The spanish love deception

03.09.202203.09.2022 admin 0 Comments

The spanish love deception

Цикл книг «Испанский любовный обман» — 2 книги

Последние добавленные книги

ISBN:	9798705893843
Год издания:	2021
Издательство:	Elena Armas
Язык:	Английский

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

That would certainly be tomorrow’s headline in the local newspaper of the small Spanish town I came from. Or the epitaph on my tombstone, seeing the turn my life had taken in the span of a phone call.

Four weeks wasn’t a lot of time to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic–from NYC and all the way to Spain–for a wedding. Let alone, someone eager to play along my charade. But that didn’t mean I was desperate enough to bring the 6’4 blue eyed pain in my ass standing before me.

Aaron Blackford. The man whose main occupation was making my blood boil had just offered himself to be my date. Right after inserting his nose in my business, calling me delusional, and calling himself my best option. See? Outrageous. Aggravating. Blood boiling. And much to my total despair, also right. Which left me with a surly and extra large dilemma in my hands. Was it worth the suffering to bring my colleague and bane of my existence as my fake boyfriend to my sister’s wedding? Or was I better off coming clean and facing the consequences of my panic induced lie?

Like my abuela would say, que dios nos pille confesados.

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

Catalina Martín, finally, not single. Her…

ISBN:	9781398515642
Год издания:	2022
Издательство:	Simon & Schuster UK
Язык:	Английский

From the author of the Goodreads Choice Award winner The Spanish Love Deception, the eagerly anticipated follow-up featuring Rosie Graham and Lucas Martín, who are forced to share a New York apartment.

Rosie Graham has a problem. A few, actually. She just quit her well paid job to focus on her secret career as a romance writer. She hasn’t told her family and now has terrible writer’s block. Then, the ceiling of her New York apartment literally crumbles on her. Luckily she has her best friend Lina’s spare key while she’s out of town. But Rosie doesn’t know that Lina has already lent her apartment to her cousin Lucas, who Rosie has been stalking—for lack of a better word—on Instagram for the last few months. Lucas seems intent on coming to her rescue like a Spanish knight in shining armor. Only this one strolls around the place in a towel, has a distracting grin, and an irresistible accent. Oh, and he cooks.

Lucas offers to let Rosie stay with him, at least until she can find some affordable temporary housing. And then he proposes an outrageous experiment to bring back her literary muse and meet her deadline: He’ll take her on a series of experimental dates meant to jump-start her romantic inspiration. Rosie has nothing to lose. Her silly, online crush is totally under control—but Lucas’s time in New York has an expiration date, and six weeks may not be enough, for either her or her deadline.

From the author of the Goodreads Choice Award winner The Spanish Love Deception, the eagerly anticipated follow-up featuring Rosie Graham and Lucas Martín, who are forced to share…

The spanish love deception

About the Author

To those chasing dreams,

never give up on them.

We are not quitters, you hear me?

“I’ll be your date to the wedding.”

Words I had never—not even in my wildest dreams, and trust me, I had a vivid imagination—conceived of hearing from that deep and rich tone reached my ears.

Looking down at my coffee, I squinted my eyes, trying to search for any signs of noxious substances floating around. That would at least explain what was happening. But nope.

Nothing. Just what was left of my Americano.

“I’ll do it if you need someone that badly,” the deep voice came again.

Eyes growing wide, I lifted my head. I opened my mouth and then snapped it closed again.

“Rosie …” I trailed off, the word leaving me in a whisper. “Is he really there? Can you see him? Or did someone spike my coffee without me noticing?”

Rosie—my best friend and colleague in InTech, the New York City–based engineering consulting company, where we had met and worked—slowly nodded her head. I watched her dark curls bounce with the motion, an expression of disbelief marring her otherwise soft features. She lowered her voice. “Nope. He’s right there.” Her head peeked around me very quickly. “Hi. Good morning!” she said brightly before her attention returned to my face. “Right behind you.”

Lips parted, I stared at my friend for a long moment. We were standing at the far end of the hallway of the eleventh floor of the InTech headquarters. Both our offices were relatively close together, so the moment I had entered the building located in the heart of Manhattan, in the vicinity of Central Park, I had gone straight to her office.

My plan had been to grab Rosie and plop down on the upholstered wooden armchairs that served as a waiting sitting area for visiting clients, which were usually unoccupied this early in the morning. But we never made it. I somehow dropped the bomb before we ever sat down. That was how much my predicament needed Rosie’s immediate attention. And then … then he had materialized out of nowhere.

“Should I repeat that a third time?” His question sent a new wave of disbelief rushing down my body, freezing the blood in my veins.

He wouldn’t. Not because he couldn’t, but because what he was saying did not make any freaking sense. Not in our world. One where we—

“All right, fine,” he sighed. “You can take me.” He paused, sending more of that ice-cold wariness through me. “To your sister’s wedding.”

My spine locked up.

My shoulders stiffened.

I even felt the satin blouse I had tucked into my camel slacks stretch with the sudden motion.

To my sister’s wedding.

I blinked, his words echoing inside my head.

Then, something unhitched inside of me. The absurdity of whatever this was—whatever perverse joke this man I knew not to trust was trying to pull off—made a snort bubble its way up my throat and reach my lips, leaving me quickly and loudly. As if it had been in a rush to get out.

A grunt came from behind me. “What’s so funny?” His voice dropped, turning colder. “I’m completely serious.”

I bit back another burst of laughter. I didn’t believe that. Not for a second. “The chances of him,” I told Rosie, “being actually serious are the same chances I have of having Chris Evans pop out of nowhere and confess his undying love for me.” I made a show of looking right and left. “Nonexistent. So, Rosie, you were saying something about … Mr. Frenkel, right?”

There was no Mr. Frenkel.

“Lina,” Rosie said with that fake, toothy smile I knew she wore when she didn’t want to be rude. “He looks like he’s serious,” she spoke through her freaky smile. Her gaze inspected the man standing behind me. “Yep. I think he might be serious.”

“Nope. He can’t be.” I shook my head, still refusing to turn around and acknowledge that there was a possibility my friend was right.

There couldn’t be. There was no way Aaron Blackford, colleague and well-established affliction of mine, would even attempt to offer something like that. No. Way.

An impatient sigh came from behind me. “This is getting repetitive, Catalina.” A long pause. Then, another noisy exhale left his lips, this one much longer. But I did not turn around. I held my ground. “Ignoring me won’t make me disappear. You know that.”

I did. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying,” I muttered under my breath.

Rosie leveled me with a look. Then, she peeked around me again, keeping that toothy grin in place. “Sorry about that, Aaron. We are not ignoring you.” Her grin strained. “We are … debating something.”

“We are ignoring him though. You don’t need to spare his feelings. He doesn’t have any.”

“Thanks, Rosie,” Aaron told my friend, some of the usual coldness leaving his voice. Not that he’d be nice to anybody. Nice wasn’t something Aaron did. I didn’t even think he was able to pull off friendly. But he had always been less … grim when it came to Rosie. A treatment that had never been for me. “Do you think you can tell Catalina to turn around? I’d appreciate talking to her face and not to the back of her head.” His tone dropped back to minus zero degrees. “That is, of course, if this is not one of her jokes that I never seem to understand, much less find funny.”

Heat rushed up my body, reaching my face.

“Sure,” Rosie complied. “I think … I think I can do that.” My friend’s gaze bounced from that point behind me to my face, her eyebrows raised. “Lina, so, erm, Aaron would like you to turn around if this is not one of those jokes that—”

“Thanks, Rosie. I got that,” I gritted out between my teeth. Feeling my cheeks burn, I refused to face him. That would mean letting him win whatever game he was playing. Plus, he had just called me unfunny. Him. “If you could, tell Aaron that I don’t think one can laugh at, or much less understand, jokes when one lacks a sense of humor, please. That would be great. Thanks.”

Rosie scratched the side of her head, looking pleadingly at me
. Don’t make me do this, she seemed to ask me with her eyes.

I widened mine at her, ignoring her plea and begging her to go along.

She released a breath and then looked around me one more time. “Aaron,” she said, her fake grin getting bigger, “Lina thinks that—”

“I heard her, Rosie. Thank you.”

I was so attuned to him—to this—that I noticed the slight change in his tone that signaled the switch to the voice he only used with me. The one that was just as dry and cold but that would now come with an extra layer of disdain and distance. The one that would soon lead to a scowl. I didn’t even need to turn and take a look at him to know that. It was somehow always there when it came to me and to this … thing between us.

“I’m pretty sure my words are reaching Catalina down there just fine, but if you could tell her that I have work to do and I cannot entertain this much longer, I would appreciate it.”

Stupidly large man.

My size was average. Average for a Spaniard, sure. But average nonetheless. I was five foot three—almost four, thank you very much.

Rosie’s green eyes were back on me. “So, Aaron has work, and he would appreciate—”

“If—” I stopped myself when I heard the word sounding high-pitched and squeaky. I cleared my throat and tried again. “If he is so busy, then please tell him to feel free to spare me. He can go back to his office and resume whatever workaholic activities he had shockingly paused to stick his nose in something that does not concern him.”

I watched my friend’s mouth open, but the man behind me spoke before a sound could come out of her lips, “So, you heard what I said. My offer. Good.” A pause. In which I cursed under my breath. “Then, what’s your answer?”

Rosie’s face filled with shock one more time. My gaze remained on her, and I could picture how the dark brown in my eyes was turning to red with my growing exasperation.

My answer? What the hell was he even trying to accomplish? Was this a new, inventive way of playing with my head? My sanity?

“I have no idea what he’s talking about. I heard nothing,” I lied. “You can tell him that too.”

Rosie tucked a curl behind her ear, her eyes jumping very briefly to Aaron and then returning to me. “I think he’s referring to the moment he offered to be your date to your sister’s wedding,” she explained with a soft voice. “You know, right after you told me that things had changed and that you now needed to find someone—or anyone, I think you said—to go to Spain with you and attend that wedding because, otherwise, you’d die a slow, painful death and—”

“I think I got it,” I rushed out, feeling my face burn again from the realization that Aaron had heard all of that. “Thanks, Rosie. You can stop with the recap.” Or I’d be dying that slow, painful death right about now.

“I think you used the word desperate,” Aaron chipped in.

My ears burned, probably flashing about five shades of radioactive red. “I did not,” I breathed out. “I did not use that word.”

“You … sort of did, sweetie,” my best friend—no, former best friend as of right now—confirmed.

Eyes narrowed, I mouthed, What the hell, traitor?

But both of them were right.

“Fine. So, I said that. Doesn’t mean I’m that desperate.”

“That’s what truly helpless people would say. But whatever makes you sleep better at night, Catalina.”

Cursing under my breath for the umpteenth time that morning, I closed my eyes briefly. “This is none of your business, Blackford, but I’m not helpless, okay? And I sleep at night just fine. No, actually, I’ve never slept better.”

What was one more lie to the pile I was hoisting around, huh?

Contrary to what I had just denied, I was truly, helplessly desperate to find someone to be my date to that wedding. But that didn’t mean I’d—

Ironically, out of all the damn words Aaron Blackford had said to the back of my head that morning, that one word was what made me break my stance to pretend I remained unaffected.

That sure, sounding all condescending and bored and dismissive and just so Aaron.

My blood bubbled.

It was so impulsive, such a knee-jerk reaction to that four-letter word—which, uttered by anybody else, would have meant nothing—that I didn’t even realize my body was turning until it was too late.

Because of his unearthly height, I was welcomed by a broad chest covered in a pressed white button-down that made me itch to fist the fabric and wrinkle it with my hands because who pranced through life so sleek and spotless all the damn time? Aaron Blackford—that was who.

My gaze trailed up rounded shoulders and a strong neck, reaching the straight line of his jaw. His lips pressed flatly, just like I had known they would. My eyes traveled further up then, reaching his blue ones—blue that reminded me of the depths of the ocean, where everything was cold and deadly—and finding them on me.

One of his brows rose.

“Yes.” That head, topped with raven hair, gave one single nod, his gaze not leaving mine. “I don’t want to waste more time arguing about something you are too stubborn to admit, so yes. Sure.”

This infuriating blue-eyed man who probably spent more time ironing his clothes than interacting with other human beings was not going to make me lose my temper this early in the morning.

Fighting to keep my body under control, I inhaled a long, deep breath. I tucked a lock of chestnut hair behind my ear. “If this is such a waste of time, I genuinely don’t know what you are still doing here. Please don’t stay on my or Rosie’s account.”

A noncommittal noise left Miss Traitor’s mouth.

“I would have,” Aaron admitted in a level tone. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“That wasn’t a question,” I said, the words tasting sour in my tongue. “Whatever you said was not a question. But that’s not important because I don’t need you, thank you very much.”

“Sure,” he repeated, turning my exasperation one notch up. “Although I think you do.”

“You think wrong.”

That brow rose higher. “And yet it sounded like you really do need me.”

“Then, you must be experiencing serious hearing issues because, yet again, you heard wrong. I don’t need you, Aaron Blackford.” I swallowed, willing some of the dryness away. “I could write it down for you if you want. Send you an email, too, if that’d help at all.”

He seemed to think about it for a second, looking uninterested. But I knew better than to believe he’d let it go so easily. Which he proved as soon as he opened his mouth again. “Didn’t you say the wedding is in a month and you don’t have a date?”

My lips pressed in a tight line. “Maybe. I can’t recall exactly.”

I had said that. Word for word.

“Didn’t Rosie suggest that if you perhaps sat in the back and tried not to draw any attention to yourself, nobody would notice you were attending on your own?”

My friend’s head popped into my field of vision. “I did. I also suggested to wear a dull color and not the stunning red dress that—”

“Rosie,” I interrupted her. “Not really helping here.”

Aaron’s eyes didn’t waver when he resumed his walk down memory lane. “Didn’t you follow that by reminding Rosie that you were the motherfreaking—your word—maid of honor and therefore everybody and their mother—your words again—would notice you anyway?”

“She did,” I heard Miss Traitor confirm. My head whirled in her direction. “What?” She shrugged, signing her death sentence. “You did, honey.”

I needed new friends. ASAP.

“She did,” Aaron corroborated, drawing my gaze and attention back to him. “And did you not say that your ex-boyfriend is the best man and thinking of standing in the vicinity of him, alone and lame and pathetically single�
�those were your words again—made you want to tear off your own skin?”

I had. I had said that. But I hadn’t thought Aaron was listening; otherwise, I would have never admitted it out loud.

But he had been right there, apparently. He knew now. He had heard me openly admit that and had just thrown it at my face. And as much as I told myself I didn’t care—that I shouldn’t care—the pang of hurt was there all the same. It made me feel all the more alone, lame, and pathetic.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I averted my eyes, letting them rest somewhere close to his Adam’s apple. I didn’t want to see whatever was in his face. Mockery. Pity. I didn’t care. I could spare the knowledge of one more person thinking of me that way.

His throat was the one that worked then. I knew because it was the only part of him I allowed myself to look at.

“You are desperate.”

I exhaled, the air leaving my lips forcefully. One nod—that was all I gave him. And I didn’t even understand why I had done it. This wasn’t me. I usually fought back until I was the one who drew blood first. Because that was what we did. We didn’t spare each other’s feelings. This wasn’t new.

“Then, take me. I will be your date to the wedding, Catalina.”

My gaze drew up very slowly, a strange mix of wariness and embarrassment washing over me. Him witnessing all this was bad enough, but him somehow trying to use it to his advantage? To get the better of me?

Unless he wasn’t. Unless perhaps there was an explanation, a reason, as to why he was doing this. Offering himself to be my date.

Studying his face, I pondered all these options and possible motivations, not coming to any kind of reasonable conclusion. Not finding any possible answer that would help me understand why or what he was trying to accomplish.

The spanish love deception

Visit my website at www.authorelenaarmas.com

Cover Design: Ella Maise and Elena Armas

Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

About the Author

To those chasing dreams,

never give up on them.

We are not quitters, you hear me?

“I’ll be your date to the wedding.”

Words I had never—not even in my wildest dreams, and trust me, I had a vivid imagination—conceived of hearing from that deep and rich tone reached my ears.

Looking down at my coffee, I squinted my eyes, trying to search for any signs of noxious substances floating around. That would at least explain what was happening. But nope.

Nothing. Just what was left of my Americano.

“I’ll do it if you need someone that badly,” the deep voice came again.

Eyes growing wide, I lifted my head. I opened my mouth and then snapped it closed again.

“Rosie …” I trailed off, the word leaving me in a whisper. “Is he really there? Can you see him? Or did someone spike my coffee without me noticing?”

“Should I repeat that a third time?” His question sent a new wave of disbelief rushing down my body, freezing the blood in my veins.

He wouldn’t. Not because he couldn’t, but because what he was saying did not make any freaking sense. Not in our world. One where we—

“All right, fine,” he sighed. “You can take me.” He paused, sending more of that ice-cold wariness through me. “To your sister’s wedding.”

My spine locked up.

My shoulders stiffened.

I even felt the satin blouse I had tucked into my camel slacks stretch with the sudden motion.

To my sister’s wedding.

I blinked, his words echoing inside my head.

A grunt came from behind me. “What’s so funny?” His voice dropped, turning colder. “I’m completely serious.”

There was no Mr. Frenkel.

“Nope. He can’t be.” I shook my head, still refusing to turn around and acknowledge that there was a possibility my friend was right.

There couldn’t be. There was no way Aaron Blackford, colleague and well-established affliction of mine, would even attempt to offer something like that. No. Way.

I did. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying,” I muttered under my breath.

“We are ignoring him though. You don’t need to spare his feelings. He doesn’t have any.”

Heat rushed up my body, reaching my face.

Rosie scratched the side of her head, looking pleadingly at me
. Don’t make me do this, she seemed to ask me with her eyes.

I widened mine at her, ignoring her plea and begging her to go along.

She released a breath and then looked around me one more time. “Aaron,” she said, her fake grin getting bigger, “Lina thinks that—”

“I heard her, Rosie. Thank you.”

“I’m pretty sure my words are reaching Catalina down there just fine, but if you could tell her that I have work to do and I cannot entertain this much longer, I would appreciate it.”

Stupidly large man.

My size was average. Average for a Spaniard, sure. But average nonetheless. I was five foot three—almost four, thank you very much.

Rosie’s green eyes were back on me. “So, Aaron has work, and he would appreciate—”

Rosie’s face filled with shock one more time. My gaze remained on her, and I could picture how the dark brown in my eyes was turning to red with my growing exasperation.

My answer? What the hell was he even trying to accomplish? Was this a new, inventive way of playing with my head? My sanity?

“I have no idea what he’s talking about. I heard nothing,” I lied. “You can tell him that too.”

“I think you used the word desperate,” Aaron chipped in.

My ears burned, probably flashing about five shades of radioactive red. “I did not,” I breathed out. “I did not use that word.”

“You … sort of did, sweetie,” my best friend—no, former best friend as of right now—confirmed.

Eyes narrowed, I mouthed, What the hell, traitor?

But both of them were right.

“Fine. So, I said that. Doesn’t mean I’m that desperate.”

“That’s what truly helpless people would say. But whatever makes you sleep better at night, Catalina.”

What was one more lie to the pile I was hoisting around, huh?

Contrary to what I had just denied, I was truly, helplessly desperate to find someone to be my date to that wedding. But that didn’t mean I’d—

Ironically, out of all the damn words Aaron Blackford had said to the back of my head that morning, that one word was what made me break my stance to pretend I remained unaffected.

That sure, sounding all condescending and bored and dismissive and just so Aaron.

My blood bubbled.

One of his brows rose.

This infuriating blue-eyed man who probably spent more time ironing his clothes than interacting with other human beings was not going to make me lose my temper this early in the morning.

A noncommittal noise left Miss Traitor’s mouth.

“I would have,” Aaron admitted in a level tone. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“That wasn’t a question,” I said, the words tasting sour in my tongue. “Whatever you said was not a question. But that’s not important because I don’t need you, thank you very much.”

“Sure,” he repeated, turning my exasperation one notch up. “Although I think you do.”

“You think wrong.”

That brow rose higher. “And yet it sounded like you really do need me.”

My lips pressed in a tight line. “Maybe. I can’t recall exactly.”

I had said that. Word for word.

“Didn’t Rosie suggest that if you perhaps sat in the back and tried not to draw any attention to yourself, nobody would notice you were attending on your own?”

My friend’s head popped into my field of vision. “I did. I also suggested to wear a dull color and not the stunning red dress that—”

“Rosie,” I interrupted her. “Not really helping here.”

“She did,” I heard Miss Traitor confirm. My head whirled in her direction. “What?” She shrugged, signing her death sentence. “You did, honey.”

I needed new friends. ASAP.

I had. I had said that. But I hadn’t thought Aaron was listening; otherwise, I would have never admitted it out loud.

His throat was the one that worked then. I knew because it was the only part of him I allowed myself to look at.

“You are desperate.”

“Then, take me. I will be your date to the wedding, Catalina.”

Unless he wasn’t. Unless perhaps there was an explanation, a reason, as to why he was doing this. Offering himself to be my date.

The Spanish Love Deception

Елена Армас

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

Four weeks wasn’t a lot of time to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic–from NYC and…

Лучшая рецензия на книгу

30 июня 2022 г. 00:45

Не думала что когда-нибудь скажу подобное, но в книге очень затянуты некоторые диалоги. А я их люблю. Без диалогов книга тянется для меня вечность. Так вот, здесь получилось наоборот. Диалоги с повторяющимися репликами одних и тех же героев могут нехило так вывести из себя. Мне нравится любовные романы в стиле Slow burn, но здесь не о самом романе речь, а об разговорах между героями.

«Моменты, меняющие жизнь, длились от нескольких секунд до десятилетий. Это было частью магии жизни.»

Проблема в том, что книга мне понравилась, несмотря на полную сюжетную идентичность роману Салли Торн «Мой любимый враг». Все звёзды сошлись. Приветственный подарок, поездка на свадьбу, противостояние, конкуренция и т.д. Мне даже захотелось пересмотреть экранизацию, что я и сделала.

Год издания: 2021

Мягкая обложка, 482 страницы.

Рецензии

30 июня 2022 г. 00:45

«Моменты, меняющие жизнь, длились от нескольких секунд до десятилетий. Это было частью магии жизни.»

27 апреля 2022 г. 17:39

5 Испанский роман bollito и osito 🙂

Признаюсь честно, давно я так взапой не наслаждалась книгой, как этой.

История чтения началась довольно странным образом. В нашей комнате в общежитии отключили свет и без интернета, который обычно меня отвлекал в такие вечера, как вчера, мне не оставалось ничего иного как попробовать читать 🙂 Я открыла свой iBooks и подумала, что хотя бы начну читать, ведь в последнее время у меня что-то совсем не срастается с чтением. НО, я увидела эту книгу, открыла её и понеслась. Я читала до 4 утра. Я плакала, я смеялась, я ревновала, я злилась, я отдыхала и просто наслаждалась.

Многие говорят, что книга слишком затянута. Скажу без приумалчиваний, что их слова не лишены смысла! Некоторые диалоги слишком длинные, ситуации описаны прям чрезмерно и некоторые эмоции возможно и взяты из ниоткуда. Но,…

The Spanish Love Deception

Елена Армас

27 апреля 2022 г. 17:39

5 Испанский роман bollito и osito 🙂

Признаюсь честно, давно я так взапой не наслаждалась книгой, как этой.

31 мая 2022 г. 13:49

4 «Да я бы лучше макаку в смокинге взяла с собой на свадьбу, чем пойти с тобой»

21 июня 2022 г. 13:21

5 Одна из самых классных историй, прочитанных мной за последнее время.

Отличный slowburn роман для всех поклонников Запаты.

Каталина соглашается взять Аарона с собой на свадьбу своей сестры, чтобы доказать всем вокруг, что она действительно счастлива после отвратительного расставания. Только вот она не уверена, что сможет притворяться. Лина боится, что её семья узнаёт о её обмане, и все станет только хуже.

Вся эта история оказывается сложнее и глубже, чем кажется изначально. Она затрагивает сразу несколько тем, но при этом все очень лаконично вписано в сюжет. Понятное дело, что кто-то обязательно влюбится. Но что если один из героев уже влюблён?

Несмотря на то, что отношения героев развиваются…

Рецензия на книгу «The Spanish Love Deception»

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

Like my abuela would say, que dios nos pille confesados.

Сплошное надувательство!

После достаточно тяжёлого июня, где я прочитала несколько крутых, но несколько выматывающих книг, июль я решила сделать разгрузочным. Эта книга попалась мне на глаза совершенно случайно и хотя я и не планировала читать её изначально, но поскольку я опять взялась за испанский язык, и, судя по отзывам, эта книга сейчас очень популярна в Тик Токе, решила всё-таки её прочесть.

Сюжет книги настолько избитый, что у него даже видны синяки под глазами — что-то среднее между книгой Салли Торн «Мой лучший враг» и фильмом «Жених напрокат» с Деброй Мессинг (фильм, кстати, отличный). Главная героиня книги — Каталина Мартин — испанка по национальности, после скандала в своём родном городке решает перебраться куда подальше.

«Куда подальше» здесь, конечно же, Нью-Йорк. Там она устраивается работать в крутую компанию, и в общем-то налаживает свою жизнь, но тут случается незадача — её сестра выходит замуж, и за месяц Каталине нужно найти презентабельного жениха, которого будет не очень стыдно предъявить родне, а главное — бывшему бойфренду и главному источнику всех её бед.

