The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta. Susan Stephens
want to sit down in their fancy-pants café anyway. They probably charged twice as much here for a latte as they did at the popular chain down the road—
But rebuilding Holly meant never running away. And was she seriously going to make some pathetic excuse and leave an attractive man in the lurch?
Having cleaned herself up, she returned to find him reading the financial pages with her suitcase stowed safely at his feet. ‘I had to guess what you’d like,’ he said, setting the newspaper down.
‘Skinny latte and a toasted cheese and tomato ciabatta? You’re spoiling me—’
‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘I was ordering lunch, and I thought you might like some too.’
‘Thank you.’ An honest man was a refreshing change too. ‘It looks delicious …?’
‘Ruiz,’ he supplied, reaching over the table to shake her hand.
‘Holly.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Holly.’
A lightning bolt shot up her arm when they shook hands. And she shouldn’t be staring at him like this. ‘Ruiz?’ she said. ‘I love your name. It’s so unusual.’
‘My mother devoured romantic novels while she was pregnant. Mediterranean heroes?’
‘I was born on Christmas day.’
They laughed.
And now it occurred to her that she couldn’t remember the last time she had relaxed with a man. Laughing at the ex’s jokes was expected, even demanded, but laughing because she was happy only brought accusations that she was braying like a donkey. So she didn’t laugh.
‘Is the coffee okay for you?’ Ruiz said.
She looked at him. ‘Delicious. Thank you.’
He held her gaze with eyes that were warm and interested. She wanted to know more about him. ‘My guess is you’re between seasons and that’s why you’re in London—’
‘Between seasons?’ Ruiz queried, frowning as he sat back. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Ski and surf? The tan, the build …’ The confident swagger that came as standard equipment on a body when a man was in peak condition, she kept to herself.
‘Am I so unusual?’
‘Yes, you are.’ Holly curbed her smile as Ruiz glanced around. He stood out like a very tanned and elegant thumb amongst a room full of stressed-out sore thumbs. ‘But you’ve got a dog with you,’ she said, frowning as she progressed her thoughts, ‘so you must live close by.’
‘Must I?’ Ruiz queried with amusement. ‘Do you always go into this sleuth-mode when you meet someone for the first time?’
‘Sorry—it’s really none of my business.’
‘No harm done, Holly.’
She loved the way he said her name—and at least he had remembered it—not that she was a troll, but if beauty was a matter of millimetres she could do with that extra inch.
Relaxing back in his seat, Ruiz tipped a toast towards her with his cup, which made Holly wonder if she was guilty of becoming too comfortable with a man she knew nothing about just because they were here in this safest of settings. The best thing to do was drink up and leave, she concluded.
‘Hey, where’s the fire?’ Ruiz demanded as she gulped her coffee down.
How could anyone look so dangerous when they smiled? Ruiz’s gaze was dark and experienced—with the emphasis on experienced. Heat curled deep inside her as he curved a sexy smile. ‘I really should be going,’ she said, coming to her senses. Why didn’t her phone ring? What had happened to Lucia?
‘Why the rush?’
‘I thought you’d be pleased to be spared further investigation.’
‘No, I like to hear your musings,’ Ruiz argued. ‘You’ve got a great imagination, Holly. Are you a creative, by any chance?’
‘Advertising? No. I’m hoping to become a journalist,’ she explained, though right now she wondered if she would make it to the first pay cheque. As far as interview technique went she was pants. She still didn’t have a clue about Ruiz—where he came from, what he did—
‘Do you have a job lined up?’
Holly brightened at the thought of it. ‘Yes, I start as a lowly intern on ROCK! magazine on Monday—’
‘ROCK! magazine.’ Ruiz hummed, clearly impressed. ‘Congratulations. It’s not everyone who gets the chance to start their working life in London at the top of the tree.’
‘It’s not that much of a deal,’ Holly admitted. ‘You’ve heard of starting at the bottom? Well, this is the rung below that.’
Ruiz laughed and pushed his coffee cup away. ‘Tell me more,’ he encouraged.
‘I’ve been hired to work as a gofer on the team who write the agony-aunt column. The post is so low-key it’s practically invisible. I’m guessing that as long as my coffee-making technique is up to scratch, I’ll be fine.’
‘Well, at least you’re doing your research,’ Ruiz pointed out, adopting a mock-serious expression as he glanced at their empty cups.
Holly laughed. ‘What about you?’ She blushed as Ruiz angled his chin to stare at her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?’ she said. ‘You must think I’m rude asking you all these questions when we’ve only just met.’
‘No,’ Ruiz argued. ‘I think you’re a cute kid.’
Ouch.
‘I think you’ll make an excellent journalist one day.’
‘Is that a polite way of saying nosey’s in my genes?’
‘No. It means you’re interested in the world and those around you,’ Ruiz observed.
She wasn’t going to argue with him—especially as Holly’s world had just shrunk to the size of their table.
‘So, Holly-would-be-journalist, just for the record, I do love skiing and riding the waves, so you were right as far as that goes, but bumming around the world is not what I do.’
‘What is?’
Touching his nose, Ruiz grinned. ‘Look at it this way. Your interview technique can only get better from here on in.’
It would have to, Holly thought wryly, or she’d have nothing to write about. ‘Well, thank you for allowing me to try it out on you.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ Ruiz said with amusement, sexy lips pressing down.
And just as Holly was wondering how she could ever bear to look away and bring this folly to an end the waitress handed them the bill.
The café was filling up, the girl explained with an apologetic shrug, and they needed the table.
‘It’s lunchtime and people are keen to get out of the rain,’ Holly agreed, already on her feet. She had taken up enough of Ruiz’s time. She made a grab for the bill, but he was too fast for her. ‘My treat, remember?’ he said. ‘And if you change your mind about the dry-cleaning …’
‘I won’t.’ And then finally, as she extended the handle on her suitcase, Holly’s phone rang.
‘Let me help you,’ Ruiz suggested as she attempted to juggle her belongings and the phone.
Checking the number with relief, she answered and said quickly, ‘Can you give me a minute?’ Then holding the phone to her chest, she put Ruiz off as politely as she could. ‘That’s okay, honestly. I’ve got it. Sorry.’
‘You’re