Page 18 of It Takes Three To Tango

“You mean you haven’t researched it for a book?” The words are out before I know it. I’ve acted instinctively, not giving a thought to whether he likes being teased. He looks straight at me, and for a beat I wish I could take it back. Then he tips his head back and laughs. I can’t help but join in, relieved that I haven’t upset him.

“No, not axe murdering.” His laughter subsides. “Poisons, though, those are a whole different story.”

The laughter dies in my throat. Is he telling the truth? Is he serious? Then I see the smirk on his face.

“Oh, you.” I tap his chest playfully. “You had me there.”

He’s still smiling. “Well, I do know all the effects of belladonna and other substances, but not everything I research for my books becomes a hobby. I’m just saying that perhaps she ought to have known a little more about me before inviting me to stay.”

“Well, I’m glad she invited you.” Another phrase I blurt out without thinking.

“Are you?” He tilts his head and regards me.

“Yes, of course.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I haven’t finished teaching you to dance yet.”

A smile breaks out on his face. I want to tell him how much I want to kiss him, feel his lips on mine. How much I want to taste him and watch his amber eyes shine as he comes undone by my touch. But I don’t, not yet. Now he’ll be staying here, so I can take my time.

“Then, shall we dance?” He holds out his hand with asmirk, well aware that this time, he’s the one who’s asked me to dance.

“I’d love to.” I bite back any smart remark I might be tempted to make and take his hand, leading him into the ballroom just as Constantin sits down at the piano and starts playing.

It’s my first morning in the mansion and I wake feeling refreshed. Maybe because I’ve slept better than I have done for weeks. There’s something about a hotel that makes it feel temporary, which means I find it hard to settle. That, and it was close to the city centre where bars don’t close until the early hours of the morning—I have had a few late nights at Constantin’s bar too. But without the noises of the traffic outside my window at all hours, I’ve slept deeply.

Of course, being here is also temporary, and I’m a guest in someone else’s house, but still, it feels different. Although Estrella is very generous and gracious and said her invitation is open-ended, I don’t want to overstay any welcome. So, after some negotiation—and, boy, she may be old, but she isstubborn—we agreed I would stay for a month. I have to remember that she’s dying, but if I ask her about it, she says we’re all dying and dismisses my question. When I said I was worried about overtaxing her, she said if she needed to rest, she would and thatwe, myself and Florencio, could entertain ourselves. Once I had satisfied myself that I wasn’t going to be a burden—and being told I was just as stubborn as she was—I allowed myself to relax.

A month is a good period. I feel it gives me some breathing space, some more distance from my life back in England. I can decide what I really want to do now, and I will, but first I need coffee. I pull on a T-shirt and some shorts as it looks like it’s going to be a warm day. It’ll be summer soon, so I might have to get a few more pairs of shorts while I’m here.

I wander through the cool corridors towards the kitchen, where I’m greeted by an amazing smell and Florencio wearing nothing but a pair of loose linen trousers. I would only take the expression “make yourself at home” so far, not as an invitation to wander around half-naked. I stop on the threshold, unwilling to enter just yet. I watch him stir something in a pan, the source of the delicious aromas, and then head to the coffee machine. He’s not bulky, but he’s more muscled than I thought he would be, not that I’ve thought about that at all. No, not until now, when I have a view of him topless in front of me.

He catches sight of me, while I’m still leaning against the doorframe, gawking.

“Buenos dias,”he calls and I answer the same.

“Do you want some breakfast? There are croissants, toast, or I’m cooking tortillas,” he asks, reaching for a bowl, which he starts cracking eggs into.

“Um, just coffee for now.” I move towards the coffee machine.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks brightly, and I pop a pod into the coffee machine before turning and replying.

“I did, thank you. It was very peaceful.”

“Bien.”He starts whisking the eggs.

“Um, is it okay to wander around topless? What would Juana say?” I look around, expecting her to appear at any moment. Whilst I might not understand what she says, I can imagine her frown and a flow of Spanish admonishing him. She might even banish him from the kitchen.

He erupts into laughter, bringing my attention back to him.

“You’re so British.” He grins. “I didn’t realise breakfast had a dress code. Anyway, Juana likes me. Just be thankful I’m not dressed in my usual silk shorts.”

He takes the egg mixture over to the stove, giving a little wiggle on the way. Hold on, did he just wiggle his arse at me? Did he also say silk? I really don’t need those images in my head. I clearly need some coffee. I grab my cup and take a long gulp before walking over to sit at the table.

Florencio finishes making the tortilla, plates it up, and puts a portion down in front of me.

“You were going to ask for some as soon as you saw mine,” he says simply and sits next to me. He’s not wrong, it looks appetising.

I take a forkful.

“Wow, that’s really good!” I say.

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