Главная героиня находится в таком отчаянном положении, что действительно готова заплатить парню из экскорт-услуг, чтобы он 3 дня разыграл в Испании роль её жениха перед всей роднёй. Но тут случается неожиданное — свои услуги подставного жениха предлагает коллега Каталины — красавчик-пижон Аарон Блэкфорд, с которым та, мягко говоря, никогда особо не была дружна. С чем связан этот красивый жест? Для чего Блэкфорд предлагать Каталине свою помощь, когда они даже на совещаниях едва выносят друг друга? Каталина впадает в многостраничный транс от такого неожиданного поворота событий, но исчерпав все свои варианты приходит к выводу, что ненавистный Блэкфорд действительно её единственный шанс. Ещё одним затруднением является то, что за пару дней до поездки Аарон получает повышение и фактически становится начальником Каталины, но находящейся в отчаянном положении героине приходится идти на заранее неловкую ситуацию, когда она едет в личную поездку со своим будущим боссом.

В столь исключительных обстоятельствах герои, конечно же, сближаются и гораздо лучше узнают друг друга. Находясь в другой романтичной стране, играя роль влюблённых, они, конечно же, постепенно открываются друг другу с другой стороны и оказывается, что каждый втайне испытывал симпатию к другому, и у каждого позади есть своя драма. Драма Каталины — что её бойфрендом был её преподаватель, отношения с которым испортили репутацию Каталины в глазах окружающих, у которых она моментально предстала женщиной «с пониженной социальной ответственностью».

Тем больнее было наступить Каталине ещё раз на те же грабли, когда на работе раскрылся её роман с новым боссом, и она опять предстала в не очень выгодном свете. Далее пересказывать роман не имеет смысла, потому что всё заканчивается типичным хэппи-эндом.

Почему такая низкая оценка. Во-первых. Если с сюжетом всё сразу было понятно, но мне не хватило даже атмосферы. Той самой испанской, с фламенко и паэльей — автор её практически никак не передал, как будто Испанию сам видел только на открытках. И все описания и колорит поэтому получились такие же плоские и неинтересные. Во-вторых. Книга слишком затянута, если удалить из нее минимум 1/4 воды она явно ничего не потеряла бы. В-третьих. Я не ханжа, но я не люблю типичные женские романы, которые пишутся по небезызвестному клише мамы Чендлера Бинга — известной авторшы дешёвых любовных романов — придумай какую-нибудь затейливую метафору для слова «член» (в данном случае «cock»), а дальше всё пойдёт само собой. 2/5

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Великолепная история,с большим удовольствием прочитала,невозможно оторваться.Завлекательный сюжет,живые герои каждый со своей судьбой,своим характером.Прекрасный литературный язык.Спасибо,автор.

Роковые яйца

Завтрак с орехами и медом (с отсутствием послевкусия) становится прошлым, здесь и сейчас, с нарастающим ощущением тревожности после крепкого кофе, что словно признак беспробудного пьянства. Слишком

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Интересно) не шедевр, но неплохо) можно и почитать)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

Всё хорошо. Спасибо за перевод! Только смущает тот факт что про Дымочку не было ничего не сказано, также как и про Темнохвоста. Да, злодей высосан из пальца. Но это претензии не к вам.

The Spanish Love Deception

Рейтинг: 0/5 (Всего голосов: 0)

Аннотация

Catalina Martín desperately needs a date to her sister’s wedding. Especially since her little white lie about her American boyfriend has spiralled out of control. Now everyone she knows—including her ex and his fiancée—will be there and eager to meet him.

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

Enter Aaron Blackford—her tall, handsome, condescending colleague—who surprisingly offers to step in. She’d rather refuse; never has there been a more aggravating, blood-boiling, and insufferable man.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

The spanish love deception

Visit my website at www.authorelenaarmas.com

Cover Design: Ella Maise and Elena Armas

Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

About the Author

To those chasing dreams,

never give up on them.

We are not quitters, you hear me?

“I’ll be your date to the wedding.”

Words I had never—not even in my wildest dreams, and trust me, I had a vivid imagination—conceived of hearing from that deep and rich tone reached my ears.

Looking down at my coffee, I squinted my eyes, trying to search for any signs of noxious substances floating around. That would at least explain what was happening. But nope.

Nothing. Just what was left of my Americano.

“I’ll do it if you need someone that badly,” the deep voice came again.

Eyes growing wide, I lifted my head. I opened my mouth and then snapped it closed again.

“Rosie …” I trailed off, the word leaving me in a whisper. “Is he really there? Can you see him? Or did someone spike my coffee without me noticing?”

“Should I repeat that a third time?” His question sent a new wave of disbelief rushing down my body, freezing the blood in my veins.

He wouldn’t. Not because he couldn’t, but because what he was saying did not make any freaking sense. Not in our world. One where we—

“All right, fine,” he sighed. “You can take me.” He paused, sending more of that ice-cold wariness through me. “To your sister’s wedding.”

My spine locked up.

My shoulders stiffened.

I even felt the satin blouse I had tucked into my camel slacks stretch with the sudden motion.

To my sister’s wedding.

I blinked, his words echoing inside my head.

A grunt came from behind me. “What’s so funny?” His voice dropped, turning colder. “I’m completely serious.”

There was no Mr. Frenkel.

“Nope. He can’t be.” I shook my head, still refusing to turn around and acknowledge that there was a possibility my friend was right.

There couldn’t be. There was no way Aaron Blackford, colleague and well-established affliction of mine, would even attempt to offer something like that. No. Way.

I did. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying,” I muttered under my breath.

“We are ignoring him though. You don’t need to spare his feelings. He doesn’t have any.”

Heat rushed up my body, reaching my face.

Rosie scratched the side of her head, looking pleadingly at me
. Don’t make me do this, she seemed to ask me with her eyes.

I widened mine at her, ignoring her plea and begging her to go along.

She released a breath and then looked around me one more time. “Aaron,” she said, her fake grin getting bigger, “Lina thinks that—”

“I heard her, Rosie. Thank you.”

“I’m pretty sure my words are reaching Catalina down there just fine, but if you could tell her that I have work to do and I cannot entertain this much longer, I would appreciate it.”

Stupidly large man.

My size was average. Average for a Spaniard, sure. But average nonetheless. I was five foot three—almost four, thank you very much.

Rosie’s green eyes were back on me. “So, Aaron has work, and he would appreciate—”

Rosie’s face filled with shock one more time. My gaze remained on her, and I could picture how the dark brown in my eyes was turning to red with my growing exasperation.

My answer? What the hell was he even trying to accomplish? Was this a new, inventive way of playing with my head? My sanity?

“I have no idea what he’s talking about. I heard nothing,” I lied. “You can tell him that too.”

“I think you used the word desperate,” Aaron chipped in.

My ears burned, probably flashing about five shades of radioactive red. “I did not,” I breathed out. “I did not use that word.”

“You … sort of did, sweetie,” my best friend—no, former best friend as of right now—confirmed.

Eyes narrowed, I mouthed, What the hell, traitor?

But both of them were right.

“Fine. So, I said that. Doesn’t mean I’m that desperate.”

“That’s what truly helpless people would say. But whatever makes you sleep better at night, Catalina.”

What was one more lie to the pile I was hoisting around, huh?

Contrary to what I had just denied, I was truly, helplessly desperate to find someone to be my date to that wedding. But that didn’t mean I’d—

Ironically, out of all the damn words Aaron Blackford had said to the back of my head that morning, that one word was what made me break my stance to pretend I remained unaffected.

That sure, sounding all condescending and bored and dismissive and just so Aaron.

My blood bubbled.

One of his brows rose.

This infuriating blue-eyed man who probably spent more time ironing his clothes than interacting with other human beings was not going to make me lose my temper this early in the morning.

A noncommittal noise left Miss Traitor’s mouth.

“I would have,” Aaron admitted in a level tone. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“That wasn’t a question,” I said, the words tasting sour in my tongue. “Whatever you said was not a question. But that’s not important because I don’t need you, thank you very much.”

“Sure,” he repeated, turning my exasperation one notch up. “Although I think you do.”

“You think wrong.”

That brow rose higher. “And yet it sounded like you really do need me.”

My lips pressed in a tight line. “Maybe. I can’t recall exactly.”

I had said that. Word for word.

“Didn’t Rosie suggest that if you perhaps sat in the back and tried not to draw any attention to yourself, nobody would notice you were attending on your own?”

My friend’s head popped into my field of vision. “I did. I also suggested to wear a dull color and not the stunning red dress that—”

“Rosie,” I interrupted her. “Not really helping here.”

“She did,” I heard Miss Traitor confirm. My head whirled in her direction. “What?” She shrugged, signing her death sentence. “You did, honey.”

I needed new friends. ASAP.

I had. I had said that. But I hadn’t thought Aaron was listening; otherwise, I would have never admitted it out loud.

His throat was the one that worked then. I knew because it was the only part of him I allowed myself to look at.

“You are desperate.”

“Then, take me. I will be your date to the wedding, Catalina.”

Unless he wasn’t. Unless perhaps there was an explanation, a reason, as to why he was doing this. Offering himself to be my date.

The Spanish Love Deception

Catalina Martín, finally, not single. Her family is happy to announce that she will bring her American boyfriend to her sister’s wedding. Everyone is invited to come and witness the most magical event of the year. That would certainly be tomorrow’s headline in the local newspaper of the small Spanish town I came from. Or the epitaph on my tombstone, seeing the turn my life had taken in the span of a phone call. Four weeks wasn’t a lot of time to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic-from NYC and all the way to Spain-for a wedding. Let alone, someone eager to play along my charade. But that didn’t mean I was desperate enough to bring the 6’4 blue eyed pain in my ass standing before me.

The Spanish Love Deception is an enemies-to-lovers, fake-dating, SLOW-BURN romance. Perfect for those looking for a steamy slow-burn with the sweetest Happily Ever After.

The Spanish Love Deception

The Spanish Love Deception is an enemies-to-lovers, fake-dating, SLOW-BURN romance. Perfect for those looking for a steamy slow-burn with the sweetest Happily Ever After.

The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

Like my abuela would say, que dios nos pille confesados.

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Роковые яйца

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Интересно) не шедевр, но неплохо) можно и почитать)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

The Spanish Love Deception

Рейтинг: 0/5 (Всего голосов: 0)

Аннотация

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

BCDF Pictures Developing ‘The Spanish Love Deception’ Film; ‘The Hating Game’s Peter Hutchings Tapped To Adapt Elena Armas Bestseller

Matt Grobar

‘RAW10′: McFarlane Films, wiip & Rooster Teeth Developing Adult Animated Series From Dan Dominguez Based On McFarlane Toys’ Action Figures

The Spanish Love Deception has been published in over 25 languages. The book won the Goodreads Choice Award for Debut Novel of the Year, and has become a phenomenon on TikTok, boasting a hashtag with over 100M views. It has also been named a “Must-Read” by Cosmopolitan, Publisher’s Weekly, Bustle, Elle, Paste, Glamour, Business Insider, Buzzfeed, and USA Today. Its sequel, The American Roommate Experiment, will follow in September. Claude Dal Farra and Brian Keady will produce the Spanish Love Deception film for BCDF Pictures.

“I am thrilled to have BCDF Pictures working on the adaptation of THE SPANISH LOVE DECEPTION and I have no doubt they will do an amazing job bringing Aaron and Catalina to life,” said Armas. “Believe me when I say that I am obsessed with the script and Peter Hutchings’s vision of these characters and Spanish setting I keep so close to my heart. THE SPANISH LOVE DECEPTION readers are not ready for the Martín family!”

Hutchings’ credits on the directing side include the upcoming Which Brings Me to You, as well as the features The Hating Game, Then Came You, The Outcasts and Rhymes with Banana. He also previously penned the films Can You Keep a Secret? and The Last Keepers, exec producing the latter.

Past titles from BCDF include Hutchings’ The Hating Game and Then Came You, Leslye Headland’s Bachelorette, Josh Radnor’s Liberal Arts and Vera Farmiga’s Higher Ground. This year, the company is also producing titles including the female trucker pic Big Rig, starring Vanessa Hudgens; The Ploughmen, directed by Ed Harris; Which Brings Me to You, starring Lucy Hale; 2022 SXSW title To Leslie starring Andrea Riseborough and Allison Janney; an adaptation of Gabrielle Zevin’s International Bestseller The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, starring Kunal Nayyar, Christina Hendricks and Hale; and an adaptation of the bestselling supernatural romance series Hush, Hush, which has been greenlit as a feature franchise at Paramount+.

Armas is represented by APA and the Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency; Hutchings by Lit Entertainment.

The spanish love deception

Продолжаю делать перерывы между серьёзными книжками, отвлекаясь на старый добрый чик лит. И конкретно эта книжка помимо того, что у неё довольно высокий рейтинг на сайте Goodreads, привлекла меня ещё и тем, что действие в ней, как обещала аннотация, будет происходить летом в Испании. Мне этого было достаточно, так как сразу вспомнила, как когда-то провела отпуск в этой замечательной и живописной стране, и очень уж захотелось туда вернуться, пусть даже хотя бы посредством литературы.

Много лет назад у Каталины и её бывшего был очень болезненный разрыв отношений, после которого девушка так и не оправилась. Дома в Испании из-за этого все на неё смотрят с жалостью, особенно потому что Каталина с того времени так ни с кем и не встречалась.

Ещё к недочётам книги добавлю её излишнюю затянутость в некоторых моментах, особенно в начале. Некоторые диалоги между Каталиной и Аароном кажутся какими-то неестественными, особенно в период, когда они враждовали. Автор далеко не сразу объясняет, в чём, собственно, причина этой вражды, поэтому долгое время кажется, что Каталина и Аарон враждуют просто потому, что так надо автору для сюжета.

Начало у книги не самое удачное, я чуть её не бросила после пары-тройки глав. Просто с первых страниц наблюдать за перебранкой персонажей, которых ты ещё не знаешь и за которых не переживаешь, не так уж захватывающе. Но потом книга по-настоящему затянула, я зачитывалась ею до поздней ночи. В целом, неплохая история о любви, где персонажи проходят путь от врагов, до дружественных отношений, которые в свою очередь перерастают в нечто большее. Поклонникам жанра читать рекомендую, а остальным только в соответствующем настроении.

Счет-фактура Я выставляю счет-фактуру НДС

Вес с индивидуальной упаковкой 0.35 кг

Год выпуска Две тысячи двадцать один

Название The Spanish Love Deception: TikTok made me buy it! (2021)

Издательство Simon & Schuster Ltd

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THE SPANISH LOVE DECEPTION

Autor: By (author) Elena Armas

Format Paperback | 480 pages

Dimensions 130 x 198 x 29mm | 338g

Publication date 28 Oct 2021

Publisher Саймон English

ОПИСАНИЕ:

THE SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER

WINNER OF THE GOODREADS CHOICE AWARDS DEBUT NOVEL OF THE YEAR.

A BOOKTOK SENSATION.

The Spanish Love Deception is anenemies-to-lovers, fake-dating romance. Perfect for those looking for a steamy slow-burn with the promise of a sweet happy-ever-after.

«Everything you could want in a romance is right here.»

Helen Hoang, author of The Kiss Quotient

Мы осуществляем сделку в течение 22-23 рабочих дня с момента внесения депозита на наш счет или со дня, когда вы сообщите нам о личном приеме *****

Spanish love deception, Elena Armas

Автор: Christie Agatha
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Издательство: HarperCollins UK
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Описание: Agatha Christie`s most ingenious murder mystery, reissued with a striking new cover designed to appeal to the latest generation of Agatha Christie fans and book lovers.

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In the aftermath of her 2008 presidential run, Hillary Rodham Clinton expected to return to the United States Senate. To her surprise, newly elected President Barack Obama asked her to serve in his administration as Secretary of State. «Hard Choices is a richly detailed and compelling chronicle of Clinton’s role in the foreign initiatives and crises that defined the first term of the Obama administration. it teems with small, entertaining details about her interactions with foreign leaders (Los Angeles Times).

Secretary Clinton and President Obama had to decide how to repair fractured alliances, wind down two wars, and address a global financial crisis. Along the way, they grappled with tough dilemmas, especially the decision to send Americans into harm’s way, from Afghanistan to Libya to the hunt for Osama bin Laden. By the end of her tenure, Secretary Clinton had gained a truly global perspective on the major trends reshaping today’s landscape.

In Hard Choices, «a rich and lively narrative» (Entertainment Weekly), Hillary Clinton offers her views on what it will take for the United States to compete and thrive. This «memoir is serious, sober, and substantive» (The New York Times Book Review).

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Автор: To Be Announced, To Be Announced
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Название: Untitled 2
ISBN: 1442369213 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781442369214
Издательство: Simon & Schuster
Цена: 2419 р.
Наличие на складе: Нет в наличии.

Описание: America’s #1 radio talk-show host and multi-million-copy #1 New York Times bestselling author presents the second book in a series for young readers with a history teacher who travels back in time to have adventures with exceptional Americans.

Rush Revere rides again Saddle up with Rush Limbaugh’s really good pal for a new time-travel adventure.

«Whoa there, young historians Before we go rush, rush, rushing off anywhere, I’d like a moment. I’m Liberty, Rush Revere’s loquacious equine companion—his trusty talking horse Always at the ready to leap from the twenty-first century into America’s past, that’s me. When he says ‘Let’s go ‘ I’m so there. I’m jazzed, I’m psyched, I’m—«

«Ah, excuse me, Liberty?»

«Usually you say ‘oh no, not again ‘ and ‘while we’re in colonial Boston, can I try the baked beans?'»

«Okay, fine—you do the talking. I’ll just be over here, if you need me. «

Well, he’s sulking now, but I couldn’t be your tour guide across time without Liberty His name says it all: the freedom we celebrate every July Fourth with fireworks and hot dogs (and maybe some of those baked beans). But how did America get free? How did thirteen newborn colonies tell the British king where he could stick his unfair taxes?

Jump into the bustling streets of Boston in 1765, where talk of revolution is growing louder. I said LOUDER. You’ll have to SHOUT to be heard over the angry cries of «Down with the king » and «Repeal the Stamp Act » that fill the air. You’ll meet fierce supporters of liberty like Samuel Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and my idol, Paul Revere, as they fearlessly defy British rule. It’s an exciting, dangerous, turbulent, thrilling time to be an American. and exceptional young patriots like you won’t want to miss a minute. Let’s ride

Автор: Keeney Bradford P., To Be Announced, Keeney Hillar
Название: Seiki Jutsu: The Practice of Non-Subtle Energy Medicine
ISBN: 1620552345 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781620552346
Издательство: Неизвестно
Рейтинг:
Цена: 2424 р.
Наличие на складе: Нет в наличии.

Описание: A guide to the ancient Japanese art of working with concentrated life-force energy, seiki, for self-healing, revitalization, and creativity.

Автор: To Be Announced, Limbaugh Rush
Название: Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims: Time-Travel Adventures with Exceptional Americans
ISBN: 1442369183 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781442369184
Издательство: Simon & Schuster
Цена: 2419 р.
Наличие на складе: Нет в наличии.

Описание: America s #1 radio talk-show host and multi-million-copy #1 «New York Times» bestselling author presents a book for young readers with a history teacher who travels back in time to have adventures with exceptional Americans.
Nationally syndicated radio talk-show host Rush Limbaugh has long wanted to make American history come to life for the children of his listeners, so he created the character of a fearless middle-school history teacher named Rush Revere, who travels back in time and experiences American history as it happens, in adventures with exceptional Americans. In this book, he is transported back to the deck of the Mayflower.»

Автор: To Be Announced, Madow Michelle
Название: The Secret Diamond Sisters
ISBN: 0373211090 ISBN-13(EAN): 9780373211098
Издательство: Simon & Schuster
Цена: 1209 р.
Наличие на складе: Нет в наличии.

Описание: Savannah. Courtney. Peyton. The three sisters grew up not knowing their father and not quite catching a break. But it looks like their luck is about to change when they find out the secret identity of their long-lost dad—a billionaire Las Vegas hotel owner who wants them to come live in a gorgeous penthouse hotel suite. Suddenly the Strip’s most exclusive clubs are all-access, and with an unlimited credit card each, it should be easier than ever to fit right in. But in a town full of secrets and illusion, fitting in is nothing compared to finding out the truth about their past.

Автор: To Be Announced, Wright Tony, Gynn Graham
Название: Return to the Brain of Eden: Restoring the Connection Between Neurochemistry and Consciousness
ISBN: 1620552515 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781620552513
Издательство: Неизвестно
Рейтинг:
Цена: 1858 р.
Наличие на складе: Поставка под заказ.

Описание: An exploration of our fall from the pinnacle of human evolution 200,000 years ago and how we can begin our return.

Автор: Wizards RPG Team
Название: Dungeons & Dragons September 2020 Book (Announced at D&d Live June 18th)
ISBN: 078696698X ISBN-13(EAN): 9780786966981
Издательство: Random House (USA)
Цена: 4615 р.
Наличие на складе: Нет в наличии.

Описание: Feel the cold touch of death in this adventure for the world’s greatest roleplaying game.

Beneath the unyielding night sky, you stand before a towering glacier and recite an ancient rhyme, causing a crack to form in the great wall of ice. Beyond this yawning fissure, the Caves of Hunger await. And past this icy dungeon is a secret so old and terrifying that few dare speak of it. The mad wizards of the Arcane Brotherhood long to possess that which the god of winter’s wrath has so coldly preserved—as do you What fantastic secrets and treasures are entombed in the sunless heart of the glacier, and what will their discovery mean for the denizens of Icewind Dale? Can you save Ten-Towns from the Frostmaiden’s everlasting night?

Brave the frozen North of Faerun in this Dungeons & Dragons adventure for characters level 1-12.

Explore the frontier of Icewind Dale Maps and guides will aid you on your journey through a land of isolation, paranoia, and deadly cold.

Venture into the Ten Towns and other beloved D&D locations made famous by Drizzt Do’Urden and the Companions of the Hall.

Encounter the hazards of a frozen wilderness. This book provides DMs with rules for running D&D adventures in icy tundras and wintery climes.

Discover long-lost treasures, magic items, and long-forgotten spells in the icy depths of a truly unforgettable Dungeons & Dragons adventure.

Автор: Christie Agatha
Название: A Murder Is Announced: A Miss Marple Mystery
ISBN: 0062879804 ISBN-13(EAN): 9780062879806
Издательство: HarperCollins USA
Цена: 1935 р.
Наличие на складе: Нет в наличии.

The fourth Miss Marple mystery, now available as a Harper trade paperback.

The spanish love deception

Only the truth. The reality. We weren’t friends. We barely tolerated each other, Aaron Blackford and I. We were spiteful to each other, pointed out each other’s mistakes, criticized how differently we worked, thought, and lived. We condemned our differences. At some point in the past, I would have thrown darts at a poster of his face. And I was pretty sure he would have done the same because I wasn’t the only one driving along Hate Boulevard. It was a two-way road. Not only that, but it had actually been him, the one causing our fallout. I hadn’t started this feud between us. So, why? Why was he pretending to offer me help, and why would I humor him by even considering it?

“I might be desperate to find a date, but I’m not that desperate,” I repeated. “Just like I said.”

His sigh was tired. Impatient. Infuriating. “I’ll let you think about it. You know you have no other options.”

“Nothing to think about.” I cut my hand through the air between us. Then, I smiled my version of Rosie’s fake, toothy grin. “I’d take a chimpanzee dressed in a tuxedo before taking you.”

His eyebrows rose, amusement barely entering his eyes. “Now, come on; we both know you wouldn’t. While there are chimpanzees that would rise up to the occasion, it will be your ex standing there. Your family. You said you need to make an impression, and I will accomplish exactly that.” He tilted his head. “I’m your best option.”

I snorted, clapping my hands once. Smug blue-eyed pain in my ass. “You are my best nothing, Blackford. And I have plenty of other options,” I countered, shrugging a shoulder. “I’ll find someone on Tinder. Maybe put out an ad in the New York Times. I can find someone.”

“In only a few weeks? Highly unlikely.”

“Rosie has friends. I’ll take one of them.”

That had been my plan all along. It was the reason why I had grabbed Rosie so early in the day. Rookie mistake on my part, I realized. I should have waited to get off work and gotten Rosie to a safe, Aaron-free place to talk. But after yesterday’s call with Mamá … yeah. Things had changed. My situation had definitely changed. I needed someone, and I couldn’t stress enough that anyone would do. Anyone who wasn’t Aaron, of course. Rosie had been born and raised in the city. There had to be someone she knew.

“Right, Rosie? One of your friends must be available.”

My friend’s head popped in again. “Maybe Marty? He loves weddings.”

I shot a quick glance at her. “Wasn’t Marty the one who got drunk at your cousin’s wedding, stole the mic from the band, and sang ‘My Heart Will Go On’ until your brother had to drag him off the stage?”

“That would be him.” She winced.

“Yeah, no.” I couldn’t have that at my sister’s wedding. She’d rip his heart out of his chest and serve it as dessert. “What about Ryan?”

A sigh left my lips. “Not surprised. Ryan is a total catch.”

“I know. That’s why I tried so many times to get you two together, but you—”

I cleared my throat loudly, interrupting her. “We aren’t discussing why I am single.” I quickly glanced back at Aaron. His eyes were on me, narrowed. “How about … Terry?”

“Moved to Chicago.”

“Dammit.” I shook my head, closing my eyes for an instant. This was useless. “Then, I’ll hire an actor. Pay him to act as my date.”

“That’s probably expensive,” Aaron said flatly. “And actors aren’t exactly lying around, waiting for single people to hire and parade them as their plus-ones.”

I pinned him with an exasperated look. “I’ll get a professional escort.”

His lips pressed in that tight, almost-hermetic way they did when he was extremely irritated. “You’d take a male prostitute to your sister’s wedding before taking me?”

