t.”
My voice sounded terse and pained. Why was this guy messing with me? The thought of having a normal relationship with anyone let alone the gorgeous man seated in front of me was more painful than anything I’d ever experienced simply because I knew it could never happen.
Ever.
Never.
He studied me again for a few moments and then reached his hand across the table, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist, rescuing my water glass from my strangled grip. He lightly caressed the palm of my hand as I tried to keep my scattered thoughts in order and remember why I was trying to avoid him in the first place.
He looked at me longingly and then asked, “What did he do to you, Analise?”
His question brought me up short.
“Excuse me?”
“The man who left you so distrustful. What did he do to make it so?”
Without warning, a ball of emotion lodged itself in my throat as the room became distorted from the unexpected moisture in my eyes. I cleared my throat and looked at my salad, blinking back the tears before they could make their way down my cheeks.
How in the world...? This guy was good. It’d taken months, almost years to move on after Ian’s betrayal, and with just a few comments, Miguel’s obvious pity and ignorant assumptions had managed to wreak havoc on all of my emotional achievements. Now we were going to bond by talking about my sob story?
Absolutely not!
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to pull my hand away from his, but he took a firmer hold on it.
“Of course you do. No one is capable of talking about love the way you do without ever having experienced the fiery intensity of its presence or the aching cold of its absence.”
I couldn’t talk about this. I couldn’t even think about this. My breathing became irregular as the veranda began to tilt and sway.
Oh, no. Not now. How was it possible that another summoning was coming on now? I wasn’t anywhere near Windswept.
Upon entering the restaurant, I hadn’t sensed anything supernatural or otherworldly, yet here I sat, fighting off some stupid spirit’s summoning. This whole conversation with Miguel had undone me so completely, I couldn’t control my own summonings anymore. I stood up from my seat in a
jerky motion and wrenched my hand from his. He looked slightly surprised by my actions.
“Analise—”
“I...need...I...” I felt my body sway dangerously to the left, and I had to grasp the back of my chair to steady myself.
“What is happening, Analise?”
“I need to leave, please. I can’t hold it off much longer.”
I felt certain Miguel would demand some kind of explanation, but all I heard was the grating of a chair against the floor, and then he lifted me in his arms as I fought off a wave of blackness. I squinted my eyes in an attempt to focus on the brightness of the afternoon sun as Miguel took a set of steps leading off the veranda toward the parking lot in front of the restaurant. Within minutes, he had deposited me on the passenger seat of his rental.
I immediately started pinching my legs, my arms, any part of my body that might keep me awake long enough to get me back to my room. I wasn’t sure what this spirit’s range might be. Most of them tended to stay close to the area they haunted, but I didn’t know how far it would travel in an attempt to summon me.
Miguel sat in the driver’s seat and then turned to me.
“What can I do?”
“Drive,” I croaked. “You need to drive as fast as you can before I pass out.”
“Tell me what is happening to you.”
I pinched myself harder as Miguel put the car in gear and pealed out of the parking lot. There was no way I could attribute another fainting spell to low blood sugar, considering I’d had more than enough of his meal. Nope. It looked as if all of my closely guarded secrets were about to manifest themselves, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it this time.
“Miguel, if I go under you have to promise me you won’t check for a pulse.”
I glanced up at him through hazy eyes to see the look of incredulity on his face.
“Why would you say that to me?”
“You just can’t check my vitals, okay?”
“Why? Tell me why.”
We’d sped a good distance from the restaurant, but the spirit’s hold on me seemed to be getting stronger.