“I said, an escort, Blackford. Por Dios,” I muttered, watching his eyebrows bunch and turn into the scowl. “I’m not looking for that kind of service. I just need a companion. That’s all they do. They escort you to events.”

“That’s not what they do, Catalina.” His voice was deep and icy. Covering me in his frosty judgment.

“Haven’t you watched any romantic comedies ever?” I watched the scowl deepen. “Not even The Wedding Date?”

No answer, just more of that arctic staring.

“Do you even watch movies? Or do you just … work?”

There was a possibility that he didn’t even own a television. His expression didn’t change.

God, I don’t have time for this. For him.

“You know what? Not important. I don’t care.” I threw my hands up and then clasped them together. “Thank you for … this. Whatever it was. Great input. But I don’t need you.”

I blinked at him. “I think you are annoying.”

“Catalina,” he started, making my irritation grow with the way he uttered my name. “You are delusional if you think you can find someone in such a short amount of time.”

Once more, Aaron Blackford wasn’t wrong.

I probably was a little delusional. And he didn’t even know about the lie. My lie. Not that he’d ever do. But that didn’t change the facts. I needed someone, anyone, but not him, not Aaron, to fly to Spain with me for Isabel’s wedding. Because (A) I was the bride’s sister and maid of honor. (B) My ex, Daniel, was the groom’s brother and best man. And as of yesterday, I had learned that he was happily engaged. Something that my family had been hiding from me. (C) If you didn’t count the few and pretty unsuccessful dates I had gone on, I had been technically single for roughly six years. Ever since I had left Spain and moved to the States, which had happened shortly after my one and only relationship exploded in my face. Something that every single attendee—because there were no secrets in families like mine and much less in small towns like the one I had come from—knew about and pitied me for. And (D) there was my lie.

The one I had sort of fed my mother and consequently the whole Martín clan because privacy and boundaries did not exist when it came to us. Hell, by now, my lie was probably on the Announcements page of the local newspaper.

Catalina Martín, finally, not single. Her family is happy to announce that she will bring her American boyfriend to the wedding. Everyone is invited to come and witness the most magical event of the decade.

Because that was what I had done. Right after the news of Daniel’s engagement had slipped past my mother’s lips and reached my ears through the speaker of my phone, I had said that I’d be bringing someone too. No, not just someone. I’d said—lied, deceived, falsely announced—that I’d be bringing my boyfriend.

Who technically did not exist.

Okay, fine, or ever. Because Aaron was right. Finding a date in such a short amount of time was perhaps a little optimistic. Believing I’d find someone to pretend to be my made-up boyfriend was probably delusional. But accepting that Aaron was my only choice and taking him up on his offer? That was straight-up insanity.

“I see it’s finally seeping in.” Aaron’s words brought me back to the present, and I found his blue eyes aimed at me. “I’ll let you come to terms with it on your own. Just let me know when you do.”

My lips pursed. And when I felt my cheeks burn again—because how lame was I for him, Aaron Blackford, who had never even liked me a tiny little bit, to pity me enough to offer himself to be my date?—I crossed my arms over my chest and averted my eyes from those two icy and ruthless spots.

“Oh, and, Catalina?”

“Yeah?” The word left my lips weakly. Ugh, pathetic.

“Try not to be late to our ten o’clock meeting. It’s not cute anymore.”

My gaze shot to him, a huff stuck in my throat.

I swore right then and there that one day, I’d find a ladder high enough, climb it, and chuck something really hard at his infuriating face.

One year and eight months. That was how long I had
endured him. I had been counting, biding my time.

Then, with nothing more than a nod, he turned around, and I watched him walk away. Dismissed until further notice.

“Okay, that was …” Rosie’s voice trailed off, not ending the statement.

“Maddening? Insulting? Bizarre?” I offered, bringing my hands to my face.

“Unexpected,” she countered. “And interesting.”

Looking at her between my fingers, I watched the corners of her lips tug up.

“Your friendship has been revoked, Rosalyn Graham.”

She chuckled. “You know you don’t mean that.”

I didn’t; she’d never get rid of me.

“So …” Rosie linked her arm with mine and ushered me down the hallway. “What are you going to do?”

A shaky exhale left my mouth, taking all my energy with it. “I … I don’t have the slightest idea.”

But I knew something for sure: I was not taking Aaron Blackford up on his offer. He wasn’t my only option, and he surely wasn’t my best one either. Hell, he wasn’t my anything. Especially not my date to my sister’s wedding.

I wasn’t late to our meeting.

Ever since that day a year and eight months ago, I was never late.

One time. I had been late one single time in Aaron’s presence, and yet he kept flaunting that fact every chance he got.

He never chalked it up to me being Spanish or a woman. Both unjustified stereotypes when it came to being notoriously unpunctual.

Aaron didn’t do nonsense. He pointed out facts; he stated verifiable truths. He had been disciplined to do that, just like every other engineer in the consulting company where we worked, me included. And technically, I had been late. That one time all those months ago. It was true that I had missed the first fifteen minutes of an important presentation. It was also true that it had been Aaron leading it—during his first week in InTech—and it was again true that I had made a miserably loud entrance that might have involved accidentally knocking over a coffee pitcher.

On Aaron’s stack of dossiers for the presentation.

Fine, partly on his pants too.

Not the best way to make an impression on a new colleague, but tough shit. Things like that happened all the time. Tiny, unintentional, unexpected accidents like those were common. People got over them and went on with their lives.

Instead, week after week and month after month ever since that day, he had barked stuff like, “Try not to be late to our ten o’clock meeting. It’s not cute anymore,” at me.

Instead, every single time he entered a conference room and found me sitting there, painfully early, he checked the watch on his wrist and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Instead, he moved coffee pitchers out of my reach with a warning tilt of his head in my direction.

That was what Aaron Blackford did instead of letting go of that incident.

“Good morning, Lina.” Héctor’s kind voice reached me from the door.

I could tell he was smiling before I took in his face, just like he always did. “Buenos días, Héctor,” I told him in the mother tongue we shared.

The man that I considered like an uncle after he welcomed me into the close circle of his family placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Doing good, mija?”

“Can’t complain.” I returned the smile.

“You coming over to the next barbecue? It’s next month, and Lourdes keeps telling me to remind you. She’s preparing ceviche this time, and you are the only one that will eat it.” He laughed.

It was true; no one in the Díaz family was a big fan of the fish-based Mexican dish. Which, to this day, I still couldn’t understand.

“Stop asking dumb questions, old man.” I waved my hand in the air with a chuckle. “Of course I’ll be there.”

Héctor was taking his usual place to my right when our three remaining colleagues in attendance poured into the room, mumbling their good mornings.

Lifting my gaze off Héctor’s easy smile, my eyes tracked down the men walking around the table to assemble into our ten o’clock formation.

Across from me appeared Aaron, eyebrows raised and gaze quickly meeting mine. I watched his lips tip down as he took a chair out.

Rolling my eyes, I moved onto Gerald, whose bald head glinted under the fluorescent light as he folded his rather chubby frame into the chair. Last but not least, there was Kabir, who had been recently promoted to the position everyone in this room held—team leader of the Solutions Division of the company. Which pretty much encompassed all disciplines but civil engineering. Which was a beast on its own.

“Good morning, everyone,” Kabir started with the enthusiasm only someone who had been on the job for a month would have. “This week, it’s my turn to lead and protocol the meeting, so if you could, please say present when I call your name.”

An exasperated grunt I was extremely familiar with filled the room. Glancing at the blue-eyed man across the table, I found the irritated face that went with the sound.

“Of course, Kabir,” I said with a smile even though I agreed with the scowling man. “Please call away.”

Ocean eyes pinned me with an icy look.

Meeting his stare, I heard Kabir go through each of our names, obtaining confirmation from both Héctor and Gerald, an unnecessarily cheery present from me, and another grunt from Mr. Grumps.

“All right, thanks,” Kabir said. “Next point in the agenda is, project status updates. Who would like to start?”

He was met with silence.

InTech provided engineering services for any entity that did not have the ability or man power to design or engineer plans for their own projects. Sometimes, they outsourced a team of five or six people, and other times, only one person was needed. So, all five team leaders in our division were currently working and supervising several different projects for several different clients, and all projects never stopped moving forward. Eating away milestones and encountering all kinds of issues and drawbacks. We had conference calls with the clients and stakeholders on a daily basis. The status of each project changed so briskly and in such a complex manner that there was no way every other team leader could catch up in only a few minutes. That was why Kabir’s question had been met with silence. And why this meeting wasn’t completely necessary.

“Um …” Kabir shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Okay, I can start. Yeah, I’ll go first.” He shuffled through a folder he had brought with him. “This week, we are presenting to Telekoor the new budget we’ve been developing for them. As you know, it is a start-up that’s working on a cloud service to enhance mobile data on public transportation. Well, the resources available are rather limited and …”

I absently listened to my colleague while my gaze roamed around the meeting room. Héctor nodded his head, although I suspected he was paying as much attention as I was. Gerald, on the other hand, was openly checking his phone. Rude. So rude. But I didn’t expect anything else from him.

Then, there was him. Aaron Blackford, who I realized had been staring at me before my eyes met his.

His arm reached out in my direction, his gaze holding mine. I knew what he was about to do. I knew. The long fingers attached to that massive palm spread out as they met the object in front of me. The coffee pitcher. I narrowed my eyes, watching how his hand curled around the pitcher’s handle.

He dragged it all the way across the surface of the oak desk. Very slowly. Then, he nodded his head.

Infuriating blue-eyed grudge-holder.

I gave him a tight, closed-lip smile—because the other option was launching myself across the room and pouring all the contents of the goddamn pitcher on him. Again. But this time, intentionally.

Trying to distract myself from that thought, I averted my eyes and furiously scribbled a to-do list on my planner.

Ask Isa if the bouquet s
he ordered for Mamá was peonies or lilies.

Order either a peony or lily bouquet for Tía Carmen.

If we didn’t, she’d be giving me, Isa—my sister and bride—and Mamá the stink eye until the day she or any of us kicked the bucket.

Send Papá my flight details, so he knows when to pick me up from the airport.

Tell Isa to remind Papá that he has my flight details, so he picks me up from the airport.

I brought the pen to my lips, this awful feeling I was forgetting something important making me uneasy.

Chewing on my pen, I scrambled my mind for whatever it was I was missing. Then, a voice I was terribly—and unfortunately—doomed to never forget thundered in my head.

“You are delusional if you think you can find someone in such a short amount of time.”

My eyes bounced back to the man sitting across from me, meeting his gaze again. As if I had been caught doing something wrong—like thinking of him—I felt the heat in my cheeks and returned my attention to the list.

Find a boyfriend.

I scratched that.

Find a fake boyfriend. Doesn’t need to be a real one.

“… and that’s all I have to report.” Kabir’s words registered somewhere in the back of my head.

I continued working on my list.

Find a fake boyfriend. Doesn’t need to be a real one. And also, NOT HIM.

Surely, I had other options. Not the escort though. A quick Google search had confirmed that Aaron had been right. Again. Apparently, I had been lied to by Hollywood. New York seemed to be filled with men and women offering a wide range of varied and different kinds of services that were not limited to escorting.

I grimaced and then chewed harder on the pen. Not that I’d ever admit that to Aaron. I’d rather give up chocolate for a full year than admit to Aaron that he was right.

But I was desperate at this point. He had nailed that down too. I needed to find someone who would pretend to be in a serious, committed relationship with me in front of my whole family. And that didn’t only include the wedding day, but also the two days of celebratory events that preceded that. Which meant, I was screwed. I was—

The spanish love deception

For anyone witnessing my foolish attempts at reaching the bedroom, it would have been pretty obvious that I was about to face-plant on the floor. And they wouldn’t be wrong. It was a wonder I was able to move at all, considering my feet barely lifted off the ground with all the dragging they had been carrying out.

Ironically, and contrary to the story my body told, I didn’t think I had ever felt more awake than I did as I crossed the threshold of that door.

My head was working at full speed. Processing everything Aaron had told me about his past. I kept spinning and turning even the tiniest pieces of information until I was completely sure I had them pinned down securely so they wouldn’t flee my memory.

Never mind that my legs wobbled with every step I took and exhaustion throbbed through my body. Aaron’s confession—because it had felt like he was unveiling something he had kept guarded and locked away from sight—had created a little riot in my head.

And my chest. Definitely my chest too. The organ that resided there had constricted and squeezed, and I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t supposed to feel that way. Or to act on it. A part of me missed being drunk or tipsy enough not to care, but after all the water Aaron had insisted on me gulping down and the fact that I hadn’t touched a drink after we went back inside the infamous bar, I didn’t have the luxury of that excuse anymore. It was past five in the morning, and the effect of the alcohol had faded to a very low buzz that indicated tomorrow wasn’t going to be much fun.

I didn’t realize I had been standing in the middle of the bedroom, staring into empty space, until Aaron closed the door behind him. When I turned, my gaze immediately fell on the glass of water in his hand.

I watched him walk to the nightstand, where I had placed a few of my things, and set the glass there.

“That for me?” I knew the answer, but the small gesture turned something inside of me to mush. Just like every time he had watched after me tonight. It just … didn’t feel all that small anymore. “If you keep taking care of me this fiercely, it’s going to be really hard to go back to real life.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have phrased it that way, but after everything that had happened tonight, the careful grip I tried to maintain around Aaron seemed to be loosening.

Aaron nodded, his expression turning somewhat more serious. But he didn’t comment on what I had said. Instead, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt and then changed his mind and started fumbling with the wristband of his watch.

Feeling my legs wobble—for all the wrong reasons—I walked to the edge of the bed and sat on top of the simple and silky comforter. Stopping my body from melting into it right away, I exhaled tiredly, releasing some of the tension in my shoulders. But before I could completely relax, my spine stiffened with a realization.

We would be sharing this very same bed tonight.

That fact had somehow fled my mind until now. And its return did strange things to my belly. Things that were not strange in a funny way, but in a rather exciting way. Things that heated my skin.

Well, if I was feeling this way and we hadn’t even gotten into bed yet, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen when I found myself tucked under the same comforter as Aaron. His large body and my much smaller one sharing and crowding the modest space the mattress offered.

In an attempt to distract myself, I occupied my hands, taking the flats off my hurting feet. Once I was done with that, I rubbed my temples, telling myself to chill the heck out because this was okay. We were adults. About to share a bed. So?

“How bad is it?” Aaron asked from where he stood still at the other end of the bed.

I chuckled, but it came closer to the sound that someone who was choking would make. “Well”—I cleared my throat—“I feel like I was run over by a stampede of very angry and very heavy antelopes that were in a rush to get somewhere.”

Aaron appeared in my field of vision, coming to a stop in front of me. “Are you referencing Mufasa’s death?”

My fingers stopped working, hovering above my temples. “You like The Lion King?”

“Any other Disney movies?” I was tempting my luck here.

Aaron’s expression remained serious. “All of them.”

Shit. “Even Frozen? Tangled? The Princess Frog?” I asked, and he nodded.

“I love animated movies. They take my mind off things.” He dipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Disney, Pixar … I’m a big fan.”

This was too much. First, he’d opened up about his childhood earlier today, and now, this. I wanted to ask how and why, but there was a more pressing issue. “What’s your favorite?”

Please don’t say the one that will send my heart into cardiac arrest. Please don’t say it.

Fuck. He had said it. My heart struggled there for a moment. And that little spot that had been softening throughout the night got a little bigger.

“Oh.” The word breathily left my lips. It was all I managed.

My eyes closed, and my fingers resumed massaging my temples. Although maybe I should have been massaging my chest.

“That bad, huh?” He seemed to be gauging something when I looked back at him. My sobriety most likely.

“Don’t worry.” I waved my hand. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk by now. I promise I won’t puke all over you tonight.”

That didn’t earn me much of an answer, making me cringe over my choice of words.

Without further comment, Aaron disappeared in the tiny en suite bathroom, leaving me to deal with my awkwardness and thoughts.

Which mainly centered around Aaron—watching animation movies in the privacy of his home, particularly Up and perhaps finding a kindred spirit in Carl—and the damn bed again.

I stood up slowly.

My gaze followed the geometric pattern that crisscrossed the comforter, all the way to where the pillows lay. Our heads will be there, only a few inches apart. Everything I was feeling was slowly replaced by a weird mix of anticipation and something … new.

I needed to keep my cool. It was just a bed. We were two adults who could sleep next to each other. We were … friends now? No, I didn’t think we were. But we were not just colleagues either. Even forgetting about the fact that he’d soon be my boss, I didn’t think we only qualified as two people who worked together, argued on a regular basis, and struggled to tolerate each other for more than ten minutes. Our deal—this love deception game we were playing—had pushed us out of that meticulously labeled area we had been in. Shoved us right into a completely new and uncharted territory. And now, we were more than whatever we had been. We were …

We were about to share a bed. That was the only thing I knew for sure.

That, and the fact that I needed to stop overthinking it. What I needed to be was … unaffected. Yeah. If we were going to share a bed, I needed to stop behaving like it was a big deal. Even if it was. Because it motherfreaking was. Aaron had been showing me just how much with his soft but unwinding touches and these little pieces of himself that were just as provoking.

What had Rosie told me once?

“Set your goal free into the universe. Visualize it.”

That was exactly what I needed to do.

So, I visualized myself as impassive. Unconcerned. Unimpressed. I was a block of ice in the middle of a blizzard. I’d stand solidly. Immovable and cold and calm.

Walking to the closet with that on mind, I pulled out my pajamas, which consisted of shorts and an old T-shirt with Science Rocks in bold yellow letters. A part of me regretted not putting more thought into it now that the room arrangement situation ha
d changed. Another much smaller part thought that Aaron would appreciate the message in the shirt. That maybe he would give me one of those lopsided smirks that—

No. Those were not thoughts a block of ice would have.

Aaron walked out of the bathroom in silence, still dressed in his button-down, which now had two new undone buttons—which, I reminded myself, did not affect me—and headed directly to his side of the closet. Returning the silence, I slipped in the bathroom, so I could change and wash up.

Once done with that and clad in my jammies, I filled my lungs with a deep and hopefully energizing breath and returned to the bedroom.

I didn’t know what I had expected to find, but I was surely not prepared for the sight of Aaron in only a pair of sleeping pants. They hung low on his hips—so low that I could see the waistband of his underwear—and they were a dark shade of gray that complemented his skin.

My gaze trailed up, and there it was. That glorious chest that I had witnessed shining under the sun with droplets of sweat that—

I needed to stop gawking. Eating him with my eyes as if I had never seen a naked chest before. It couldn’t be healthy. Good for my mental health.

Turning away from him a little too briskly, I fumbled with my discarded clothes. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him slip on a short-sleeved shirt.

Good. That was definitely good. Cover those chiseled pecs and abs, stupidly flawless man who loves Up.

I opened the drawer of the narrow dresser and stared into it. Realizing I didn’t need anything from there, I closed it again. I threw open one of the wardrobe doors and realized the same damn thing. Cursing under my breath at my evident show of stupidity, I sensed Aaron move behind me.

My hands twisted the clothes I was holding into a ball.

A soft brush on the back of my arm derailed my inner pep talk, immediately lighting on fire my attempts to convince myself I was cool and unaffected.

“What’s wrong?” He skimmed those fingers up and down the back of my arm. “You are fidgeting.”

“Nothing is wrong. I’m okay,” I lied, and I heard my own voice shake. “I’m … cool.”

Aaron flickered his fingers one last time across my skin as I remained with my back to him. It felt like he was waiting for something, and when the silence that followed my comment stretched, he sighed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

His voice had sounded all wrong, so I finally turned to face him. He was walking away, so I reached for his arm, wrapping my slender fingers around his wrist. I could feel his pulse against my skin.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “I told you, you don’t have to. We will sleep on the bed. Both of us.” I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” And that wasn’t a complete lie. I knew that Aaron would gladly sleep with half his body hanging off that bed if I so much as looked slightly uncomfortable. Hell, he’d sleep on the floor if I let him. “I’m just …” I shook my head, not knowing how to finish that statement. Not daring to.

It’s not you in bed with me that I’m scared of, I wanted to tell him. It’s me and everything that’s going on inside my head and that stupid organ in the center of my chest—that’s what I’m scared of. It’s me and what I could possibly let myself do, what I’m terrified of. It’s this whole charade we have been executing that is messing with everything I thought I knew.

It hadn’t even been a day since we had landed in Spain, and I felt like everything between Aaron and me had changed more in twenty hours than it ever had in almost two years.

How could that be possible?

“Tell me what’s going on inside your head; you can trust me.” He lifted his free hand and cupped my face in his palm. “Let me show you that you can trust me.”

Oh God, I wanted to let him do that. Badly.

But it felt like jumping off a cliff. Bold. Too reckless. It petrified me.

Meeting his gaze, I realized I could drown in the blue of his eyes if I allowed myself to. Which only fueled my fear. Long gone was that block of ice I had preached about a handful of minutes ago. That simple gesture—his warm hand cupping my cheek—melted me to the ground. Dissolved me into nothing more than water. He had that power over me.

“I don’t know how.” I leaned my face into his palm. Just for a heartbeat. That was all I allowed myself.

Then, Aaron’s touch was gone, and the forgotten clothes that I still held under one arm were snagged out of my grip. He placed them somewhere else. The floor, the dresser, the bed—I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Not when a very particular emotion had solidified in his gaze. Determination.

Deep in my gut, I knew he was going to show me that I could trust him. That perhaps I could jump, and it would be okay. That maybe he wouldn’t let me drown like I felt I would.

Something settled in the air around us. Something thick and sultry changed the atmosphere in the small room.

“Close your eyes,” he requested. Although it hadn’t been a question. Not really.

It didn’t matter because my eyelids fell immediately shut.

For the first time in my life, I did exactly as Aaron had said without putting up a fight. Not a single bone in my body was willing to do anything else but follow his directions. Letting him show me whatever he was after.

Taking the weight of answering his question off my hands.

Eyes closed, I felt him stepping closer, his proximity like a warm blanket I wanted to wrap myself in.

With each lingering moment that passed, where I waited, every other sense gradually heightened. I could hear my heavy breathing, feel my chest heaving up and down, sense the way my blood was being pumped through my body, reaching my temples with growing intensity. I could feel the warmth radiating off Aaron’s large body in waves that seemed to be in perfect sync with my heartbeat.

And as his silence crowded the space between us, I kept waiting. In the darkness that had swallowed me, I anticipated his words, his touch, his next move like I had never anticipated anything in my life. Like I was ready to come out of my skin if he didn’t follow up that first command. Hating and relishing in every second that separated me from whatever was going to come next.

“Once, I told you I was patient.” Aaron’s breath fell on my temple, sending a rush of sensation along the back of my neck. “That I wasn’t scared to work hard for what I wanted.”

Closer. He was much closer than I’d thought, his proximity warming my skin even though not a part of our bodies touched. I could change that. I only needed to lift my hand, and I could be brushing those lips that were so close to my ear with my fingers. Or I could push him away and end this torture.

But then he continued, “I might not have been completely honest.”

I did neither of those two things. My hand didn’t reach out or push him away. Instead, I let the anticipation simmer in my blood. I let him take that choice away from me. And just as if he could read me like an open book, he did exactly that.

His lips finally brushed the skin right beneath my ear, triggering an outbreak of shivers that ran down my body, not sparing a single inch of flesh. “It’s becoming really hard to make myself wait.” Another pass of his lips over the same patch of skin. “You are very close to driving me out of my mind.”

A humorless chuckle left his lips then, the soft puff of air caressing and tickling my skin too. I sensed him come a step closer, and my heart raced.

“But I am a man of my word.”

My breath hitched in my throat when his lips came into contact with my neck once more, that time remaining there a heartbeat longer.

Aaron’s fingers trailed up my arm, reaching the other side of my neck and cupping my face. Just how he had done earlier. “Do you want me to step away?” His thumb grazed my jaw slowly.

My lips parted, and all I managed was a weak shake of my head.

An approving hum left Aaron. That sound alone did crazy, dang
erous things to my belly.

“You want my touch then.”

I did. Oh God, did I ever. But—

His fingers trickled down my throat, reaching the neckline of my sleeping T-shirt, liquefying every rational thought. But there was a warning in my head somewhere, something I should be remembering.

“Aaron,” I whispered.

The contact of his skin against mine was so gentle, so impossibly delicate, and yet it had the power to make me lose my mind. To ignite something in me. Just how he had proven ever since the fundraiser.

“Aaron,” I repeated.

His fingers halted, lifting off my skin right above my collarbone. I felt the loss of his touch immediately.

“What are we doing?” I asked, sounding desperate to my own ears. I released all the air in my lungs very slowly, grieving the way I had felt a heartbeat ago. But this was important. I had to say something to feel safer. To make sense of this. Otherwise, I’d sink under my own weight. I knew I would. “Is this … still pretending?” I swallowed. I hated my own words, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Is this just for practice?”

A loud voice in my head yelled at me to shut up. Not to ruin the moment and to let myself take as much as Aaron was willing to give me. But the truth was that I was terrified. Deep in my bones, I was shaking. Beneath all the ways my body kept reacting to every touch and word and craving more and more all the ones to come, it festered fear.

I felt Aaron’s sigh on my skin, and I was tempted to reach out and latch on to him before he stepped away. I had probably ruined everything.

“Would that make you feel better? I’ll pretend a little longer, if that’s what you need.”

“Yes.” The word left my lips in a rush.

I knew I’d come to regret saying that, probably sooner than later. This was a dangerous game. But in that moment, the only thing that seemed to matter was the safe bubble I had created around us. The lifeline I had begged him to throw me, and I was holding on to for dear life. If I inspected Aaron’s words too closely, I’d open my eyes, my brain would start functioning again, and our mouths would be busy talking.

The Spanish Love Deception

A Novel

Listen To An Excerpt

About The Book

A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

A TikTok sensation, this rom-com about a young woman who agrees to fake date a colleague and bring him to her sister’s wedding has “everything you could want in a romance” (Helen Hoang, New York Times bestselling author).

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

About The Author

Elena Armas is a Spanish writer, a self-confessed hopeless romantic, and proud book hoarder. After years of devouring HEAs and talking—okay fine, yelling—nonstop about them, she has finally taken the leap and decided to create some of her own.

The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

3.9 Язык Английский Жанр Любовные романы

The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

Elena Armas

Goodreads Author

Elena Armas is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestseller The Spanish Love Deception and its follow-up The American Roommate Experiment. She’s a Spanish writer, a self-confessed hopeless romantic, and much to Mr. B’s dismay, a proud book hoarder.

After years of devouring HEAs and talking (okay fine, yelling) nonstop about them, she has finally taken the leap and decided to create some of her own.

She hopes these stories make your heart skip a beat or two, your palms a little sweaty, and your cheeks flush in that rosy pink that makes other people want to peek at the page you are reading. Elena Armas is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestseller The Spanish Love Deception and its follow-up The American Roommate Experiment. She’s a Spanish writer, a self-confessed hopeless romantic, and much to Mr. B’s dismay, a proud book hoarder.

After years of devouring HEAs and talking (okay fine, yelling) nonstop about them, she has finally taken the leap and decided to create some of her own.

Испанский любовный обман

Елена Армас

Свадьба. Поездка в Испанию. Самый раздражающий мужчина. И три дня притворяться. Или, другими словами, план, который никогда не сработает.

Каталина Мартин, наконец, не одинока. Ее семья рада сообщить, что она приведет своего американского парня на свадьбу своей сестры. Приглашаем всех желающих стать свидетелями самого волшебного события года. Это наверняка станет завтрашним заголовком в местной газете маленького испанского городка, из которого я приехал. Или эпитафия на моем надгробии, видя, какой поворот приняла моя жизнь за один телефонный звонок.

Четыре недели — не так уж много времени, чтобы найти человека, готового пересечь…

Лучшая рецензия на книгу

30 июня 2022 г. 00:45

«Моменты, меняющие жизнь, длились от нескольких секунд до десятилетий. Это было частью магии жизни.»

Оригинальное название: The Spanish Love Deception

Перевод: любительский перевод

Язык: Русский (в оригинале Английский)

Рецензии

30 июня 2022 г. 00:45

«Моменты, меняющие жизнь, длились от нескольких секунд до десятилетий. Это было частью магии жизни.»

27 апреля 2022 г. 17:39

5 Испанский роман bollito и osito 🙂

Признаюсь честно, давно я так взапой не наслаждалась книгой, как этой.

Вам не нужно самостоятельно заниматься поиском выбранного товара. Мы поможем Вам подобрать точно такой же и Вы сможете посмотреть наши предложения в личном кабинете.

Вам не нужно самостоятельно заниматься поиском выбранного товара. Мы поможем подобрать Вам точно такой же и Вы сможете посмотреть наши предложения в личном кабинете.

The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas

Catalina Martín desperately needs a date to her sister’s wedding. Especially when her little white lie about her American boyfriend has spiralled out of control. Now everyone she knows – including her ex-boyfriend and his fiancée – will be there.

The Spanish Love Deception is an enemies-to-lovers, fake-dating romance. Perfect for those looking for a steamy slow-burn with the promise of a sweet happy-ever-after.

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Simon & Schuster UK (28 Oct. 2021)

Paperback ‏ : ‎ 480 pages

Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 13 x 2.9 x 19.8 cm

Elena Armas is a Spanish writer, a self confessed hopeless romantic, and much to Mr. B’s dismay, a proud book hoarder. After years of devouring HEAs and talking––okay fine, yelling––nonstop about them, she has finally taken the leap and decided to create some of her own.

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Роковые яйца

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Интересно) не шедевр, но неплохо) можно и почитать)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

The Spanish Love Deception

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Аннотация

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

The spanish love deception

“Well, Aaron, I really wish I could tell you she didn’t, but I would be lying.”

Years had taught me that Charo was unpredictable.

“So”—I changed the subject—“in a couple of hours, we will be meeting the youngest members of the Martín clan for phase one of the bachelor-slash-bachelorette party.”

“A little briefing, please?” he queried. Aaron had finished unpacking—which I hadn’t—so he leaned his back on the wardrobe that was in the corner of the room and gave me his full attention.

“You’ll be delighted to hear that we will spend the day outside, enjoying the warmth of the Spanish sun on our skin and doing something that has nothing to do with sipping mimosas and getting massages. Which was my idea.” I walked to the narrow dresser and grabbed a neat stack of towels. “My maid-of-honor duties were overruled by one of my youngest cousins, Gabi.” I placed the towels on the comforter. “And that means only one thing.” I paused dramatically. “The Wedding Cup.”

“The Wedding Cup?” A chuckle left Aaron’s lips.

Strangely, that little noise made me want to smile. I ignored it and gave him a rundown of how we’d be occupying our day instead.

“In the Wedding Cup”—I sighed—“Team Bride, which is composed of all the females invited to the bachelor-slash-bachelorette party, competes against Team Groom, which will be composed of the male ones.” I said that last part with sarcasm. “Real refreshing, huh? Boys against girls, competing in a series of games and activities. Yay.”

Aaron nodded, not taking any side. “I can tell, you are very excited. But please continue.”

I sent him a look. “The team that collects more points will secure the win and obtain the Wedding Cup.”

“And is this cup a physical trophy or just a symbolic reward?” Aaron asked, and I could tell he was trying to take this seriously. Unsuccessfully. He could barely contain his amusement.

“Listen”—my arms went to my hips in an attempt to make myself look imposing—“I told you I was not in control of this. I am more of a representative maid of honor. My cousin Gabi is one of those fitness-obsessed people, and she organized the whole thing. So, just be glad that you are not stuck with me on your team.” Picking up my toiletry and makeup bags, I walked to the modest en suite bathroom as I kept absently filling Aaron in while I placed all my things on the narrow space available. “I am not happy about this, okay? If it were for me, we would be at a spa while you guys went somewhere to do … guy stuff.”

“Guy stuff?” I heard Aaron’s voice coming from the bedroom.

“Yeah, punch your chests, drink beer like it’s the end of your lives, or go to a strip club. What do I know?” I shook my head, knowing I was being a little too stereotypical. “But no,” I continued, placing a travel-sized container of shampoo on the counter. “We couldn’t be so lucky. Funny enough, the one on board with this thing is Gonzalo. Who would have thought? A stupid competition over enjoying his last day as a bachelor away from his bride. Not that I’m shocked. Gonzalo has been crazy about my sister since the moment he laid eyes on her. So, why would he want to spend a day away from her?”

What they had was the real stuff. Honest, devoted, palpable love. The one that transcended distance, differences, and obstacles. The kind that was meant to be written about in books. Thinking of it filled my chest with warmth and longing for something I didn’t know I’d ever be able to find.

“Anyway, Gonzalo is the Wedding Cup’s biggest cheerleader. And something tells me, he’ll be more than thrilled when he sees you. He’ll holler and bro-hug you, and you’ll be his new best friend. I can tell. Gon is so competitive, always has been, so he’ll be over the moon to have the closest thing to a freaking Greek god on his team. Straight out of Olympia.” I snorted.

Aaron did look a little like one of those sculptures. All stoic with smooth and symmetrical lines. Gonzalo would love Aaron on the—

What did I just say?

My eyes closed at the realization that I had called Aaron a god. A Greek one. Out of Olympia. Out loud.

Oh, please, bathroom walls, be thick and soundproof. Please.

Sensing his presence somewhere behind me and considering the dimensions of both the room and en suite, I remained very still.

I opened my eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror in front of me.

Aaron was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

Inhaling a deep breath, I let my eyes travel around the counter, taking in everything and making my way up until finding Aaron’s gaze on the mirror.

“Chances of you not hearing me from the bedroom?” I ventured.

“It depends.” I watched his throat work, swallowing. “How good of hearing do Greek gods have?”

I had two options: own it like the grown-up woman I was, or ignore this had just happened and be a total chickenshit.

Rearranging every item I had just placed on the shelf in silence, I opted for the latter, all the while feeling his gaze following my every move.

A moment later, I sensed Aaron turn around, but before he walked away, I called for him, “Oh, and, Aaron?” I watched the reflection of his back in the mirror. “The losing team has to perform a choreographed dance tonight.”

No answer came from him, but when he finally took a step away, I could perfectly imagine the competitive gleam coming alive in his eyes.

I stood with my hands on my hips, getting a little lost in the palette of blues and greens that painted the view before me.

When people thought of Spain, they thought of jammed beaches under the merciless summer sun. They thought of tables loaded with jars of sangría, pans stuffed with paella, and a payload of tapas. They most likely thought of some dark-haired dude serenading the evening with impossibly masterful fingers stringing a guitar too. And in a way, they were not completely wrong. One could find that in Spain. But it was only a small part of what represented my home country. One that sadly didn’t even cover ten percent of what it offered.

The small city where I had come from stood on the most northern coast of the peninsula, wedged between the often fierce and ivory Cantabrian Sea and a range of emerald mountains.

Contrary to general belief, the country wasn’t bathed in sun throughout the whole year either. Particularly not the northern regions. Nope. The north of Spain was known for granting its inhabitants the chance to experience all four seasons in the span of a few hours, any day of the year. Which made possible for the vegetation to grow wild and lush, engulfing pastures and hills and creating an image very few thought of when it came to Spain.

So, yeah, summer wasn’t all that great in the north. But surprisingly, today the sky was clear, and the breeze from the sea was gentle. It brought me back to a time when, in days like these, we would try to make the most of it, as if our life depended on it. From dawn till dusk. Isabel and me. Las hermanas Martín. The Martín sisters.

Taking a peek at the group of people who had gathered today for the Wedding Cup, a little part of me wondered what was going on inside of Aaron’s head. What had been his first impression of the place that had seen me grow up? Of my people?

Introductions had gone better than good. If Spaniards were known for something, it was their openness and hospitality. Nobody had seemed to bat an eyelash at my fake boyfriend. Not more than the awkwardness of having a guiri—what we called tourists—and therefore having to use their rusty English.

Only the youngest generation of both the bride and groom’s families, their partners, and some of our closest friends were here. Except for our barbaric and free-spirited cousin Lucas, who no one knew where he had disappeared to this time. And the best man—otherwise known as Daniel, my ex, my first and only relationship, or the man my family believed I had never gotten over. He had not arrived yet.

“Aquí está mi hermana favorita.” My sister’s voice reached me a heartbeat before I was tackled from behind.

“I’m your only sister, idiot. Of course I’m your favorite.” I wrapped my hands around her forearms, which were resting on my collarbone.

“Forget about technicalities. You are still my fave.”

Sticking my tongue out, I looked at her over my shoulder. If not for our heart-shaped faces, we wouldn’t look anything alike. Isabel had always been taller and leaner than me. Her eyes had little green speckles to the brown we shared—something I had always been envious of—and her hair was curlier and darker, just like Mamá’s. But the differences didn’t stop there. Where my sis was this puzzle piece that fit anywhere at the first try, I had always seemed to struggle with finding my place. Somehow, I always managed to be missing a little corner or have an extra edge that pushed me to keep trying somewhere I might fit better. That pushed me to keep looking for that place to call home. Because that was no longer Spain for me. But neither was New York as much as I had Rosie and a career I was proud of. It had always felt … a little lonely. Incomplete.

“Hello? Earth calling Lina,” she said, coming to my side and tugging at my arm. “What’s up with you today? Why are you hiding here?”

I had been doing that, hadn’t I? Even if only for a few minutes.

My big sister knew me far too well, so I made a note of being extra watchful around her with Aaron. If there was someone who would see through the deception, it would be Isabel.

“Not hiding.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I was just trying to have a moment of peace away from the bridezilla. I heard she almost ripped the groom’s head off because he’d bought the wrong shoes.”

I stepped away and turned, so I could face her.

“You heard that right.” My sister and bride-to-be brought a hand to her chest, feigning dismay. “I let him pick one thing, Lina. One. And he came home, all proud and happy, with a pair of shoes that made me question my taste in men, really.” She shook her head. “I was this close to uninviting him to my wedding.”

“Our wedding, you mean.” I laughed.

“Yeah. Didn’t I say that?” The corner of her lips tugged up with mischief. “Anyway, I think we still have about an hour or so until lunch break. Are you ready?”

A look passed between us.

“For my death? Always.”

“Come on, drama queen,” Isabel said, linking our arms and pulling me in the direction of the group. “Time to go back. Gabi sent me to fetch you. There’s a schedule, you know.”

“Oh, stop that. It’ll be fun.”

“It hasn’t been, and it won’t be,” I said, dragging my feet but following her because what choice did I have? “Gabi has turned into this cute but terrifying sports mogul, and everyone is scared of her.”

Isa snorted. “It’s not that bad. Plus, we might still win. We are only three points behind those stupid suckers.”

“Did you just call your fiancé a stupid sucker?”

“Fine, we are only three points behind Team Groom. Better?”

“Better. But”—I shot her a humorless glance over my shoulder—“they are still going to smash us like cockroaches.”

Shaking my head, I thought of how unathletic Team Bride was compared to our male counterpart. The points we had collected were lame pity points Gabi had given us to keep the team motivated. Well, everybody else on the team but me. Motivation had left me long ago. I was ready to call it a day and go stuff my mouth with food. My jet-lagged body had flipped the hungry switch, even before we started running around with this nonsense.

“You can blame yourself for that.” My sister’s pointer finger joined her accusation. “You brought Clark Kent’s doppelgänger to the party.”

“He does look like him, doesn’t he?”

Isabel nodded. “And by the way …” She paused, and before I could dodge it or be prepared for it, she tugged at my ponytail. A little too hard.

“Hey!” I grabbed my hair and moved out of the trajectory of other possible attacks. “What the hell was that for, bridezilla?!”

“Don’t be a baby; you deserved it. How dare you keep that”—Isabel pointed at Aaron, making me smack her hand down—“hidden from me!”

“Isabel,” I warned.

She went on, ignoring me and waving her index finger in my fake boyfriend’s direction, “When my sister starts dating someone, I expect a full report. Vivid descriptions, photos, videos, oil paintings—I don’t care. Even those dick pics I mentioned, which you never sent.”

“Isabel.” I lowered my voice. “Shut up. He will hear you.”

We were only a few feet away from the group.

She cocked an eyebrow and then tilted her head slowly.

“He is dating you. What’s the big deal with him hearing you talk about it with your sister? You’ve seen his penis. We are allowed to discuss it.” She rolled her eyes. “Actually, I think we are expected to do that. I’m sure he’s talked to his friends about your bubbies.”

I cursed under my breath.

She stared at me, inspecting my reaction.

I looked nervously in Aaron’s direction. Our gazes met. Those blue eyes, which always seemed to find me, held mine for a long moment.

Jesus, did he hear that?

Shaking my head very lightly, I returned my gaze back to my sister.

“You know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “you only mentioned him a couple of times, so I was convinced it wasn’t that serious. But I’m not so sure of that anymore.”

“What do you mean?” My heart sped up as I feared what she might say.

We had barely had any time to act all snuggly and lovey-dovey or however a boyfriend and girlfriend were supposed to behave. All the Wedding Cup shenanigans had consumed all our time and energy.

“Well, for one, he’s here,” Isabel pointed out. “You bringing him home—to meet Mamá and Papá and basically the entire town—tells me that he’s not just anyone. There must be something special about him. You wouldn’t bring someone you were casually seeing or dating. Not even if they looked like him. You don’t trust people easily anymore.”

Stumbling over my own thoughts, I came to a stop.

Her words had smacked me right in the face. Emptying me of anything I could say.

Impostor. The accusation took shape in my head. How could it not when I was a big, fat liar?

Isabel took my silence as a sign to keep talking. “Then, there’s the way his eyes have been on you the whole time we’ve been here.”

“It’s been only, what? A couple of hours? And he’s still absorbed by you, watching and following every single move you make, as if you were pooping rainbows and leaving behind a trail of glitter. It would be disgusting if I wasn’t in love myself.” She patted my hand. “And trust me, sis, you all red and blotchy? Not that cute.”

My head whirled in Aaron’s direction again. He was chugging water from a bottle, not looking half as physically exerted as everybody else. Even after carrying Team Groom on his back along with Gonzalo. As I got lost in the way his arm stretched and his throat worked down the water, I wondered if my sister had imagined all that or if Aaron’s acting was that amazing. Maybe I hadn’t given him enough credit.

“Anyway,” she added as we finally reached the group, “you’ll have to catch me up on this and tell me all the dirty details. Don’t think that just because I haven’t drilled you for them, I don’t want them.” Isabel warned me with a look that told me she’d bug me until I broke under the pressure. “But until then, just keep doing whatever you are doing.” She winked. “Because, hermanita, he has it bad.”

A snort involuntarily escaped my lips. “Yeah, sure.”

Isabel quirked an eyebrow.

Oh shit. “Of course he has it bad, Isa.” I waved my hand. “He’s my boyfriend,” I tried to assure her, not sounding anywhere close to convincing.

So, I quickened my pace and left my big sister behind before I led her to uncover the whole farce. Thankfully, as soon
as I reached the group, Gabi was already wielding her printed schedule and trying to gather everyone closer. In a perfect circle.

Rolling my eyes at that, I watched my cousin and Wedding Cup mastermind start shouting out orders in Spanish while we all tried to ignore how Gonzalo snagged my sister from behind and engulfed her in an embrace that included more than a fair share of inappropriate groping and fondling.

“Yikes,” I muttered under my breath. “That’s my sister.”

But at the same time, something squeezed in my chest. I realized that a small part of me observed the public display of affection with something that felt a lot like longing. And that compressing sensation bothered me; it awoke a very particular set of questions I had no answers to. All of them revolving around the same thing.

Would I ever find what Gonzalo and Isabel had? Would I ever allow myself to?

Would I ever be so head over heels, crazy in love that everything else would fade to black noise?

My gaze searched for Aaron, not because I wanted him to emulate Gonzalo, but because maybe everyone else expected him to. Not spotting him anywhere in the less than perfect circle of people around Gabi, I grew a little concerned as she shot more and more instructions to the group. His head would roll if he didn’t get here ASAP.

A light touch on my arm grabbed my attention. Turning my head, I was welcomed by a pair of blue eyes that regarded me with something strange.

“Here you are,” I whispered loudly while Gabi kept going at it in the background. “I was scared for your well-being. Where did you go?”

“I’ve been right here the whole time.”

That strange quality was still there. But I brushed it away. I had no time to inspect whatever I’d thought I saw in Aaron’s eyes. Instead, I focused on how good he looked in his nylon shorts and short-sleeved henley.

“Are you having fun?” He offered me a bottle of water, pushing it gently in my direction.

“Oh, thank you.” I reached for it with both hands, managing to brush my palms along his fingers somehow. Sparks traveled all the way up my arms, making me retrieve my hands quickly and hold the bottle to my chest. “That was … sweet. Very boyfriend-like of you.” I looked up at him, finding him frowning. I didn’t give him the chance to complain. “And not too much fun, to be completely honest,” I admitted with a small pout. I had been serious when I told my sister that I was ready to call it a day. “Thank God we are about to be done here. Otherwise, I’d have to fake breaking a leg or a wrist.” I lowered my voice. “Or knocking off Gabi with something.”

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Роковые яйца

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Интересно) не шедевр, но неплохо) можно и почитать)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

The Spanish Love Deception

Рейтинг: 0/5 (Всего голосов: 0)

Аннотация

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Роковые яйца

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Интересно) не шедевр, но неплохо) можно и почитать)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

The Spanish Love Deception

Рейтинг: 0/5 (Всего голосов: 0)

Аннотация

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

Испанский любовный обман

Елена Армас

27 апреля 2022 г. 17:39

5 Испанский роман bollito и osito 🙂

Признаюсь честно, давно я так взапой не наслаждалась книгой, как этой.

31 мая 2022 г. 13:49

4 «Да я бы лучше макаку в смокинге взяла с собой на свадьбу, чем пойти с тобой»

21 июня 2022 г. 13:21

5 Одна из самых классных историй, прочитанных мной за последнее время.

Отличный slowburn роман для всех поклонников Запаты.

Несмотря на то, что отношения героев развиваются…

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Роковые яйца

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Интересно) не шедевр, но неплохо) можно и почитать)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

The Spanish Love Deception

Рейтинг: 0/5 (Всего голосов: 0)

Аннотация

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

The American Roommate Experiment

From the author of the Goodreads Choice Award winner The Spanish Love Deception, the eagerly anticipated follow-up featuring Rosie Graham and Lucas Martín, who are forced to share a New York apartment.

The Spanish Love Deception

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

The Spanish Love Deception is an enemies-to-lovers, fake-dating romantic comedy. Perfect for those looking for a steamy slow-burn romance with the sweetest Happily Ever After.

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

The Spanish Love Deception is an enemies-to-lovers, fake-dating romantic comedy. Perfect for those looking for a steamy slow-burn romance with the sweetest Happily Ever After.

The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

3.9 Idioma InglГЄs Categoria Romance

The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

A TikTok sensation, this rom-com about a young woman who agrees to fake date a colleague and bring him to her sisterвЂ™s wedding has вЂњeverything you could want in a romanceвЂќ (Helen Hoang, New York Times bestselling author).

Catalina MartГn desperately needs a date to her sisterвЂ™s wedding. Especially since her little white lie about her American boyfriend has spiralled out of control. Now everyone she knowsвЂ”including her ex and his fiancГ©eвЂ”will be there and eager to meet him.

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family wonвЂ™t be easy to fool.

Enter Aaron BlackfordвЂ”her tall, handsome, condescending colleagueвЂ”who surprisingly offers to step in. SheвЂ™d rather refuse; never has there been a more aggravating, blood-boiling, and insufferable man.

But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

The spanish love deception

The Spanish Love Deception, страница 10

Taking in the state of my apartment, I massaged my temples. Not having walls separating the living room from the bedroom and kitchen areas was something I usually loved. Something I liked to see as an advantage of living in an open studio space—even if limitedly small since this was still Brooklyn. But inspecting the mess I had made of the entire apartment, I sort of hated not living somewhere roomier. Somewhere with walls that would stop me from wrecking the whole place.

There were clothes, shoes, and bags scattered everywhere—on the bed, sofa, chairs, floor, coffee table. Nothing had been spared. The usually tidy apartment that I had so carefully decorated in whites and creams with some boho details here and there—like the beautiful woven rug that had cost me more than I’d ever admit—closer resembled a fashion battlefield than a home.

I wanted to scream.

Tying the belt of my robe tighter, I grabbed my phone from the top of my dresser.

Two hours until seven sharp, and I was helpless. Outfit-less. Because I didn’t have any dress that resembled a gown. Because I was dumb. Because I didn’t know what I was dressing for and I hadn’t asked.

I didn’t even have Aaron’s phone number to text him an SOS and a few hostile emojis to make myself clear. It wasn’t like I had ever found pleasure in fraternizing with the enemy, so I had never needed his number.

Not until now, apparently.

Throwing my phone on top of a discarded pile of garments, I headed for the snug space that was my living room. Grabbing my laptop from the round ecru coffee table I had picked up from a flea market a few weeks ago, I placed the device on my lap and let my body fall onto the sofa.

Once settled in the padded cushions, I logged in to my corporate email account.

It was my last resort. With a little bit of luck, his workaholic ass would be sitting in front of his laptop on a Saturday. And wasn’t this … deal we had made a little like a business transaction? It had to be. We weren’t friends—or friendly—so that didn’t leave room for more than a purely I scratch your back, you scratch mine kind of deal. A favor between colleagues.

With no more time to waste, I opened a new email and started typing.

Subject: Urgent Info Needed!

I was irritated—at myself yes, but also at him—and I wasn’t in a first name basis kind of mood.

As per our last conversation, I’m still waiting for you to disclose the details of our upcoming meeting. I find myself without all sources of information, which will consequently lead to an unsuccessful completion of the contract discussed.

I had watched all seasons of Gossip Girl, and I knew the terrible consequences of wearing the wrong thing to a “social commitment” in New York freaking City.

As no doubt you are aware of, it is of utmost importance that you share all info needed at your earliest convenience.

Please get back to me ASAP.

Smirking at myself, I hit Send and watched my email leave my outbox. Then, I stared at my screen for a long minute, waiting for his answer to pop up in my inbox. By the third time I unsuccessfully refreshed my email, the smirk was long gone. By the fifth, little drops of sweat—which were partly due to the fact that I was clad in a winter robe—started forming in the back of my neck.

What if he didn’t answer?

Or even worse, what if all this wasn’t more than a prank? A mean way to mess with my head and make me believe he’d help me. What if he’d Carrie’d me?

No, Aaron wouldn’t do that, a voice in my head said.

But why wouldn’t he though? I had more than enough evidence compiled to prove that Aaron was very much capable of something like that.

Did I even know him at all? He attended “social commitments” that had to do with “good causes”, for crying out loud. I did not know him.

Fuck. I needed those cookies. I’d indulge.

When I returned to my laptop, cookie package in hand and mouthful of sugary and buttery comfort, Aaron’s answer was waiting for me. A tiny sigh of relief left my lips.

Biting on a new cookie, I clicked on Aaron’s email.

Subject: Re: Urgent Info Needed!

I’ll be there in an hour.

A fit of coughs prevented me from finishing that, the mouthful I had been chewing on getting stuck in my throat and not moving anywhere.

Aaron was coming. To my apartment. In one hour. Which was an hour before we had agreed he’d pick me up.

Grabbing some water from the kitchen, I looked around, taking in the chaos. “Mierda.”

I shouldn’t care; I knew I shouldn’t. But Aaron seeing this? Hell no. I’d rather choke on another cookie than give him ammunition against me. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.

I placed the glass back on the counter, and without losing a second more, I put myself to work. One hour. I had sixty minutes—and knowing Aaron, it wouldn’t be a second more or less—to fix this wardrobe mayhem.

And just like that, it took me the whole hour to leave the apartment presentable enough, so when the doorbell rang, not only had I not had any time to change into something that didn’t make me look like a human-sized Furby, but my frustration had also only increased.

“Stupidly punctual man,” I muttered under my breath as I stomped toward my apartment door. “Always on time.”

I buzzed him in.

Fixing the messy bun atop my head, I tried to cool off.

He’s helping you. Be nice, I told myself. You need him.

A knock on the door.

I waited two seconds and took a deep breath, readying myself to be as nice as I could manage.

Grabbing on to the handle, I arranged my expression into a neutral one and threw the door open.

“Aaron,” I said in a clipped tone. “I …” I was about to say … something else, but whatever that was vanished. Along with that neutral expression I had been going for. My lips parted, jaw hanging open. “I—” I started again, not finding any words. I cleared my throat. “I—hi. Hello. Whoa. Okay.”

Aaron stared back at me with a funny look while I simply blinked, hoping that my eyes hadn’t grown too big in my face.

Although how could they not? How couldn’t any pair of eyes not grow two sizes bigger at the sight of what was in front of me?

Because that wasn’t Aaron. No. Nuh-uh. Before me was a man I had never seen before. A version of Aaron that was different from the only one I knew.

This Aaron was … drop-dead gorgeous. And not in an easy on the eyes way. This Aaron was elegant. Classy. Sleek. Attractive in an overwhelming ladies and gents, grab your fans kind of way.

Shit, why did he look like that? Where was the Aaron in dull slacks and a boring button-down that I had black-listed and filed under do not touch? How in the world had it taken me nothing more than a single look at him to stutter like a schoolgirl?

Blinking, I found the answer right in front of me. That enormous and lean body that I shouldn’t have been noticing this much was clad in a black suit. No, it wasn’t a suit. It was a tuxedo. A freaking tuxedo that belonged on a red carpet and not in the door to my apartment in Bed-Stuy, if you asked me.

Nothing about him belonged here with me. Not his midnight hair, not the crisp white shirt and bow tie, not that deep blue gaze that surveyed me and my reaction, not the freaking movie-star tux, and certainly not those dark brows that were drawing together on his forehead.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I asked in a breath. “Is this a joke? What did I tell you about trying to be funny, Aaron?”

“What am I wearing?” I watched his eyes leave mine and travel down my neck, looking me up and down a couple of times. “Me?”

Something changed in his ex
pression, as if he couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

“Yeah.” Feeling extremely exposed and uncomfortable, I waited for his gaze to return to my face, not knowing what else to say or do. “What is that?” I whispered loudly for a reason I couldn’t understand.

“I feel the obligation to ask you the same question. Because I wasn’t specific.” He pointed a long finger in my general direction. “But I imagined you were smarter than assuming I’d take you to a slumber party.”

I swallowed, fully aware my ears were turning red. But I shook my head. This is actually good. This Aaron I could deal with. I knew how to do that. Unlike the other version that had punched the breath out of my lungs. That I had no idea what to do with.

Fixing my gaze on his face, I squared my shoulders. “Oh, you think I should really change?” I grabbed on to the hem of my pink robe, trying not to think of how ridiculous I was actually feeling and hiding that emotion behind all my bravado instead. “I wouldn’t want to show up overdressed to the slumber party you mentioned. Do you think there will be any snacks?

He seemed to consider that for a long moment. “How are you not boiling up inside there? That’s a lot of velour for such a tiny person.”

“And that’s a deep knowledge in fabrics for someone whose wardrobe is made of two different pieces of clothing.”

An emotion flickered across his face, one I didn’t catch on time. He closed his eyes very briefly, inhaling through his nose.

He was irritated. His patience slipping away from him. I could tell.

We won’t make it. We are doomed.

“First,” he said, regaining his composure, “you blatantly ogle me.”

That sent a wave of heat straight to my cheeks. Busted.

“Then, you reprimand me for what I’m wearing. And now, you criticize my sense of style. Are you going to let me in, or do you always keep guests outside your door while you insult them?”

“Who said you were a guest?” Inhaling through my nose and not hiding my irritation at him calling me out, I turned around and walked away, leaving him standing before the entrance to my apartment. “You invited yourself over,” I said over my shoulder. “I guess you don’t mind letting yourself in either, huh, big boy?”

Big boy? I closed my eyes, extremely thankful to be facing the other way.

Still not able to believe I had really called Aaron Blackford big boy, I headed for the kitchen area of my studio and opened the fridge. The cool air graced my skin, making me feel only slightly better. I stared into it for a full minute, and when I finally turned, I did with a fake smile.

Aaron Blackford—and his tuxedo—leaned against the narrow island that delimited my kitchen and living room spaces. His blue gaze was somewhere above my knees. Still studying my attire, which he seemed to find so outrageously intriguing.

It bothered me, I realized. The way he looked at it made me feel inadequate even though I was at home and he was the intruder who had shown up earlier than we had agreed. It was stupid, but it reminded me of how small he had made me feel all those months ago when I overheard him talking to Jeff. Or how he had almost thrown that mug I had gotten him as a welcome gift at my face. Or how all the remarks and jabs that came after that had never stopped bothering me.

Rosie had been right; I was incapable of letting it go. I was still holding my grudge like my life depended on it. Like my grudge was a door floating on the ocean and I was out of life jackets.

“It seems rather inappropriate for summer.” Aaron nodded at my robe.

He wasn’t wrong. I was boiling up, but I had needed the comfort.

I imitated him and leaned on the kitchen counter behind me. “Can I offer you something to drink, Anna Wintour? Or would you like to point out any other way in which my robe is outrageous instead?”

I watched his lips twitch, fighting a smile. Me, on the other hand, I found none of this remotely funny.

“How about water?” He did not move a single muscle besides the corners of his lips, which were still battling against that smile.

“You know”—I retrieved a water bottle and placed it beside him. Then, I grabbed another one for myself—“you could have just emailed me back. You didn’t need to show up here this early.”

“I know.” Of course he did. “I did you a favor, coming here ahead of time.”

“A favor?” My eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Doing me a favor would have included showing up with your pockets filled with churros.”

“I’ll try my best to remember that,” he said, sounding like he meant it. And just as I was opening my mouth to ask him what that was supposed to mean, he continued, “Why didn’t you call me instead of sending that … intricate email? It would have saved us both some time, Miss Martín.” That last part he added with a scowl.

Ha, I knew that Mr. Blackford would strike a nerve.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t ask you to come here. So, that’s on you.” I opened the lid of my bottle and took a gulp of water. “And secondly, how would I have called you if I don’t have your number, smart-ass?”

I looked at him over the bottle.

Aaron’s dark brows knit. “You should have it. On our last division’s team-building event, we passed along all our private phone numbers. I have yours. I have everyone’s.”

I slowly lowered the bottle and screwed the lid on. “Well, I don’t have yours.” I had refused to save Aaron’s number because, again, I was a grudge-holder. Something that didn’t make me feel all that great right now, but that didn’t change the truth. “Why would I have needed it anyway?”

I watched him take in my words for a moment, and then he shook his head lightly. Straightening, he leaned away from the kitchen island.

“What was so important then?” He got us back on track. “What details do you need disclosed with so much urgency?”

“I can’t pick an outfit if I don’t know where we are going, Blackford,” I pointed out with a shrug. “It’s like Dressing Up for Dummies 101.”

“But I told you.” One of his eyebrows rose. “A social commitment.”

“That’s what you said.” I placed the bottle on the counter and then brought my hands together. “And it wasn’t enough information. I need a few more details.”

“An evening gown,” the hardheaded, blue-eyed man answered. “That should have been enough information to pick a dress.”

Scoffing, I brought a hand to my fluffy pink chest and clutched my metaphoric pearls. “Enough information?” I repeated very slowly.

I sneered, not believing my eyes. He genuinely thought he was right about this. “One- and two-worded responses are not enough information, Aaron.”

Especially after seeing that he looked ready to jump into an Upper East Side gala where people air-kissed each other and talked about their vacations in the Hamptons. I certainly didn’t have anything like that in my wardrobe.

“What’s so hard to understand about the words evening and gown?” His hand absently went to the sleeve of his tux jacket. “They are gowns for evening events. Dresses.”

“Are you really explaining that to me?” I started feeling a new wave of frustration rush to my head. “You are just …” I continued, fisting my hands, edging very close to really throwing something at him. “Ugh.”

Aaron’s hands went to his pants pockets as he eyed me, looking all … handsome and classy in that goddamn tux.

Something must have bubbled all the way to my face because the way he looked at me changed.

“It’s a charity event. A fundraiser that takes place every year,” he explained.

My lips parted at that crucial piece of information.

“We will have to drive into Manhattan—Park Avenue.”

No, no, no, no. That sounded fancy.

“It’s a black-tie thing, so you’ll need to dress up. A formal evening gown.” His gaze went up and down my body with doubt, finall
y settling back on my face. “Just like I said.”

“Aaron,” I gritted out through my teeth. “Mierda. Joder.” The Spanish bad words rolled off my tongue. “A fundraiser? A charity event? That is so … upper classy.” I shook my head, my hair almost coming off my knot. “No, it sounds upper I wipe my ass with dollar bills classy. And no, I don’t mean to be judgy here, but, Jesus.” Bringing my hands to my head, I started pacing the few feet that comprised my kitchen space. “A little heads-up would have been nice. You could have told me yesterday, you know? I would have gone shopping this morning, Aaron. I would have prepared, I don’t know, a few options for you to choose from. I have no idea what I’m going to do now. I have a couple of formal gowns, but they are not … right.”

It was past six in the evening and—

“You would have done all that for this?” His lips parted very briefly, giving him a bewildered air that I was not used to seeing in him. Then, his jaw returned to its former position. “For me?”

I stopped pacing. “Yes.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Why was he so shocked? “Of course I would have.” Studying his face, I took in the weird way in which he was looking at me. “First of all, I would hate to show up to your ‘charity event’ ”—I air-quoted—“looking like a clown. Believe it or not, I do have some sense of self-esteem and the ability to get embarrassed.”

Aaron’s eyes kept shining with that quality that made me nervous.

“And second of all, I wouldn’t want you to retaliate and wear God knows what to my sister’s wedding, just to spite me. Or like, back out on me for some kind of etiquette infringement now that I’m counting on you coming to Spain with me. I …” I trailed off, losing my voice. “I kind of need you, you know?”

That last part had somehow materialized on my tongue. I didn’t realize it had left my mouth until it was too late and I wasn’t able to take it back.

“I’d never do that,” he answered, catching me by surprise. “I won’t back out. We have a deal.”

Feeling exposed by my admission, I averted my eyes. I focused on his hands, which had fallen out of his pockets and rested by his sides.

The Spanish Love Deception

(Spanish Love Deception #1)

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no Catalina Martín desperately needs a date to her sister’s wedding. Especially since her little white lie about her American boyfriend has spiralled out of control. Now everyone she knows—including her ex and his fiancée—will be there and eager to meet him.

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

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תרמית האהבה הספרדית | אלנה ארמאס

טוב אז יש סיבה למה הספר הזה דובר עליו בכל מקום כמעט.
ועכשיו אחרי שסיימתי (לא כי רציתי לסיים) אני מבינה (כי אני חייבת להבין לצערי כי נגמר לי הספר 😭)

ספר שונאים לאוהבים fake dating מושלם.
הדמות של ארון בלקפורד היא לגמרי גבר ספרותי שלהתעלף עליו! אני מבינה את כל הטירוף סביבו! אני מאוהבת.

לינה עברה מספרד לארה״ב לפני שנים בעקבות מקרה לא נעים שקרה לה עם האקס שלה.
עכשיו, אחותה מתחתנת בספרד והאקס שלה עומד להיות נוכח בחתונה (הוא האח של החתן)
היא משקרת בטעות לא תרמית האהבה הספרדית | אלנה ארמאס

לינה עברה מספרד לארה״ב לפני שנים בעקבות מקרה לא נעים שקרה לה עם האקס שלה.
עכשיו, אחותה מתחתנת בספרד והאקס שלה עומד להיות נוכח בחתונה (הוא האח של החתן)
היא משקרת בטעות לאימא שלה שיש לה דייט לחתונה כדי שלא ירחמו עליה, ועכשיו היא תקועה בלי דייט ולא יודעת מה לעשות.

ארון, האויב המושבע שלה בעבודה, זה שבכל יום הם יורדים אחד על השני מציע לה לקחת אותו כדייט.
וללינה אין יותר מדי ברירות.

אתן לא מבינות איזה ספר מושלם!
למרות שהוא כתוב רק מנקודת המבט של קטלינה והייתי נותנת הכל לפרק מהצד של ארון!
נהנתי כל כך ממשחקי החם קר שלהם.
וארון התגלה כיהלום שעשה פשוט הכל בשביל לינה ועוד מול המשפחה שלה!
אני מאוהבת קשות!

זה רומן בעירה איטית! זה לאט ממש.
אבל נשבעת לך שמה75 אחוז ועד הסוף לא רציתי לסיים.

סיפור מושלם ובאמת אחד הספרים שבהחלט אחזור אליהם בעתיד כשאהיה במצב רוח.
הוא מלא במצבים משעשעים וצחקקתי כל הקריאה.
ומצאתי את עצמי אומרת ״או ארון…״ עם עיניים חולמניות וריר בצד הפה שלי בערך כל הספר.
מישהי יודעת איפה משיגים ארון כזה?

באמת שצחקתי ממש
למדתי קצת ספרדית
והספר הזה לגמרי עשה לי חשק לעשות תרמית עם מישהו ואז שהוא יתאהב בי.

The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas (ePUB)

The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas – Free eBooks Download

Description:

A wedding. A trip to Spain. The most infuriating man. And three days of pretending. Or in other words, a plan that will never work.

Like my abuela would say, que dios nos pille confesados.

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The spanish love deception

“I’m here. I’m right here.” I lifted my head and moved, so I could cup his face, take a good look at that face I had been so set on despising and now loved so much. “And I’m going to take care of you.”

His eyes fluttered closed, and I heard a strangled sound coming from his throat.

“I love you, Aaron. You shouldn’t be alone—ever. And I am the one meant to be with you. Here. Holding your hand.”

His eyes remained closed, his jaw pressed tightly.

“Let me do it. Let me prove to you that I trust you and that I can earn your trust back. That I am the one who’s supposed to be by your side right now and as long as you’ll let me.”

“You want to do that?”

“Yes,” I rushed out quickly. “Yes, yes. Of course I want to,” I repeated. “I need to,” I whispered, not trusting my voice. “Let me be here for you. Take care of you.”

One of his hands latched on to my wrist as I still cupped his face desperately. I was ready to fight. I was ready to beg if it was necessary.

“You came all the way here. You …” He trailed off, disbelief crumpling his face. “How did you even find me?”

“I had to come to you.” My fingers trailed down the side of his neck, my palm settling against the warm skin. “I remembered everything you’d told me. About Seattle, your dad being somewhat known here. So, I Googled your last name, the university football team, the coaching staff. Then, I looked for a list of hospitals where he could have checked in. I knew you’d be here because you wouldn’t leave his side if he was in critical condition, like Sharon had told me. And you haven’t. You are here. It only took me a few tries. I would have turned the city upside down if I hadn’t found you. I wouldn’t have rested until getting to you.”

I finally allowed my lungs to take in a breath. And I found Aaron’s eyes shining with something that made my chest ache in a warm and wonderful way.

“I did call you, but it went straight to voice mail, and then I just … didn’t want to busy your head with anything else. And …” My voice lowered to a whisper. “And I did not want to give you a chance to tell me not to come. I was terrified you wouldn’t want me to. So, I didn’t call again. I just came to you instead.”

A shudder rocked Aaron’s body.

“You blow my goddamn mind, my rules, my world,” he breathed, those ocean-blue eyes capturing my gaze like they never had before. “When I least expect it, I find you ready to dynamite your way right into my heart. As if you hadn’t done that already.” The grip of his fingers on my wrist tightened, pulling me to him, and I could feel the soft air leaving his mouth, falling on my lips. “As if you hadn’t already dismantled me for anybody else. As if I wasn’t at your mercy.”

Hope, warm and soft hope, fell over my shoulders. “I have done all that?”

Aaron’s forehead fell on mine, and I had no choice but to close my eyes. To take it all and control this whirlwind of emotion threatening to turn me inside out.

“With every smile, you have done exactly that.” I felt his lips brushing over mine briefly, sending a shiver down my spine. “With every single time you have been infuriatingly stubborn and impossibly beautiful, all at once.” He placed a kiss on the corner of my eye. “With every time you have shown the world how incredibly strong you are, even when you don’t believe so yourself.” A kiss on the tip of my nose. “With all the ways your mind amazes and disturbs me in ways I’ll never understand and not ever tire of.” His lips landed on my cheekbone, flicking across the skin. “With how every single time you laugh, I want to throw you over my shoulder and run somewhere I can covet that sound just for myself.” A kiss was brushed on my jaw, his lips then sweeping along until reaching my ear. “And with every other unfathomable way you have made me completely yours.”

“Yours,” I repeated, my heart expanding in my chest. Lurching itself against my rib cage. Wanting out and into Aaron’s. “I’m yours too, Aaron. So completely yours. I have … fallen in love with you. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. I love you.” I didn’t recognize my own voice, not with the loud thumping in my ears. “I was so stupid to let you walk away. So, so dumb. But I got lost in my head. I was so scared, Aaron. I didn’t want to lose everything I had worked so hard for. To have people look at me like they had all those years ago. To lose you, too, when you realized that I was a complication.”

“You’d never be one.”

“I know that now, but I somehow convinced myself that letting you go was the best thing I could do to protect myself from that happening again.” I shook my head, pushing that dreadful emotion out of my chest. I’d tell Aaron about Sharon and the investigation on Gerald. But now wasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry for not being here for you like I should have.”

He looked at me like he didn’t want my apologies, but I didn’t let him talk.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, not because I believe that we can somehow be together now, but because I can’t conceive of being anywhere else but beside you.” I swallowed hard, trying to rein in every emotion threatening to burst out. “You know that, right?” I leaned in, my lips brushing over his. Very softly, almost tentatively. Waiting for his answer.

“I do now.” A low grunt came from his throat. His fingers tightened once more around my wrist. The arm around my waist brought me even deeper into his chest. “I do, Lina. And I don’t plan on letting you forget that.”

The hand that had been on my wrist trailed up my arm, his palm cupping my face. I leaned into his touch, feeling like I could live only on Aaron’s caresses and kisses.

“I would have come back for you, you know? I told you I wouldn’t let you quit on us. You still owed me that four-letter word.”

He had said that. And the realization made my stomach drop to my feet. How dumb I had been. Aaron hadn’t given up on us; that had been only me. Only temporarily. While Aaron had been holding on to this. To us. All this time. Even when he needed someone by his side the most. And that … that made the heart in my chest burst into a hundred million pieces, only to reassemble into something different. Something that didn’t belong to me anymore. It belonged to us.

“It’s yours. Love and all the other four-letter words I could ever give you.” I placed a kiss on his mouth, not able to hold myself back any longer. I took my time with his lips, claiming them as mine. Claiming him.

A hum sounded deep in his throat. “You are stuck with me, Catalina.”

Both arms cradled me closer in his lap, further into his chest. The side of my head rested against his drumming heart, his chin on the top of my hair, and peace—an overpowering kind of peace I had never heard of or experienced before—settled between my shoulders. And I knew then that we’d take anything on as long as we were together. We were a team. We’d light up each other’s way, hold each other’s hand, and push the other forward when we stumbled. Together. We’d do anything together.

Just like we would get through this. I’d get Aaron through this.

“Aaron?” I lifted my gaze and met his. “I’m here for you now. I’m going to take care of you,” I told him simply.

He sighed; it was deep and slow, and it sounded like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“But just know that if I had known your dad was sick, I would have never let you come to Spain with me. Why didn’t you tell me when you talked a
bout him, Aaron? I know you don’t owe me an explanation, but I want to know. I want to understand better.”

“Because everything … changed.” His throat worked, and his gaze took on a lost edge. “He has been battling cancer for the last year. Ironic huh? First, Mom and now…” Aaron trailed off, needing a second to compose himself. “Until a few days ago, I had planned on remaining away. Leave things the way they were between us. Even when I flew home a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, it was after my promotion was announced. That was what kept me from talking to you about our deal.”

I had not noticed Aaron taking days off back then, although work had been completely crazy, so I guessed I had been distracted. But it all made sense now.

“I would have talked to you eventually. I would have managed either way.”

“That doesn’t matter now, baby,” I told him, meaning every word.

He sighed deeply. “So, I came all the way to Seattle, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. To admit to myself, to show him that I still cared when he had pushed me away all those years ago. When he was the father I had already lost.”

My fingers drew circles on his chest, right above his heart. “What changed then?”

“Everything did.” He exhaled, and it came out shaky and pained. “I … I somehow thought I had you, and then just as quickly, I didn’t. And as much as I was set on not letting you quit on me, I saw it in your eyes. You had really given up on us. You believed in your decision.”

A shadow came over his face, and I instinctively leaned to place a kiss to the corner of his lips, dissipating that temporary darkness.

“The possibility that I could really lose you started solidifying in my head. And I just …” He shook his head. “God, it’s not the same, I know. But I finally got it. I understood how hard it’d hit him, losing Mom. How lost he must have been at the reality of not having a way to get her back. How many reckless decisions he must have taken. It did not justify that he pushed me away, but I am to blame too. I had been so lost in my own head that I let him do that. And then I allowed both of us to keep it on for years.”

“Neither of you is at fault, Aaron. We are not programmed to lose those we love; there’s no right or wrong way to grieve.” My hand trailed up his chest, my palm settling against his collarbone. “We just try our best, even when, often, our best is not good enough. Blaming yourself now is not going to change the past; it’s only going to take away energy that you should be spending in the present. And look where you are now; you are here. It’s not too late.”

He brushed a kiss over my head. “That day, when everything with Gerald went down, I got a call from the hospital. They told me that things didn’t look well for him. Apparently, my dad had asked for me. Several times. Demanded that I had to be contacted.” His voice trailed off, and I let my fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Letting him know I was here. Listening. Having his back. “It’s like everything lined up, and suddenly, not only did I understand him in a way I hadn’t before, but I also had this urge to see him. Not to apologize or to mend things between us, but to at least say good-bye. And I knew this was probably my last chance to do that.”

“Did you do that? Say good-bye?”

“The moment I got here, I went into his room with the intention to do that. Say good-bye, walk out, and just wait. But I … somehow ended up talking to him. Telling him everything I hadn’t said in all these years we were apart. He wasn’t conscious. I can’t be sure if he was even listening, but I just went on. I couldn’t stop. I talked and talked, Lina. Told him everything. I don’t even know how long I was there. And I don’t know if it was for nothing because maybe not a word was getting through to him, but I did it anyway.”

“You did good, amor.” I brushed my lips against the skin of his neck. “You did so good.”

Aaron melted a little more into me, into my touch. “They told me a few hours ago that he seems to be doing a bit better today. That he might get more time. They don’t know if it’s days, weeks, or months. But they are hopeful.” His chest deflated, the arms around me losing that desperate edge they’d had a while ago. “I am hopeful too.”

A voice coming from somewhere on the other side of the waiting room reached us. Bursting the bubble we had been in. “Mr. Blackford?”

We both turned and looked over. A nurse stood a few feet away, his smile trained to be polite and calming.

“Yes,” Aaron said, his back straightening in the chair.

“He’s finally awake. You can see him now.” The nurse slipped his hands in the pockets of his scrubs. “Only a few minutes, okay? He needs to rest.”

Disentangling my body from his, I placed both feet on the floor and stood in front of Aaron, making space for him to walk to the nurse. He followed suit, his head still turned toward the entrance of the waiting room.

“Okay, yeah,” he said almost absently. But before he even stepped away, he looked at me. “Come with me, please?”

My heart skipped a beat just then, the answer sounding loud and clear in my head. I’d go anywhere with you if you so much as asked. “Yes, of course I will.”

I didn’t wait for him to stretch out his hand and take mine. I did that myself. And I kept my hold tight and as reassuring as I possibly could as we followed the nurse to the room where Aaron’s dad waited. We stepped in, and I did not know what to expect. Perhaps I should have readied myself on the way to the room, and the realization that I hadn’t made a part of my bravado scatter away. This was the only living family Aaron had left, and I was about to meet him. And I … I suddenly tumbled a little under the importance of the moment. I wished it could have been under different circumstances, that there was more time, or that I was sure about what to say, how to handle this situation so everything went as well as it could.

But there wasn’t time. This was what we had. What Aaron and his dad had. And even if a little scared or uneasy, I was humbled that Aaron wanted to share it with me.

“There’s someone here to see you, Richard,” the nurse announced into the room and then looked over at us. His smile inched up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

Aaron took a step forward, and I remained a little behind him. Letting him have this moment to himself.

“Son,” the man perched on the bed said in a raspy voice.

I looked over at him and found the ghost of the features I knew so well. The hard jaw, the way both brows met, that intent and confidence about them. It was all there, although faded and worn.

“You are still here,” Aaron’s dad said. And I could hear the surprise in his tone.

“Dad,” I heard Aaron answer, and the grip of his hand on mine tightened. “Of course I’m still here. And there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Blue eyes that looked in our direction from the bed trailed behind Aaron with curiosity.

“Hi, Mr. Blackford.” I smiled at him, feeling Aaron’s hand leave mine and fall on my shoulders. “I’m Catalina, and I’m happy to finally meet you.”

Aaron’s dad didn’t return the smile, not completely. But his eyes told a different story. Just like I had seen his son do so many times. All under lock and key. “Call me Richard, please.” His gaze searched my face, something akin to wonder slowly seeping in. “Is this her, son?”

The question caught me by surprise, and so I glanced back at Aaron. I found him staring at his dad with a mirroring expression. Then, his profile softened.

“I wasn’t sure you were listening,” he said almost absently. Then, his arm brought me closer to him, as if tucking me into him were nothing more than a reflex. “Yes, this is her,” he answered louder, and my breath hitched in my chest. “The woman I told you all about.”

Aaron looked down at me, his eyes shining under the fluorescent light of the room.

“Your Thea,” I heard Richard say, emotion coating his voice.

Thea. That had been his wife’s name. Aaron’s mom.

I peered in his direction, finding that smile he had hidden earlier. It was small and weak, but it was enough to make mine break free in return.

“Hold on to her, son. For as long as time lets you.”

“I will.” Aaron’s words brushed the skin on my temple.

I looked up at him, finding those blue eyes smiling down at me with a devotion I had never experienced or imagined being on the receiving end of. With a warmth that I could feel right in the middle of my chest, pounding and expanding with every passing second I spent under his gaze, by his side. Aaron looked at me with a world of possibilities shining bright and dazzling in his eyes. A promise.

“This is the woman I plan on spending the rest of my life with. I’m not letting go of her anytime soon.”

“Catalina.” The deep voice that had lured me to sleep and ignited every cell in my body countless times in the last twelve months reached my ears.

My pen dropped from my mouth, smacking the glossy surface of the oak conference table.

“Catalina, I’m going to need an answer.”

My back straightened in my chair, my gaze meeting a pair of blue eyes as I cleared my throat. Shit. I totally spaced out. “Yes, yes—ahem. An answer. Coming right up, Mr. Blackford,” I rushed out. “Just mentally recapping.”

I watched the corner of his lips tip up, his eyes simmering with an emotion I was more than familiar with. My heart skipped a beat. Because, apparently, I’d never not react to this man’s smile. No matter how small it was.

“Rosie, if you could maybe assist Catalina as she mentally recaps,” he said, cocking a brow. “We all have places to be, and I’d appreciate being through with this meeting in the next five minutes.”

“Of course,” my best friend and new team leader of our division agreed from my right. “I’m sure Lina was being very thorough with the notes she was taking.”

The spanish love deception

And when my heart resumed, I wasn’t relieved. I simply couldn’t be when it started thrashing against the cavity of my chest with a wildness I had never experienced.

Some people claimed that the most beautiful thing anyone had ever done for them was writing them a poem, composing a song, or confessing their undying love in an epic gesture. But right then, as I was cocooned in Aaron’s long legs, his fingers delicately massaging my neck simply because I’d looked tense, I realized I didn’t need or want any of that. If I never got my epic declaration, I’d be fine. Because his words were, without a doubt in my mind, the most beautiful thing I would ever hear said about me. To me. And for me.

I’d … dammit. This man. He kept showing me how perfect he was. Kept unveiling all these beautiful parts of him that made me giddy and dizzy and hungry for more.

But I still felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at an ocean that whirled in the same deep blue that colored his eyes. Would I dare to jump?

“I fell in love with Daniel in my second year in college,” I said without turning. Not daring to free-fall. Not completely. “I was nineteen. He was my Physics professor. He was younger than any other member of the faculty, so he stood out. Was popular among the body of students—the female section of it particularly. At first, it was a dumb crush. I’d anticipate his lectures. I’d maybe put a little extra care into what I wore and sit in the first row. But I wasn’t the only one. Pretty much every other girl—and a few of the guys—had been charmed by the dimple in his cheek and the confidence with which he strolled across the room. Even when his course was one of the hardest we’d ever had to study for.”

Aaron continued working the tension out of the muscles that corded along my neck and shoulders. He remained quiet, and it felt almost as if—except for his fingers—he had grown still too.

So, I continued, “Imagine my surprise when I started noticing that his gaze would rest on me for a moment, just a little longer than on anybody else. Or that his dimple would come out a little more often when it was me he was watching.” My eyes closed as Aaron’s hands drifted lower, traveling down my spine.

“Throughout that year, it all built up to a point where we would sneak a few innocent touches in between classes or during tutoring sessions. It was so … exciting. Exhilarating almost. He made me feel special, like I wasn’t one more of the students pining for him.” I heard my voice drifting lower, lost in the memory, so I tried to bring my tone back up.

“Anyway, we didn’t start dating until the moment I was through with the two semesters his course lasted. Officially, publicly dating. Not on campus or anything like that, but we’d go out like any other couple. He introduced Gonzalo and Isabel, and they fell desperately in love in the span of a heated look.”

A real smile tugged my lips up at the thought of the moment Isabel and Gonzalo had locked eyes; it had seemed as if they had been waiting for that to happen. As if they had unknowingly been waiting for the other.

Aaron’s legs shifted, cocooning me further into his lap. Or perhaps it was me who kept bending into him. I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t complain or move away.

“And I was in love too. After one year of daydreaming about something I couldn’t have, hoping for it, I was blinded by the joy at finally being able to have him. To call him mine.”

His fingers stopped briefly, as if they hesitated their next move. Then, they resumed and continued kneading at my shoulders.

I heard Aaron’s exhale. Felt it on the back of my neck. His fingers tensing and halting very briefly.

“It was all so hurtful.” My voice sounded different—void and bitter. And it reminded me of a Lina I didn’t want to remember. Or ever be again. “The things that were said about me quickly turned into pointed fingers and into disgusting photos that someone had Photoshopped with my face. Into … really ugly stuff.”

Aaron’s touch turned into just brushes of his skin against mine, soothing me, moving me forward, telling me, I’m here. I got you.

“It was all turned into this despicable tale, where I was the cunning, dirty woman who seduced professors for grades. All the hard work and the long nights I had studied were brought down simply because … I don’t know. To this day, I don’t know the reason or the motivation. Jealousy? A laugh? But I know that if I had been one of my male classmates and Daniel had been a female professor, perhaps I wouldn’t have gone through that. It would have been the professor. She would have been accused of being a cougar, and the student would have gotten a few high fives. Instead, I was almost harassed into dropping out. I didn’t want to attend any lectures. I didn’t want to leave the house. I was still living with my parents because I could drive to campus from their house, and I didn’t even want to talk to them. I deleted my profiles on all of the social media sites. I closed myself off from every single person in my life, even my sister and even those few who had remained my friends.” I focused on the soothing circles Aaron was drawing on my skin, grounding and rooting me to him and to the present. “It was all too much. I just felt … ashamed. Worthless. I felt like everything I had done was worth nothing. Consequently, when my grades and performance sank, my average went down the drain. And I didn’t even care.”

A beat of silence that seemed to stretch too long made me realize Aaron hadn’t spoken a word. I knew he wouldn’t judge me, but I wondered what he thought. If the way he saw me had now changed.

“What did he do?” he finally said. His voice sounded rocky, rough. “What did Daniel do about everything that was being done to you?”

“Well, things started looking a little bad for him. There was no rule that stopped him from dating a former student. But everything that was going down got to be too much for him.”

“For him?” he repeated, a new edge to his voice.

“Yeah. And so, he broke things off, told me it was too complicated and relationships shouldn’t be that hard or messy.”

Aaron’s fingers halted, not moving any longer. Simply hovering above my skin.

“He thought that we weren’t supposed to make each other trip and fall and that the moment we did, then it didn’t make sense to be together. And I … I think he was right. I guess he was.”

Aaron didn’t say anything. Not a word left his lips, but I could tell there was something wrong with him. I could feel it in the way his breath had quickened, deepened. And the way his hands remained frozen above my shoulders.

“I often wonder how I managed to graduate, but I did. At some point after the breakup, I woke up. Showed up to the exams and passed. Then, I somehow put together an application for an international master’s program and left for the US.”

Aaron’s palms resumed. Very gently, but I felt them move along my shoulders. Nothing like before, but at least he was touching me again. And I needed that, more than I cared to admit.

“I wasn’t escaping him, you know? Everybody thought I was, but I wasn’t. Daniel had bruised my heart, but I wasn’t running away from that. It was everything else. Everybody looked at me differently. Like I had changed or something had changed in the way they saw me. As if I were this broken thing now. Dropped by Daniel, harassed, made fun of. Everybody whispered, Oh, poor t
hing. How is she going to bounce back from this? They treated me as damaged goods. They still do. Every time I came back home alone, they look at me with pity. Every time I said I’m still single, they nod and smile sadly.” Shaking my head, I released all the air in my lungs. “I hate it, Aaron.” I could hear the emotion in my voice choking my words because I did hate it. “That’s why I came back as little as I did.”

But then I also hated how much I feared that a part of it was perhaps true. Why hadn’t I been able to trust anybody with my heart otherwise?

“Everything that had happened hurt me, left a scar, but it didn’t break me.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, wanting to believe my own words. “It didn’t.”

A sound, deep and husky and pained, came from behind me. Before I knew what was happening, Aaron’s arms came around my shoulders, and I was engulfed by him. Wrapped into his chest. Warm and hard and safe and … a lot less alone. A lot more complete than I had been seconds before.

Aaron buried his head in the nook of my neck from behind, and I felt the urge to comfort him. So, I did.

“I’m not broken, Aaron,” I told him in a whisper, although perhaps it was for my own reassurance. “I can’t be.”

“You are not,” he said on my skin. Tightening his hold on me. Bringing me closer. “And I know that even if something did break you—because that’s life and no one is invincible—you’d still put the pieces back together and remain the brightest thing I’d ever seen.”

My hands went around that pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders, which pulled me into his chest, as if he were scared I’d go up in smoke if he didn’t. And I hung on to him equally desperately. As if my next breath depended on it.

We remained that way for a long while. And slowly, very slowly, our bodies relaxed into each other. They melted together. I focused on Aaron’s breath, on the earnestness of the moment, on his heartbeat against my back, his strength. On all the things that he’d kept handing to me so freely, like they were nothing. Like he was supposed to give them away and I was entitled to take them from him.

Neither of us said anything as time stretched, our holds gradually loosening as we lost the battle to sleep.

My eyelids eventually fluttered shut, but right before darkness engulfed me, I thought I heard Aaron whisper, “You feel complete in my arms. You feel like my home.”

What an idiot I had been.

A big, dumb, foolish idiot.

Earlier that morning, when my alarm had gone off a little after dawn and I had slipped out of Aaron’s warm embrace quietly—but not panic-ridden—I had immediately regretted agreeing to meet my sister hours before the wedding. So, once I got everything packed and was ready to go, right before sneaking out the door without waking him up—even though I had learned by then that he, too, slept like the dead—I leaned very silently and brushed a soft kiss against his jaw. Because I didn’t want to go, not really, and I was a weak, weak woman when it came to him.

Just in case, I left Aaron a note, telling him that I’d see him in a few hours because I’d be getting ready with Isabel. Charo would be driving him to the wedding venue.

Be strong and don’t succumb, I wrote down.

Then, I signed it with, With love, Lina.

My choice of words had my heart skipping a beat, but I promised myself it wasn’t a big deal and left it there.

Not more than an hour after leaving the apartment, I started to miss him—like properly brooding and sighing and wondering what he was doing—so I texted him.

Lina: Did you get my note?

To which, he replied no more than a couple of minutes later.

Aaron: Yes, I’m hiding in the bathroom. Charo was trying to sneak a photo of me with her phone. Martíns are relentless creatures.

That had me snorting so hard that the makeup artist ended up brushing eye shadow all across my forehead. She tried to play it cool, but I could tell she was pissed.

But none of that was the reason why I was pretty sure I was a big, dumb, foolish idiot.

Somehow, somewhere between slipping into my velvety fawn heels and the graceful, airy burgundy gown I was wearing, my head had started spinning questions. Important ones. Will I be able to find Aaron in the crowd? And also: Will he be okay? Will he get to the venue and find his seat? And the star of the show: Maybe I won’t see him until after the ceremony. What if I can’t find him?

So, when I came to my place to the right of the bride, on a glorious summer day, surrounded by arrangements of peonies in all shades of baby pink and pearly white, in front of the people who had seen us grow and turn into the women we were today, my head turned.

My gaze effortlessly zeroed in on a pair of ocean-blue eyes.

And all those questions immediately died out.

What a big, dumb, foolish idiot I had been to even question that my eyes wouldn’t be drawn to Aaron Blackford in a matter of seconds. How in the world could they not?

He was dazzling, standing under the sun in a navy-blue suit. And when he smiled, that wide and furtive grin that I was beginning to think was only for me, I swore he could have blinded me if I hadn’t blinked. That smile—Aaron’s smile, his handsome face, him completely and entirely—made my knees weak and my chest tight.

That was exactly why, once the ceremony ended and Gonzalo made a show out of eating Isabel’s face right then and there for everybody attending to see, I turned around on shaky legs. The crowd proceeded to throw rice and confetti as the bride and groom made their way down the aisle, and by the time they were jumping inside a yellow Volkswagen Beetle to drive to where they’d have a pre-dinner photo shoot, everybody started shuffling to the restaurant area. A quiet silence was left behind, except for the sound of my heart, which was trying to stumble right out of my throat.

Aaron waited by the exit, standing with his hands in the pockets of his navy pants and his jacket partly opened. Right where the rows of creamy chairs ended. A few tiny pieces of confetti stuck in his hair.

His gaze stayed on me as I walked down that aisle, my legs feeling like I was walking on sand. Heavy and clumsy.

Only when I reached him did he take a step toward me; it was fast and rushed, as if he had been stopping himself from running to me and couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I watched his throat work, his eyes swiping up and down and up again, eating up what was in front of them.

“You look like a dream.”

What a silly thing to tell me when it was him, the one who couldn’t be real. The one I couldn’t believe was here, making my chest full with things I didn’t understand.

I shook my head, trying to pull myself together enough to answer. “You look amazing, Aaron.”

His gaze searched my face for a brief moment, and whatever he found made him smile. Again, that grin. Only for me. What a lucky bitch I was.

Aaron offered his arm, and I struggled not to launch myself at him right then and there. “May I have the honor?” he asked slowly.

A deep belly laugh left my lips. Slowly, I took it. “Now, you are just pushing it.”

His palm fell on top of the one that was resting on the crook of his arm. “What do you mean?”

“Only romance heroes say stuff like that. And we are talking about the ones in a Jane Austen novel. Not even your run-of-the-mill romance hero would butter up a woman that much,” I explained as we moved forward, in the direction of the adjoining restaurant, where everybody else was, probably a glass of wine—or two—already in hand.

“In my book, having the most beautiful woman on my arm classifies as an honor.”

I hoped the foundation the makeup artist had had to apply for a second time covered the way my cheeks flushed. “If the bride so much as gets wind of what you are saying, you’ll be in so much trouble.” I heard his chuckle, but he didn’t retract his words. “She’ll kick you out of the wedding, and I will not be able to help you. You are too tall and big to sneak in, unnoticed.” And too damn handsome to
o, but I kept that part to myself.

Aaron chuckled again, the noise traveling down my spine and leaving a trail of shivers. I was finding it really hard to ignore how good his arm felt under my fingers or how right being tucked in his side was.

It was only when we were a few feet away from the open area, where all the invitees were gathered, that Aaron spoke, “It would be worth it, you know.”

My head turned, taking in his profile as he kept his gaze up front.

“For seeing you in that dress and having you enter any place on my arm, I’d endure pretty much anything.”

My lips parted, and had Aaron not been providing his support, I would have tumbled down to the floor, rolled the rest of the way, and probably stopped only when my back came against a chair or a table.

“Even your sister’s rage.”

Then, a flash went off right in our faces, snapping me out of my trance.

Blinking away the bright white spots, I got a glimpse of a camera.

“Maravilloso!” a high-pitched voice I was well acquainted with screeched. “What a beautiful couple you two make.”

My mouth snapped shut and then opened again. Not having my sight back completely, I kept blinking until a bright red mane started coming into focus. Charo.

“Oh, your babies are going to be the cutest things ever.”

I cursed under my breath and smiled tightly while Aaron seemed surprisingly unconcerned. The dumbest mental image took me by surprise. One of Aaron holding a chubby, blue-eyed baby in his large arms.

Stepping out of my cousin’s trajectory and veering for the wine, I tried to recompose myself.

“And so it begins,” I muttered under my breath. The day I had feared and dreaded for months.

The Spanish Love Deception

(Spanish Love Deception #1)

She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool.

The spanish love deception

And I didn’t think I wanted to.

Not after having a taste of what could be mine. And I wasn’t talking just about Aaron’s lips. For the first time since we had landed in Spain, every touch, look, smile, or word was real. After that kiss, every time Aaron grazed my arm with the back of his hand, it was because he wanted to. Every time he brushed a kiss on my shoulder, it was because he wasn’t capable of helping himself. And every time he gathered me close and whispered something in my ear, it wasn’t because my family was looking and we had a role to play. It was because he wanted me to hear how beautiful he thought I looked and how lucky he felt to have me in his arms.

We danced for hours, this time with nothing hanging over our heads, and I kissed that smile that was only for me. More than once. I simply couldn’t help myself.

Tonight, I had decided I’d stay in our bubble and deal with what awaited in New York when we got there. Tonight was ours.

Aaron closed the door of the room behind him, and I couldn’t help but stare at him from my position at the end of the bed. We had just gotten to the apartment, and I had decided to give a rest to my wobbly legs and hurting feet while he fetched some water from the kitchen.

One of his arms was behind his back, making me tilt my head with curiosity. He smiled, and when he revealed what was in his hand, I almost screamed at him to stop going after my poor, weak heart. Because it wouldn’t survive.

A doughnut, glazed and filled with chocolate cream. They had served them as a snack late in the night. And I had probably eaten more than I should have.

“Aaron Blackford,” I said, feeling as if something were being squashed in the middle of my chest. “Did you smuggle doughnuts out of the wedding in your pocket?”

His smile turned into a grin. A bashfully, unassumingly handsome grin. And my poor heart squeezed some more. “I knew you’d be hungry.”

“I am,” I admitted, my voice sounding all wrong. “Thank you.”

He strode across the room and placed the doughnut on a napkin on top of the dresser. I took the chance to tell my heart to chill the hell out before it was too late and we both went down.

Aaron turned, as if he knew I needed one more minute to gather myself. But instead of doing that, I gawked at his back. Watched how he shed himself of his suit jacket and delicately placed it on the only chair in the room. Dangerous thoughts started piling up in my head, traveling to the bottom of my stomach. When Aaron finally faced me, just as he was undoing the knot of his tie, those dangerous, reckless thoughts were probably displayed all over my face.

Our gazes connected, and an uncontrollable blush rose up my neck, reaching my cheeks. Ironic, how I had been devouring his lips hours ago, and now, a simple look turned me inside out.

Restless and flushed, I averted my gaze and leaned, reaching for my right foot. My fingers were clumsy as they worked at the strap of the beautiful yet painful high-heeled shoe. Exhaling with frustration, I fumbled with the thin band tied around my ankle for an embarrassing amount of time.

I sensed Aaron coming closer, right to where I was, sitting on the bed as I unsuccessfully tried to untie the clasps of my right heel. If he found my predicament funny or ridiculous, he didn’t say. Instead, he knelt on the floor in front of me and placed his palm over my hands, bringing my attempts to a halt.

“Let me,” he said. “Please.”

I did. I was beginning to understand that I’d let him do about anything if he asked.

Aaron’s strong fingers unclasped the fine straps and slowly slipped the shoe off. Killing me with a tenderness I would never—not in a lifetime—have enough of. His hand captured my foot, placing it on top of his thigh. Only that gesture, the contact of my sole on his leg, had the power to undo me.

And it did. It cracked me wide open as Aaron’s fingers slid to my ankle, kneading and easing the tension away as they went, robbing me of my breath.

Those hands. What those hands could do to me if the simplicity of what he was doing sent bolts of electricity up my legs, straight to that neglected point low in my belly.

The enemy that my own mind could sometimes be decided that this was a good moment to remind me that it had been a long time since I had been intimate with someone. And Aaron … well, one just needed to take a look at him to know that he probably had more experience than me. Anybody would. I had barely dated after Daniel and—

“Relax.” A deep voice jerked me back to the moment. Aaron’s fingers were still delicately rubbing my right ankle, softening the stiff muscles. “I don’t expect a single thing from you tonight, Catalina.” He looked up at me, our gazes meeting. There was only earnestness in the blue of his eyes. “Earlier, when I kissed you, I let myself get carried away. Came on a little too strong, and I apologize.”

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

“You have to say something, baby. You are very quiet, and that’s starting to freak me out.”

Baby. That baby did things to me. I liked it. Far too much.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I tried really hard to swallow all those stupid insecurities. “So, don’t apologize, please.” I looked into his eyes. “You were perfect. You … really are.”

That last part left my lips as nothing more than a whisper.

The blue in Aaron’s eyes simmered, darkened with determination. It did for a moment that stretched and stretched until he cleared his throat and resumed his work.

Turning to my other foot, he repeated the process, leaving the left stiletto where the other one rested on the floor. He massaged my left heel, his fingertips making their way up my ankle too. And only after he finished kneading the muscles and tendons there, he spoke, “All set. Let’s get you out of that dress, and you’ll be ready for bed.”

And that was what did it.

His unassuming words, the tenderness with which he had bared my feet and the way he looked up at me from his position on the floor, as if his only goal here was making sure I was cared for. All of it broke something inside of me.

I swore I even heard the cracking sound, slicing the silence in the room in two.

His back straightened, his gaze rising until eye-level with me.

“Then, tell me.” His jaw hardened. “Tell me what you want.”

Instead of voicing it, I reached out and placed my hand on the nape of his neck. I pulled, attempting to bring him closer. And Aaron let me, allowing me to show him where I needed him. Our faces were mere inches away. My memory of the taste of his lips was almost too powerful for me to resist him any longer.

Still on his knees, Aaron inched closer. Placing his torso between my thighs and his hands on each of my sides. Right next to my hips.

I could hear the need in his voice. I could almost taste it.

Unable to stop myself, my fingertips pulled at the strands of raven hair at his neck. You, I told him with that tug, incapable to articulate a word.

“I need to hear you say it,” he breathed into my lips. Not closing the gap, still not sealing it.

My other hand landed on his upper arm, and I noticed immediately how those toned muscles bunched beneath the fabric of his shirt, constrained. As if he was physically stopping himself from coming closer. My gaze traveled down his arm, all the way to his hand, discovering he was fisting the comforter right beside my hip.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated, his voice almost breaking.

“You,” I rasped out, a dam breaking. “I want anything you’re willing to give me.” I needed him to inch closer, to eat the space between us and make it disappear. To come on top of me until blurring the outlines of our bodies. “It’s you I want.”

Never in my life had I imagined breathless words like mine would be the key to something so powerful. A growl escaped Aaron’s body, his eyes turning feral. Hunger like I had never witnessed—not even earlier, when we had kissed—burrowed itself in Aaron’s features, giving way to a pained expression.

And then my world exploded. Aaron’s mouth was against mine, nothing soft about the branding contact. He parted my lips, his tongue plunging inside, while his hands slowly trailed up my back.

He pulled me to him, leaving my ass resting on the edge of the bed. My legs went around his waist, a little too high to make the contact I craved the most—that I knew would make me see those stars he had just promised me.

My head spun out of control, the feel of his strong body between my thighs overwhelming, intoxicating, provoking. I wanted to stay right here forever—with Aaron on his knees and my body wrapped around him. With his lips against mine. His hands in my hair.

No. I wanted more than that, but I needed all these clothes to go away first.

Aaron pulled me closer into his chest, making my body churn, looking for the friction I ached for.

Without breaking the kiss or his hold on my body, he stood up on strong legs, taking me up with him. Holding my legs around his waist, he positioned me exactly where I was coming out of my skin for him to be, sending a twirl of pleasure through every cell in my body at the maddening sensation of having his hardness nestled between my thighs. The warmth of his hands on my ass seeped through the clothing of my dress, the heat of his length throbbing against my center. Hot, so hot that my skin burned.

In two strides, Aaron had me against the wall. He rocked against my center, just once, and it ripped a pained whimper out of me.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he gritted out against my lips, his body stiff and rocklike beneath my hands. “Tell me what’s okay for me to do.”

Pushing his hips into me to hold me against the wall and bringing to my sight a starry sky of delirium, he dragged his hands up my sides. Stopping when he reached the swell of my breasts, his long fingers grazed the thin cloth covering them.

“Does this feel good, baby?” he rasped.

Nodding my head, I arched my back, pushing them against his hands. Hands that didn’t waste a second in accepting my offering. Aaron kneaded my breasts leisurely, his thumb grazing over the fabric that covered my nipples. That urge of shredding my dress off my body returned with a vengeance. And I had to physically fight my hands from exposing my skin, so he’d touch me. Not the stupid gown. Me, me. Just me.

As if he had just read my mind, Aaron’s hands flew to my shoulders. He took ahold of the straps of my dress, playing delicately with the fine material before asking, “Can I bring these down?”

His watchfulness, his never-ending diligence at making sure I was comfortable, kept tearing at something inside my chest—something I was afraid that once brought down, wouldn’t crystallize back into the same ever again.

“Yes,” I told him. Hearing the urgency in my voice.

Catching me completely off guard, instead of bringing the straps down, Aaron’s hands slid to my waist, dislodging me from his body. He deposited me on the floor, and my fingertips drifted from his neck to his chest at the difference in height.

Frowning at the loss, I looked up. Aaron’s soft chuckle and radiant smile barely registered when those two large palms that rested on my hips turned me around. Briskly.

My hands fell flat on the wall.

His breath caressed the back of my neck, launching a riot of shivers to gallop down my body. Strong fingers reached for the zipper of my dress, just above the small of my back. He brought it down, my underwear peeking out, if I recalled correctly how low that zipper went.

I felt myself swallow, just as I heard a strangled sound leaving Aaron.

His fingers slowly trailed up my spine, a flock of tingles taking flight. When he reached the straps at my shoulders, he pulled them down. The dress slid down my body and pooled on the floor, leaving me in nothing but my panties. And, God, I had never been happier about wearing a dress with a built-in bra.

Looking over my shoulder at him, I found a troubled expression marring his handsome face. Unconsciously, my body tried to turn, but Aaron’s arms came around me. One hand landed on my stomach while the other went to my hip. He pulled me into him, the heat of his whole body on my bare back, overrunning my senses.

His chin dipped, falling on my shoulder. “Give me a minute,” he breathed into my ear.

After a few seconds of neither of us moving an inch, just taking it all in, I felt his lips on my neck.

“I’m trying to take this slow, Lina. I swear I am,” he continued, his hand drifting up my stomach. His thumb grazed the skin of my breast. “But you are driving me right out of my mind.”

That fingertip brushed over my nipple, eliciting a deep moan out of me. Earning me one of his in return. The hand that rested on my hip slid down to my thigh, close to the edge of my panties. Just a few inches from the point where all this heat running through my body gathered.

“I’m dying to learn every inch of skin on your body.” He took my nipple between his index and thumb and pulled softly.

I whimpered, demolished. Devastated.

“To memorize you.” His voice danced with the same desperation rushing down my belly. “Do you want that?”

“Yes.” My voice sounded brittle, just as much as my sanity if he denied me. “I need you to touch me.”

Aaron grumbled, his chest rumbling with the sound. My hands flew back, landing on his shoulders and arching my body for his taking.

His arm pulled me closer, my backside flush against him.

He rocked his hips, and then his hand trailed up and down my thigh. “Open up for me,” he demanded into my neck while pushing my legs open with his knee from behind, widening my stance so it granted him easier access. “Let’s finally see how wet you are.”

His fingers snuck under the edge of my panties, grazing the hair and skin there and making my legs wobble at the pleasure of the powerful contact. Aaron’s hold on my hip tightened, pulling my back against his hard length, and I felt it pulsating against my skin, even through the fabric of his pants. Continuing his path, his fingers finally reached my wet folds, pressing for just an instant and then gliding down slowly.

My lips parted as a moan climbed out of my body. I hadn’t been this wet or turned on in my entire life.

“Fuck.” Aaron’s curse wasn’t more than a rasp. “Is this all for me?”

If I’d managed to whimper an affirmative reply, I couldn’t know. I just guessed that whatever my answer had been, it satisfied Aaron. Because his fingers moved up and down my folds, coating everything in my pleasure, turning my blood into molten lava.

“If I slide my fingers inside your pussy, I’m going to lose control,” he told me in a deep and inky voice. A warning, a promise. “Is that something you are ready for?” His thumb started circling my clit, almost bringing me to my knees.

My back arched. “Aaron.”

His voice lowered even further. “That’s not an answer, baby.” His fingers increased their pace, making me light-headed. “Do you want me to get you off and hold you until you fall asleep?” His other hand rose to my breast, teasing my nipple. “Or do you want me to claim it with my cock?”

For what I would soon learn was the last time tonight, I told him what he’d demanded to hear. The truth that I had kept under key deep inside. “I’m ready, Aaron.” I brought my hand to his, which was partly covered by my panties. “Take me. All of me.” I tightened my hold on him and pressed both our hands against my center. “Claim me.”

Aaron didn’t lose any time. One of his fingers slid inside me in one swift motion, a moan forming in the depths of my chest at the blissful invasion.

God. It had been so long since nothing but my own fingers had been there.

“You are drenched, baby. All for me.” Aaron kept thrusting inside, adding a second fi
nger and bringing bright little spots to the backs of my eyes. “All of you, mine.”

Something started unraveling, cracking me wide open. Tilting my body toward the edge. “Aaron. This … this is too much.”

Panting. I was panting as I lost control over my own body.

“It’s not too much. This is what real feels like,” he murmured against my neck as his other hand grazed one of my breasts.

I was so close to toppling over. A million different sorts of sensations cascaded down my body, spreading from every point where Aaron was touching me. Tattooing my skin. The way he thrust his fingers inside of me. Or how he played with the tips of my breasts. The rocking of his hips against my backside, in sync with the plunging of his hand. It was all too much. Too much.

“That’s it. I can feel your pussy gripping my fingers.” His words pushed me a little closer to the edge. Every single second of this blissful torture blinding me with more pleasure. “Ride them, baby. Come on them.”

And I did. Oh God, I did. I tipped over the edge. My head went spinning; my limbs were robbed of all strength. And while I moaned and whimpered senseless words mixed with Aaron’s name, his fingers kept driving inside of me. Dragging it out, walking me through it, until eventually slowing down and coming to a stop over my still-pulsating center.

After what could have been a couple of seconds or a few minutes, Aaron extricated his fingers from me. Tipping my head to the side, I looked up because I wanted to see his face. His handsome face and ocean-blue eyes. I found him gazing down at me with a smile that was new. It was one that I had never seen. One mixed with hunger and need and something else. Something more powerful than all that.

As I eyed him, probably with a spent and blissful look on my face, I watched how he lifted the fingers that had been inside of me moments ago and introduced them inside his mouth. His eyes closed, and his face contorted into an expression I would never forget. An expression that would be branded in my mind for the rest of my goddamn life and that would haunt me in the wet dreams I’d start having now.

The spanish love deception

His lips fell on my skin once more, resuming where they had stopped. His mouth skimmed along my jaw, and my heart seemed to come back alive in my chest, making me realize I hadn’t really noticed how it had ceased to beat without his touch.

“I don’t think I’d be able to deny you a single thing if you asked, Catalina.”

He followed that with one openmouthed kiss against the side of my neck, almost ripping a whimper out of me.

My eyelids must have fluttered because Aaron said, “No. Don’t open them yet.”

And I didn’t. I couldn’t. Aaron was in absolute control of my body now.

“Good girl. Keep them closed.” He brushed another openmouthed kiss as a reward. “We’ll play this game a little longer.”

My stomach plummeted to my feet in response.

“For practice purposes,” he said, and the hand that was cupping my head started trailing down, down, down over my clothes, stopping on my waist and leaving a burning path behind. It sent my head spinning. “I can show you exactly what it would be like.”

I felt him fisting the fabric of my shirt, as if he was stopping himself from doing more. Then releasing it and returning his palm to my waist.

“If you were really mine, I’d do this all the time.” His long fingers draped around my hip and pushed me against him from the waist down. Hot—he felt so hot and hard, branding my skin, even with layers of fabric separating us.

“If you were mine, you’d crave this.” He then closed the rest of the distance that separated us very slowly. Bringing our bodies flush together with such softness and at such a painful pace that I praised and cursed him at the same time. “You’d welcome this. You would want it.”

And wasn’t I doing all those things?

Before I could delve into that, Aaron’s large body shifted, and my back was against a hard surface. My hand traveled across it absently. The wardrobe. He was caging me against what felt like the wardrobe door, and I didn’t know how we had ended up there. Not really. But he was pressing deliciously into me, sheltering me from the world around us. Like the human-sized shield he had shown me he could be for me. Rooting me to the ground and sending my senses flying all at once. So, I didn’t care. Instead, my body craved more contact. It throbbed for more.

“If I were yours, I would not be capable of functioning without touching you.” His words made something in my chest constrict. “I couldn’t go a few minutes without doing this,” he added, squeezing my waist with his hand and slipping his thumb below my sleeping shirt, robbing me of the following breath. “Or something like this.” Aaron stepped further into me, pressing his hips against mine.

A helpless whimper left me.

The runaway thumb that had snuck below the fabric of my shirt trailed a few inches up my side, rumpling my shirt on its way.

A very shaky exhale escaped my lips. I couldn’t do much more than that, hardly breathing, barely surviving until the next touch. Every nerve in my body felt like it was about to be lit on fire. My blood boiled, burning every vessel and organ in its path. Everything burned.

I thought a new whimper had escaped away from me because I was rewarded with another openmouthed kiss. This time on my temple. Then, Aaron’s lips traveled down the side of my face, the air leaving them warm and enticing.

He continued down, stopping at my nose and repeating the soft caress.

Then, he did it to my right cheek. My left cheek. My chin.

Aaron left soft kisses everywhere he stopped, turning me inside out.

Pure, unfiltered need pulsated through my body with every inch of skin his lips traveled. And when they reached the corner of my mouth, I felt like I would detonate like a bomb if he didn’t touch me there too. If he didn’t brush his lips over mine and kiss me.

I felt the large and masculine body that pressed against me sigh. His lips hovering above mine.

Breaking my restraint, my hand lifted and landed on his upper arm, which I discovered was braced against the wardrobe surface, right next to my head. Barely able to take ahold of his flexed biceps, I wrapped my fingers as well as I could around the hot and tense skin. Everything strained and tightened under my touch. And I wondered if he was holding himself back, holding back from wrapping both arms around me and lifting me in the air. Perhaps pressing me harder into his body. Or doing more than just leaving featherlight kisses and soft brushes of his fingers.

Unsure if what he needed was my encouragement, I increased the pressure of my hold on his arm. My nails dug into his skin.

A deep and throaty sound left Aaron’s mouth, landing right between my legs. Just where all the ever-growing need had gathered.

I latched on to his arm harder, my body arching into him unconsciously, barely able to contain myself any longer. I was very close to begging, and I would if I had to. In response, Aaron came a little closer. Pressed against me a little harder.

I could feel him throbbing against my belly.

“Lina.” My name left his lips like a soft prayer. Or a warning. I wasn’t sure. “I’m going to kiss you.”

His words fell on my lips, close, so close. So, I was left with no option but to increase the pressure of my fingers around his arm, so I wouldn’t dissolve right there. To slip away and disappear before I could touch him. And I wanted to so badly. His neck, his lips, his jaw, the little wrinkle between his brows—everything. I wanted to slip my fingers through his raven hair and run them down his chest, all the way to his thick thighs.

I wanted Aaron to deliver his promise. I wanted him to kiss me.

Another brief touch of his lips, this time against mine. Soft, full, sweet, just like honey running down my mouth. I wanted—no, I needed—more.

A door slamming shut somewhere in the apartment startled the plea out of my lips. Aaron’s mouth pulled back from mine before I even properly tasted him, my eyes falling back open.

I was welcomed by the image of a man on the brink of losing control. His gaze was hazy, clouded by the same need that was pumping through my bloodstream.

Aaron’s forehead fell on mine. I watched his chest heave, hauling air in and out of his lungs with effort. Just like mine was doing. And we remained in silence for a long moment, surrounded by only the sound of our wild and unrestrained breathing.

“You called me Lina.” Out of everything that had just happened, that was what my foggy brain decided to go with. “You never do. You only have once.”

Still resting on my forehead, Aaron’s head shook against mine. Very briefly. Then, a breathy laugh reached my ears. It made me smile.

But that part of my brain that was supposed to work out all the rational reasoning came back to life, wiping that smile off my face.

Holy shit. We almost kissed.

Aaron had warned me he’d kiss me, and then he almost had. The man whose arms and body were currently caging me against a wardrobe had tortured me with his fingertips, his mouth, and then he had almost kissed me. Right after he called me Lina. But—

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “What the hell was that noise?”

Aaron lifted his head slightly, just enough for me to be able to watch how his eyes traveled across my face, bouncing from every spot he had brushed his lips over to the next, as if he couldn’t decide where to set camp. Eventually stopping at my lips. Something that looked a lot like pain flashed across his expression. “Your cousin, I hope.”

Of course. That … made sense.

Aaron sobered up slowly, his expression eventually going back to normal. “I’ll go check,” he announced before ripping himself off me.

My body grieved the loss almost immediately, feeling cold and unbalanced without him.

Willing my legs
to remain strong, I limited myself to following Aaron’s march to the door, feeling numb and all over the place. He looked back at me right before he opened it.

“Catalina.” There it was again. Not Lina. Catalina. “I’m glad I didn’t kiss you.”

Something halted in my chest.

“Why?” The word was nothing more than a shaky whisper.

“Because when I finally take those lips in mine, it will be the furthest thing from pretending. I will not be showing you what it would be like if you were mine. I’ll show you what it is. And I sure as hell won’t be showing how good I could make you feel if you called me yours. You’ll already know that I am.”

He paused, and I swore I could see the restraint in his posture. As if he was stopping himself from pouncing and returning us to our former position, right against the hard surface of the wardrobe door.

“When I finally kiss you, there won’t be any doubt in your mind that it is real.”

The moment my eyes popped open to the glorious darkness that only a country where blinds were religiously installed could provide, I knew I wasn’t in my bed.

For one, I was used to waking up to bright beams of sunlight flooding my studio apartment. Then, there was the surface beneath me. It felt different. Softer and bouncier than the one my body was accustomed to. Same went for the pillow where my head rested—too flat and low.

But what really screamed at me that this wasn’t my bed—that I wasn’t in my apartment in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn—was the dead weight currently resting on my waist. It was heavy and warm and felt a lot like an oversize limb that surely couldn’t belong to me.

The drumming occurring in almost every corner of my head was probably not helping me get any clarity on what was responsible for that vise around my body. Or why I wasn’t in the comfort of my room, rolling in a mattress that had made it worth punching a hole in my bank account.

Blinking a few times as I brushed some of the sleepy locks of hair off my face, my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

My gaze searched for whatever was behind the weight on my midsection.

An arm. Just how I had suspected. It was dusted with dark hair and corded with muscle. So, it wasn’t mine. My eyes followed that muscular and long limb all the way up until reaching the very masculine shoulder it was attached to. A shoulder that led to a strong neck that ended in a head that—

The owner of all those body parts I had been studying in the darkness shifted. I froze. That robust and heavy arm that was latched to my waist moved slightly, his hand partially slipping beneath my shirt. All five fingers splayed on my skin.

My breath got stuck somewhere between my throat and mouth.

But it was hard when those fingers felt so hot against my skin, causing my whole body to tingle.

Only a few inches separated me from Aaron.

A series of F-bombs were dropped, blasting across my mind as blurry images flashed through my head.

Those fingers brushed my skin again, and a deep and throaty noise left the man sleeping beside me.

A dream. All those images had to have been a dream because we couldn’t have almost kissed. That was completely crazy. That was—

At the fastest pace known to man, all the events from last night solidified. They tumbled down my memory, flashing behind my eyes and making me recall every last one of them. Each and every one of those images, snippets—memories—replayed in my mind in painfully slow motion.

All the sidra. Aaron’s fabricated story about how we had started dating. The way his eyes had been locked on me all through the night. Us dancing in the middle of a dark club with sticky floors, lost among the sea of bodies. My freak-out. Aaron sitting with me on the sidewalk, taking care of me, telling me about himself. Opening up and laying out a piece of himself for me. Him pressing me against the wardrobe. My body coming alive—being lit on fire—with all those featherlight brushes of his lips and fingers. Lina. Aaron had called me Lina. Right before he brushed his lips over mine.

We had almost kissed.

No. I had almost begged Aaron to kiss me, and I would have done more than just that.

“When I finally kiss you, there won’t be any doubt in your mind that it is real,” he had said that before going to check if what had burst our bubble of madness was Charo.

And I had lain on the bed and passed out immediately.

I needed to get out of this bed. I needed time to think, to process. Away from Aaron. Before I did something stupid. Or reckless. Something like almost kissing him.

A low groan climbed up my throat, and I had no other choice but to muffle it with my hand. The sudden motion made the mattress bounce under me.

Aaron stretched beside me.

Don’t wake up, please. Please, universe. God. Anyone. I just need a couple of minutes to gather myself before I have to face him.

I felt Aaron’s body settle back, his breathing remaining deep and constant.

I was being a complete chicken, but I wanted a few minutes to myself. Just so I could appease everything that kept darting through my mind. To make peace with it and move on like nothing had ever happened. Also, to hunt down a painkiller and kill the throbbing in my head. Coffee would be good too.

And the first step was getting the hell out of this bed—from under the arm I had desperately been gripping for dear life only a few hours ago—as fast and as quietly as I possibly could before Aaron’s eyes opened and found me losing my shit.

Lifting Aaron’s heavy limb as delicately and slowly as I could, I rolled to the side, right to the edge of the bed, and then I deposited his muscular body part back on the comforter. Aaron moved, turning on his back and lifting that arm that had been on top of me so it rested behind his head.

That position caused his biceps to flex and look all big and delectable and—

Jesus Christ, Catalina.

Pulling my eyes off the man on the bed, I moved through the room on my tiptoes. I made my way out and closed the door behind me. My head fell on the wooden surface, and my eyes closed.

“Vaya, vaya. Mira quién ha amanecido,” a high-pitched voice welcomed me from outside the kitchen. “Buenos días, prima.”

The blood in my body froze.

I couldn’t catch a freaking break.

My lips curled with a forced smile. “Hola, Charo. Buenos días,” I greeted her, straightening my back and trying to look the furthest from someone who had just snuck out of a room.

I walked into the kitchen, keeping my steps breezy and casual.

Passing my cousin as she stood rooted to the white tiles, studying my every move, I proceeded to open cabinets and drawers, looking for the coffee beans so I could at least caffeinate my brain before Charo started the questioning. Or Aaron woke up and I had to face him.

“He dejado una cafetera preparada,” Charo chimed behind me. She had prepared coffee for me. That could only mean one thing: she was up to something. “Está ahí, mujer. En la encimera.” Coffee was on the countertop.

With my back still to her, I muttered my thanks and proceeded to pour some black goodness in a mug.

Much to the displeasure of my hungover head—but not any surprise—she continued with her monologue before I could even take the first sip.

“Hay suficiente para ti y para tu novio.” There was enough coffee for me and my boyfriend, she told me. “Imagino que no tardará en despertarse ¿no? Oye si quieres ir a llamarle para que no se enfríe el café …” Charo continued.

If she was trying to get me to go fetch Aaron so the coffee she
had prepared wouldn’t get cold, she had another thing coming. The coffee would spontaneously turn into ice cubes before I willingly went back inside that room.

“Menuda sensación ha causado en la familia. Tu madre no podía parar de …” And then she proceeded to tell me about when and how and what had been said about my—fake—boyfriend, Aaron, in the mere twenty-four hours he’d been in the country.

Which had been a lot, considering the short amount of time.

That was exactly why having Charo sharing accommodations with us was so dangerous. She had no social filters of any kind and no regard for privacy. I was genuinely shocked she wasn’t plundering herself into our room and taking my fake boyfriend out of bed, so she could continue her perusal.

Charo’s chatter kept filling the kitchen as I nodded my head absently. “Y justo como le dije a tu madre, llegará un día en el que Lina tendrá que superar lo de Daniel.” Just how I told your mom, one day, Lina will have to get over Daniel. “Sino se va a quedar para vestir santos y …”

Jesus, my cousin had just used that Spanish expression I hated so much. The one I had heard directed at me more than once, always muttered or whispered, or just like she had done, loud and clear. Se va a quedar para vestir santos. Which literally translated to something about dressing saints and meant that I’d stay single and dedicate my life to God for the rest of my life.

Feeling completely defenseless, standing all alone with my cousin, I couldn’t decide if sleepy Aaron was a blessing or a curse anymore. Yesterday, when he had been with me, facing Charo, my sister, Daniel, and everybody else, it had been unexpectedly easier than doing that now.

I realized now that as much as I had brought him to Spain with that particular purpose, I had never truly expected that it would work. Or that we’d become a team. That he’d instill strength in me—even if I’d use it to lie to my family—or that he’d make me feel like I wasn’t alone in this.

And the scariest, most terrifying part was that all that was starting to bleed through the lines that defined our deal. In a little over a day.

The spanish love deception

I had been so absorbed by this duel we had going on that I had almost forgotten about the man on the stage. I had barely checked on him since the bidding bloodshed started.

Just as I was about to turn my attention to Aaron, my hand rose in the air one more time—as high as the ridiculous amount of money we had reached—and this time, it did alone.

Angela waved in my direction. “Going once for the lady in midnight blue,” she called.

My heart thumped against my chest harder. I caught a glimpse of a gray-haired man beside a tight-lipped Lady in Red, who stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Going twice,” Angela continued as I watched the man whisper something in Lady in Red’s ear, to which she just sighed and nodded. Reluctantly.

Come on, come on, come on. Aaron is almost mine.

“And sold to the very lovely and very passionate lady in the midnight-blue gown.” Angela closed the bidding with a wink.

I felt the celebratory holler climbing to my throat as my head finally turned in Aaron’s direction. I wanted to do a little victory dance. To throw my hands in the air too. I also felt the urge to shout a couple of inappropriate words, which, in hindsight, I would have realized was extremely stupid and I would have immediately regretted it.

But as Aaron came into view, that whirling emotion that had been too loud a moment ago, fell silent on its own. He wasn’t even smiling. He simply … looked at me.

The disappointment at not finding that grin I had gotten a glimpse of earlier returned, and I wondered if it would be this way from today on. Me searching for Aaron’s smile and him keeping it locked away again.

I swallowed that up, shoving those stupid thoughts out of my head.

My lips tugged up regardless of all that, and I gave a halfhearted cheer. To which Aaron simply nodded, looking like he did when he had something in his mind. Something that bothered him.

Frowning, I watched Aaron’s long legs climb down the stage and walk to my side, all the while ignoring how the way he wasn’t even celebrating with me made me feel. Instead, I focused on keeping what I hoped looked like a genuine smile in place.

The blue-eyed man I had just bought for a date that would never happen stopped in front of me. He dipped his head, his chin almost touching his collarbone. I waited, but he didn’t say anything.

I reached for something to say and came up empty-handed, returning the silence.

That awareness I had been familiarizing myself with far too rapidly for my own good and comfort came rushing back, raising the short hairs on my arms. It hit me then how weird, how strange, and how shocking in many different ways it was that we’d found each other in this situation. How tonight didn’t even seem real.

Shifting on my feet under the weight of Aaron’s gaze, I swallowed. One more time, I wasn’t capable of taking in this heavy silence that settled between us. “I hope you come with a boat, Blackford,” I finally said, my voice sounding a little off. “Otherwise, I might regret not sticking with Patrick.”

Aaron’s eyes didn’t waver. They held mine. And just as they did, I watched how they warmed up for just a heartbeat. The skin around them wrinkling only slightly with the smile I now knew he refused to give me.

I felt something shift in my chest. Something very subtle and small that I almost missed, but it didn’t help the pace of my breath—still all over the place from the auction—to return to normal.

He took one step closer. “Sometimes, I’m convinced you enjoy making me suffer.” His usually deep voice sounded hushed. Giving to his words an afterthought quality.

“Oh.” I frowned. My mouth opened, but I still struggled for a few more moments. “Okay, you have every right to be pissed, but in all fairness, we are even because you should have warned me it would get that intense.” I laughed awkwardly. “If I had known, I would have added a ninja star or two to my outfit. They would have definitely come in handy with Lady in Red.”

Aaron towered over my short height, quiet and still gazing at me in that way that made me shift on my feet again.

Silence settled between us once more, bringing to my attention that we were no longer surrounded by the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage. Instead, the murmur of voices accompanied with a mellow tune came all the way from the other side of the rooftop.

Aaron broke the silence, saying, “Dance with me.”

He offered his hand, letting it hang in the small space between our bodies.

Gaping at his hand, I hesitated. Not really sure whether I had a reason to doubt his offer or if it was just the way I automatically reacted to Aaron.

“Is this part of the deal?” I heard myself ask.

“Us dancing, I mean. Just for show, right?” I explained.

I wasn’t blind—or stupid—and I was pretty sure that dancing wasn’t something we needed to do. But a big part of me was effectively confused, and I was growing more so by the moment. So, by saying that out loud, I was simply throwing myself a lifeline I could grab on to until I could clear up the mess in my head.

“Right,” Aaron answered, that frown disappearing and his hand still waiting for my decision. “Just for show.”

I accepted his offer, letting his large palm wrap around mine, unsure of how good of an idea it was.

Aaron pulled me gently behind him, and my legs shook with a weird mix of anticipation and unease. His hand was warm and firm against mine, making me feel good and tingly even though I could tell it weighted down that lifeline I was trying to hold on to with teeth and nails.

I was still unsure of how good of an idea this was when he softly dragged me where a small group of people had gathered to dance.

But it was when he stopped walking, turned, and stepped close—so very close—that my mind finally flagged this as a bad idea. So much that a part of me started debating whether I should run away or pretend I fainted right there and then so I didn’t have to face what we were about to do.

As in Aaron Blackford—the man I had been antagonizing for so long—and me.

Oh sweet baby Jesus.

Aaron draped his arms around my waist, and I felt a shock of electricity spreading across my body from the points where his hands rested on my back. My breath caught, and something heavy and solid dropped to the bottom of my stomach.

Swallowing hard, I tilted my head back. I thought I saw dare and wariness in his gaze. All at once. And that sent an unsolicited spur of anticipation through me.

I placed my hands on Aaron’s chest—noticing how hard and toned it felt under my fingers—but unlike earlier tonight, when I had accidentally touched him, this time, I let my hands rest there. Only then did he bring me to him. My small frame immediately cradled in his much larger one.

A heartbeat later, we were moving, almost every part of our bodies from our chests down pressed together. Aaron’s motions were sure, directing, while mine were stiff and incompliant.

Releasing a breath through my nose, I tried to relax my limbs. To focus on the mechanics of dancing. To calm that red-hot awareness raging inside of me. But the knowledge of how close our bodies were was blowing up alarms inside my head and making it impossible for me to think about much else besides that.

Dancing. We were dancing. Bodies flushed. And that was something we weren’t supposed to be doing. A situation in which Aaron and Lina, who barely tolerated each other, shouldn’t be finding themselves in because this wasn’t something that people who couldn’t stand each other did.

Aaron spun me in a circle with a swift motion and pressed me against him one more time, making my heart quicken in a way it had no business doing.

The music was slow, perfect for swaying and forgetting about everything outside the smooth rhythm. Ideal for getting lost in the peace that being in someone else’s arms could bring. But the more we swayed, the further I was from feeling anything t
hat resembled peace. Not when Aaron was so … big and hard and warm against me.

That was probably why I tripped. Before I knew what was happening, my feet had messed up the beat and tangled together, and they would have probably sent me straight to the floor if not for the man—the pair of strong arms wrapped solidly around me—who held me in place.

“Thank you,” I muttered, feeling my face heat up and my body tense up further. “And sorry.”

God. I had never blushed so much in one single night. I didn’t recognize myself.

Aaron’s arms tightened around me. “Just for precaution,” he said, bringing me even closer.

Each and every nerve ending in my body turned into the end of a live wire. My skin tingled, my heart raced, and my mind whirled.

“Oh. Okay.” The words reached my ears, strangled, as if it had come out of me in a gurgle. “Thanks.”

The skin on my face heated up further.

Aaron hummed, just as his thumb brushed my back very lightly, drawing one single circle that left a tiny trail of goose bumps behind. Goose bumps that traveled to all corners and nooks of my body.

As much as I told myself that this was a simple physical reaction to being held against a male body, being held by a man’s arms, it was Aaron’s male body and Aaron’s arms after all. So, either I had been alone for too long or I was losing my mind. Because this felt … good. Really good.

Those ocean-blue eyes shifted to my lips briefly. So quickly that I was convinced I had imagined it. It didn’t matter though because then his face dipped, getting as close as it had ever been and making me forget all about that. Making me notice instead details that I had never paid attention to before. Like how full those lips were, which I saw pressed in a line so often. Or how his eyelashes were long and dark and framed the blue in his eyes so perfectly. Or how I could see the lines of the soft creases adorning his forehead, right above the spot where that frown that was almost a fixed feature rested.

I was so lost in all that that one of my feet tripped again, but Aaron’s arms tightened their grip around my waist as he shifted his head to one of my sides.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at this, Catalina?” he asked a few inches from my ear. I felt the air leaving his mouth on my temple.

Trying not to pay any extra attention to how close his mouth was from my face, I focused on my feet and answered almost absently, “What do you mean?”

Aaron’s diligent and smooth motions spun us one more time to the soft tune.

“I thought you were supposed to carry the beat in your blood,” he explained in a low voice, his head not giving up an inch of space. “Or was it the music in your veins?”

I hoped my ears were not red with embarrassment. “This is not my style,” I lied. I’d never done a worse job at dancing, and it had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the man I was currently flush against. “Or maybe it’s my partner that’s not the best fit.”

Aaron chuckled. It was low and short-lived, but it reminded me of the way he had laughed earlier, leaving me a little out of breath.

And so, I inhaled through my nose, trying to restore my breathing and immediately regretting it. Because what an awful idea that had been. The worst idea. All I had accomplished was filling my lungs with Aaron’s scent.

Aaron’s very nice and very heady and very, very masculine scent.

Could I unsmell it, please, universe? Please.

“Was that you admitting something you are not good at?” Aaron asked, pulling me out of my head. “To me?”

“I never claimed to be a spectacular dancer.” Not when my partner was someone who certainly succeeded in distracting me so damn much. “Plus, all that rhythm in your blood stuff is nothing more than a stereotype. There are more than a few hundred Spaniards who can’t follow a beat to save their lives.”

“I bet there are. I’ll keep leading then.” His voice was low, a little closer to my ear than before. “But just in case you belong to those few hundreds.”

“If you must,” I muttered because what was the point of denying something that was so obvious? I was doing a poor job at it. “I didn’t know you danced.”

Just when I thought it was physically impossible for Aaron’s body to fold around mine any more, for our bodies to come any closer, he dipped his head further. Impossibly low. His lips hovered directly above the shell of my ear. “There are a few things you don’t know about me, Catalina.”

My body went even more rigid in response. A flutter taking flight in my stomach.

I forced myself to remember that I was here to pretend I was his date—of sorts. That I had put on a little show at fighting that woman over him at the auction. So, fake or not, to everybody else, I was supposed to be someone who would welcome this kind of closeness and not someone who would jump back, startled.

So, I settled my hands on his hard chest with a little more decision. Unfortunately, the gesture only managed to turn that flutter in my stomach to a full-on flapping and waving and whirling riot.

“What’s on your mind?” Aaron asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Being caught off guard by the question—and the interest—I blurted the first thing that came to mind, “You said this had nothing to do with a woman.” I shifted my palms across his chest. “But it looked to me like it had everything to do with one.”

“I’ve never seen Mrs. Archibald so riled up,” he admitted.

I adjusted my hands on his chest again, trying not to get lost in how warm his skin felt, even beneath all the layers of fabric. “So, you are familiar with this Mrs. Archibald, huh?” I felt his head nod once, his jaw brushing my temple. “Let me guess. Tonight was not her first time getting into a little charitable quarrel over you.”

“Aaron Blackford, the cougar magnet.” I laughed lightly, the sound coming out a little shaky.

A soft puff of air hit my ear, rousing a wave of shivers. “It wasn’t only Mrs. Archibald enthusiastically bidding, if memory serves me well.”

“Smug,” I muttered.

But Aaron was right. There had been many other people—younger, attractive—interested in him.

“Is this why you asked me to be here?” Aaron didn’t immediately answer, so I continued, “I guess it all makes sense. What Angela said earlier and TJ kind of confirmed.”

“That Aaron Blackford is scared of a bunch of overly motivated wealthy ladies who want to buy his company.”

His palms shifted on my back, spinning us into the changing rhythm of a new song. “Are you teasing me?” he said right into my ear.

I was. But I would never admit to such a thing out loud. I felt myself relax just the splinter of a hair in his arms. “Does it happen often?”

“What exactly, Catalina?” he asked very slowly. “Almost being exchanged for a man with a boat or having a questionable dancing partner?”

“Neither.” Feeling the smile tugging at my lips, I went on, “Women flaunting themselves at you. I saw how tense you were on the stage. You looked ready to jump out and get out of there.” I thought about that for a second. Him bringing me here … it kind of made sense now. “Does that kind of attention make you uncomfortable?”

“Not always.” I felt the brush of his jaw against my cheek, the simple and light gesture causing an electrifying wave of sensation to trail down my neck. “I’m not scared of a woman’s interest in me, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t send them all away.”

“Oh, okay.” My voice came out breathy and unsure.

Of course he didn’t. I was sure he had needs. And those needs were something I wasn’t willing to think about with his arms around me.

Aaron’s right hand shifted on my back, trailing down an inch or two. Meanwhile, the skin of my face—no, my whole freaking body—burned.

His arms tightened around me one more time.

“Thank you,” he said.

And I felt those two words like soft puffs of air against my hair.

“What for?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“For not stepping on my foot.” I opened my mouth to apologize, but he continued, “But also for not being deterred by Mrs. Archibald. Last year, things got a little … uncomfortable when she found out our date consisted of cleaning dog kennels and spending a couple of hours walking and playing with them.” I felt his sigh on the skin on the side of my neck. “Not that it dissuaded her this year.”

Something that felt a lot like protectiveness flickered in my chest.

I shook my head lightly, trying to make sense of myself. All this dancing and spinning was clearly messing with me. “Well, as much as I am sorry for your wallet, considering the amount the donation reached, I am happy I got to see that sulky face when I beat her,” I admitted, shocking myself at how pleased I had really been. “I’m also sorry for those doggies and what they had to endure last year with that woman. What kind of hypocrite donates money for a charity that focuses on animal shelters and doesn’t like dogs? Those poor guys. I’d adopt them all if I didn’t live in a tiny studio apartment. Hell, I’d happily volunteer to spend some time with them any day.”

“I can take you, if that’s what you want.” Aaron’s words hung in the air. A part of me wanted to say yes. Yes to the chance of seeing a new side of him. Perhaps another smile too. “You just bought a date anyway.”

“With your money.”

“Regardless,” he countered. “It’s part of the package deal.”

That pang of unprecedented hurt hit me again, reminding me of what this was. Part of the deal. That was Aaron, a man of his word.

Aaron’s head reared back, revealing his face. His gaze was searching.

“I …” I hesitated, feeling stupid for considering for just an instant that maybe he’d offered because he genuinely wanted to take me there. “I just …”

Everything that had happened tonight was spinning in my head. Aaron in a tux. All these … new and different ways I was feeling around him. The auction. His smile. His laughter. Dancing. My body against his, flushed together. All of that and then the fact that we would be going to Spain in a matter of a few weeks.

The spanish love deception

Only, in that precise moment, with Aaron’s arm under my fingers and his smile aimed at me, I came to realize that what frightened me was nothing I had ever come to expect.

If I’d known that my sister had hired a kiss cam for the wedding reception, I would have claimed to be sick and hidden in the bathroom. Ironically, I wouldn’t have had to lie all that much. My dinner kept climbing up my throat every single time the tune announcing the start of the most painful thirty seconds of my life reached my ears. During that time that stretched into a hellish eternity, the camera scanned the crowd seated on the round tables scattered across the lush green garden of the restaurant before coming to a stop on a couple and displaying their image—framed by a heart—on a conveniently installed projector.

Every single time the camera so much as passed over my fake date and me, my heart ceased beating before resuming at breakneck speed.

Apparently, the possibility of having my first kiss with Aaron displayed on a big screen in front of my whole family was going to give me a heart attack.

And just as if my thoughts had somehow conjured it, the tritone tune announced the start of a new round of: Will Lina die of nerves and anticipation tonight? Or will she lose her shit and commit camera murder?

“Oh, what a fun idea this was, Isabel!” my mom hollered with excitement from across the table.

My sister seemed to pride herself even more, if that was possible. “I know.” She smiled giddily. “They’ll even put all the film together, edit it, and send me a montage with all the kisses,” she explained over the relentless tune of doom.

One eye on the projector screen, I watched the camera hover on a table close by.

“I had to book an extra package for that, but it’s totally worth it.”

The camera swiped over our table, displaying Aaron’s and my faces on the screen.

My face blanched. My hand somehow jerked, dropping a fork. I dipped after it, too briskly, and almost knocked over a glass. Cursing under my breath, I picked up the fork from under the table, resurfacing just in time to see the camera moving along.

Close. That was so close.

Reaching for my wine, I actually considered sneaking out and putting an end to this. But that would be running. Being a coward. Again. Something I’d kept doing a lot of lately.

If the camera stops on you, you will kiss Aaron, I told myself as I downed the rest of my wine. A peck on the lips. It doesn’t need to be a movie kiss. Just a kiss.

But my pep talk didn’t help. It only made my chest tighter and my belly flutter.

Peeking at the man that I’d probably have to kiss in a handful of seconds, I was surprised to see a muscle in his jaw jumping. Studying him more closely, I realized Aaron looked … like New York Aaron again. Not like the relaxed and playful version I had shared these past days with. His gaze was set on the screen, and while his face gave nothing away—at least not to those who hadn’t mastered the art of reading Aaron like I had—there was something about him that told me he wasn’t as fine as he looked.

Once more, the camera glided over us, putting our faces on the screen for a tense second, and moved on.

My heart resumed.

Before I could feel any kind of relief, it came right back, as if it were performing a dance especially choreographed for me, teasing my heartbeat until sending it into cardiac arrest. Little droplets of sweat formed on the nape of my neck. Aaron remained quiet by my side, steadfast, his eyes drilled into the screen. So much that concern started seeping in.

“Whoo!” the crowd hooted as the camera cruised across our table again, the speed decreasing gradually.

Looking at Aaron, it was hard to notice much else besides him. I was barely aware of how the integrants of our table had come alive, clapping and whistling to the tune of the goddamn kiss cam. My eyes zeroed on Aaron’s lips, pressed in a flat line. Anxiety and anticipation—yes, powerful and silky anticipation—built in the pit of my belly. My gaze took in his whole body, stoically sitting by my side. Amid the chaos around us, I still managed to catch the movement of his knee. It was bouncing. The motion barely lasted more than a couple of seconds. But I had seen it.

My gaze leaped back to his profile.

Is Aaron … nervous? About kissing me?

Not after the way he had almost done that right after teasing and plummeting me to a point where I would have begged for his lips.

Unaware of my eyes on him, his knee resumed the bounce, the muscle on his jaw twitching again in sync.

Oh my God, he is.

Aaron was nervous. He was all jittery and high-strung, and it was because of me. Because chances were, he’d have to kiss me. Me.

Something took flight right between my ribs. I couldn’t believe how a man so confident, so composed—one who had made my body come alive and sing with nothing more than the softest of touches—could be fussing over having to kiss me. The flutter in my chest stirred, making me itch to reach—

A loud cheer exploded around us, taking my attention off Aaron.

People chanted, “Que se besen! Que se besen!” Kiss! Kiss!

My eyes leaped around desperately, my heart rising to my mouth. Everybody was looking in our direction.

I’ll do it. I’ll kiss him.

As I zeroed in on the screen, something lurched to the pit of my stomach in response to what I saw.

My dad reached for my mom’s face and planted a kiss on her lips.

It wasn’t relief. What had pierced my body was disappointment. Baffling, inexplicable disappointment at me not being the one framed by the silly string of hearts. Because my parents had been targeted by the kiss cam. Not us.

I felt Aaron move beside me. Turning in his direction, my gaze hopelessly fastened to his lips again. His mouth. That speck of disappointment grew, obliterating everything else and turning into something thick and heavy that promised a rich taste on my tongue. One that made my heart speed up.

Want, I realized. What I felt was need. I wanted him, needed him to gather me in his arms and kiss me like he had promised.

“Because when I finally take those lips in mine, it will be the furthest thing from pretending.”

That was what he had said. And wasn’t what I was feeling inside—what threatened to spill out and turn my life around—the furthest thing from a lie? From pretending?

It was. Consequences be damned, but it was.

I was long past this deception scheme. And the ball of emotions that came with that realization collapsed down my chest, crumbling along the rest of my body and taking everything in its way with it. Real—what I was feeling had to be real.

“When I finally kiss you, there won’t be any doubt in your mind that it is real.”

I wanted it to be real. Real, real, real.

Aaron must have felt the shift in me—naturally, as he was the one person on earth who seemed to read me like he owned the only copy to The Handbook of Lina. His gaze sharpened, roaming across my face as I watched in awe how his lips parted.

It was in that precise moment that I felt like something had finally clicked into place, unhinging everything I had been keeping on a short leash.

I couldn’t know how or why. Didn’t even have the slightest idea. And wasn’t that part of the mystery of life? Part of what made it breathtakingly exciting? Unexpectedly beautiful? We couldn’t control and tame emotions to our convenience.

And what I felt for Aaron had turned into a wild beast that I mercilessly fell prey to.

That was exactly why when Aaron quietly reached for my hand, took it in his, and stood up, I followed. Every single thing that had stopped me in these past few days was obliterated in the chaos that had built around us. We had to cross the space, sidestepping people who now danced animatedly, eluding relatives with red cheeks and ruffled hair who lunged in our direction, ignoring the music filling the outdoorsy space that called everybody to the improvised dance floor. But what did I care? Nothing mattered, except following this man wherever h
e took me.

Like a glass, I had been filling up, droplet after droplet. Slowly packing all these things he had given me—the softest, most provoking touches; precious smiles that were just for me; his strength; his faith in me—to the brim and heaping with everything I had been feeling. I found myself on the verge of being toppled down. Of helplessly spilling and revealing everything I had worked so hard on bottling up.

We were somewhere outside still, perhaps on one of the sides of the patio of the restaurant. The music from the party reached my ears, muffled by the distance, and the only light illuminating this section of the garden came from a lonely lamp perched on the far edge of the building, leaving us almost in the dark.

Aaron came to a stop, finally turning around and facing me. His jaw was clenched again, the rest of his features screwed securely together so they gave nothing away.

But I knew. I knew.

My feet shuffled on the gravel beneath them, telling me this couldn’t be a frequented path for guests if my heels didn’t seem to stand still for more than a few seconds.

Or perhaps it was just me and the way my body shook, what stopped me from remaining upright.

Aaron took a step forward, his body angling toward mine. Deliciously crowding me and forcing my back to come against the coarse surface of the wall.

“Hi,” I croaked, as if we were just seeing each other after a long time. And, God, why did it feel so much like we were? Like I was finally here. Finally coming home.

I watched Aaron’s throat work, and then he took a deep breath through his nose. “Hey.” His palm came to rest on my jaw, cupping my face. “Ask me what I’m thinking.”

My heart raced with the prospect of doing so as I anticipated his answer with a trepidation I had never known. But it was better than him asking me to speak what was in mine.

“What are you thinking, Aaron?”

A hum rose in his throat, the sound deep and husky. It shot straight to my chest. “I’m thinking that you want me to kiss you.”

My blood swirled at his words, turning thicker. I do. I do.

“And I’m also thinking that if I don’t do it soon, I might lose my goddamn mind.”

The palm that was cupping my face fell, and a finger trailed down the skin of my arm.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t think I could.

His gaze traveled down my throat, leaving a path of shivers on my skin. “But I was serious when I said that when I finally took your lips, you’d know what it meant.”

He stepped closer, the tips of his shoes grazing mine, our bodies almost touching. I braced my hands on his arms, not trusting myself anymore, seeing as how I shook. How I trembled.

“Do you know now, Catalina?” His nose brushed my temple, making my breath hitch. “Do you know what this means?”

Aaron’s lips flicked along my cheekbone, making my back arch, my shoulders coming flush against the wall behind me. My lips parted, my answer stuck somewhere in my throat.

He released a shaky breath, his body tight with restraint. “Answer me, please.”

Aaron’s forehead came to rest against mine, and I watched his eyelashes hide that ocean I’d gladly drown in if he let me. Eyes closed, he inched closer, his lips almost coming against mine.

“Put me out of my misery, Catalina,” he gritted out, cupping the back of my head with trembling fingers.

My heart—my poor heart—lost it at the desperation in his voice. At the unfiltered need I heard.

“Real,” I finally breathed into his mouth. “This is real,” I repeated, needing to hear the words, feel the truth on my skin. “Kiss me, Aaron,” I told him breathlessly. “Prove to me that it is.”

A growl—a deliriously low growl—left Aaron’s mouth. And before I could even process how the sound had seeped deep, deep inside of me, right into the marrow of my bones, Aaron’s lips were on mine.

He kissed me—Aaron was kissing me—as if he had been starving for an eternity. Just like a beast meant to devour me. His hard body coming against mine, desperately seeking anything I’d give him.

Our lips opened, ravaging each other’s mouths, while his large palms roamed down my sides. Down, down, down they went, stopping below my waist. My hands flew to his chest, and I relished how hard it felt, how warm, how perfectly solid and just for me.

My heart drummed against the walls of my own chest, and a sound climbed up my throat when I felt Aaron’s heart do the same against my fingertips.

The noise only fueled Aaron to press into me with his hips. To reward me with a wild sound of his own. His hands gripped my waist, bringing me even closer to him, making me feel the heat of his hardness on my belly and punching another moan out of me.

Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, my mind seemed to chant as my body went on sensory overload.

His hands roamed over the fabric of my dress, coming around me, dragging down my back, all while his tongue danced against mine.

Another press of his hips against mine made my body spin out of control and sent more and more heat to pool between my thighs.

Aaron’s lips left mine, revealing he was breathing as violently as I was. Without wasting a moment, his mouth landed on the soft spot between my jaw and neck. Looking up at the dark sky, I bared my throat for him. Another whimper left me, carried away by the breeze coming from the sea.

“That sound,” Aaron breathed into my skin. “That sound is driving me goddamn insane.”

Insanity—that was what this was. What was pumping in my veins.

He kissed a path up my throat, veering for my ear, leaving little nips that left my blood roaring. Thundering across my body.

My hands toured up his wide chest, reaching the nape of his neck. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at it softly when he nibbled at the skin below my earlobe. When he grazed his teeth over it, I pulled a little harder.

“Hold on to me, baby.” In a swift move, Aaron picked me up from the floor, my legs going around him and my arms wrapping tighter around his neck.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I worried about the fabric of the dress, about it not being airy or thin enough so it’d let me feel him. Aaron. All of him.

Every doubt fled my mind as he pushed against me once more. My back came harder against the wall, and I could feel his length nestled between my legs.

Hot—he was so hot and hard.

“That’s not enough. More,” I implored. I wanted more, more, more. I’d shred the dress to pieces if I had to.

As he rocked his hips in one firm motion that made me see the stars, his lips found mine again, muffling another of my moans.

“You are killing me, Catalina,” he said against my lips.

My hold on his neck tightened, trying to bring him even closer. More.

“I know,” he gritted out, and with another motion of his hips, he positioned himself right against my crease, almost tipping me over the edge. Aaron pressed himself against me, the heat of his hardness furiously seeping through the layers of clothing between us.

“More,” I begged again. I wasn’t ashamed. I’d do it again. And again and again.

“So demanding.” A husky chuckle caressed my lips. “If I snuck my hand under your dress,” Aaron rasped against my mouth, rocking against me and throbbing between my legs, “how wet would I find you, baby?”

He wouldn’t believe just how much. I didn’t think I’d ever been this turned on, this aroused, this recklessly desperate for more.

Aaron grazed my lips with his, the touch barely enough to appease me. “I’m not going to do that.” His voice was husky, bathed in the need I felt washing over my body. “Not now.”

“Why?” I breathed out.

I whimpered at his words. At the loss of not having what he
had just painted so clearly in my head. I’d give anything to have him bury himself deep inside me. Perhaps that way, I wouldn’t feel this void in the center of my chest.

His forehead came to rest on top of mine again. Every motion came to a painful stop. “I’d die a happy man if I could make you come right here and now,” Aaron whispered, making me shiver. “But anyone could walk by and see us, and that’s a privilege I want for just myself.”

Sighing, I trailed my fingers through his hair and then around his neck until coming to cup his jaw. Slowly, I came to my senses. “You are right.”

My lips puckered, pouting.

Blue eyes that shone like they had never done before crinkled with a smile. “Look at that,” he said before kissing me firmly. Way too briefly for me to be anywhere satisfied. “I will get foolish, crazy ideas if you start agreeing with me so easily.”

That got my pout to fall just a smidgen, and perhaps a small smile peeked out. And just as I was considering puckering my lips again, remembering how hot and bothered I still was, his head dipped again, and he kissed the remainder of that pout off my face.

“Let’s go. Your family is probably wondering where we are.” He slowly dropped me to the floor. Then, he brushed his fingers over a few strands of hair that had come out of place, the back of his hand grazing my cheek before he stepped back. “Perfect,” he said, looking me up and down.

And the word traveled straight to the middle of my chest.

He offered his hand, and I took it before it hovered in the air for a complete second. I was a needy woman, it seemed. And when it came to Aaron, I’d take from him as much as he was willing to give me. And then perhaps I’d beg for more.

Ignited. That was exactly how I felt.

It was what Aaron had done to me. He had lit me up. Unraveled something that, I realized now, had been humming beneath my skin for a long time.

Everything rioting deep inside of me hadn’t been shaped out of just a few moments or an impossibly loud physical connection. What caused this uprising had already been there, buried. I had kept it submerged under the weight of buts, fears, and doubts. Pushed down by my own stubbornness too. But now that it had burst out, resurfacing and streaming out of me, mixed with need and want and something that was exhilarating and absolutely terrifying, I knew that I had reached a point of no return. I wouldn’t be able to push it down, shove it aside, or ignore it any longer.

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The spanish love deception

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The spanish love deception

The spanish love deception

The Spanish Love Deception

Елена Армас

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The Spanish Love Deception

Елена Армас

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The spanish love deception

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The Spanish Love Deception

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The spanish love deception

The Spanish Love Deception

The Spanish Love Deception

The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Роковые яйца

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

The Spanish Love Deception

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BCDF Pictures Developing ‘The Spanish Love Deception’ Film; ‘The Hating Game’s Peter Hutchings Tapped To Adapt Elena Armas Bestseller

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THE SPANISH LOVE DECEPTION

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****** Мы осуществляем сделку в течение 22-23 рабочих дня с момента внесения депозита на наш счет или со дня, когда вы сообщите нам о личном приеме ***********

Spanish love deception, Elena Armas

The spanish love deception

The spanish love deception

The Spanish Love Deception

A Novel

Table of Contents

Listen To An Excerpt

About The Book

About The Author

The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

Elena Armas

Goodreads Author

Испанский любовный обман

Елена Армас

Лучшая рецензия на книгу

Рецензии

5 Испанский роман bollito и osito 🙂

The spanish love deception

Кухарка тайного советника

Роковые яйца

Там, где бьется сердце. (СИ)

Парфюм для оборотня (СИ)

Чай с жасмином (СИ)

Второй шанс? (СИ)

Исповедь Однозвезда (1-3 глава)

The Spanish Love Deception

Аннотация

Мы осуществляем сделку в течение 22-23 рабочих дня с момента внесения депозита на наш счет или со дня, когда вы сообщите нам о личном приеме *****