The Baby Of Their Dreams

Yet the other part of Cat thrummed in suspense. Could she simply let loose and enjoy a night of passion with a very beautiful man with the cast-iron guarantee of no future?

It was refreshingly tempting.

He was seriously beautiful. Far more so than she was used to.

He was also rather more brusque and arrogant than she would choose, just rather too alpha for her.

She was tired, so tired of the inevitable let-down in relationships, the starting gun of hope, the numerous false starts and then the sprint that turned into an exhausting jog, and then standing bent, hands on thighs, and admitting defeat, because the two of you were just not going to make it to the finish line.

She was surprised at the ease of her decision.

‘No.’ Cat finally smiled. ‘I have no problem with that.’

‘Good.’

Housekeeping sorted, she tried to focus on the menu but, at thirty-four, she felt she’d just passed her driving test and been given the keys but was far from skilled enough to drive.

‘Están listos para ordenar?’

The waiter came over and presumably asked if they were ready to order.

‘I’ll have paella.’ She handed back the menu.

‘The chicken here,’ Dominic said, ‘is the best you’ll ever taste…’

Her eyes narrowed. Usually she’d say that she’d like the paella, thank you for interfering. She certainly didn’t need a man choosing her food and yet as she glanced around, sure enough, the locals were eating the chicken.

Oh, he was so far from her usual fare but, no, he didn’t need to be perfect tonight.

‘When in Spain…’ She shrugged.

She had the chicken and, as he had promised, it was amazing.

‘Lemony, herby and so fat and juicy,’ Cat commented on her second mouthful.

‘And salty,’ Dominic said. ‘We’ll be up all night, guzzling water…’

He was presumptuous.

She knew, though, that he was right.

The rest of the world, the past, the future, was like rain as they huddled, as if under some imaginary umbrella, and enjoyed now—the spectacular food, the music that filled the restaurant.

They barely talked about work. She said something about being the only female consultant and how they gave every gynae patient to her. He mentioned how he’d lived in London till a couple of years ago, just half an hour or so away from her.

But then work got left behind and she found out how he loved the architecture in Edinburgh but was fast falling in love with Spain.

And she told him about her passion for renovation, and her obsession with wallpaper, how she could spend hours leafing through sample books but, even then, you could never quite know how it would look once up.

Usually she never got to that part as eyes had long since glazed over with boredom.

His glazed with lust.

‘Do you put it up yourself?’ Dominic asked.

‘I do.’ She smiled.

‘I feel emasculated.’

‘Oh, I doubt you could ever be that.’

It was Dominic who then smiled.

Was it wrong? she wondered as they danced.

Was it wrong to be dancing and happy on his birthday?

Tonight it felt right.

A sexy flamenco dancer was kicking his heels and strumming away and then, when he slowed things down, Cat felt her cheeks blaze with fire for sins not yet committed as Dominic pulled her into him.

His fingers ran lightly down her bare back and it felt utterly blissful.

‘Fourteen hours later than I’d have preferred,’ Dominic said into her ear, because that was how long it had been since he’d first itched for the feel of that sexy spine beneath his fingers.

‘Well, I’m glad for your sake that you waited,’ she said, imagining her reaction had he been so bold.

His touch didn’t feel bold now; it felt right.

When the music ended they made it back to their table and when the bill came Cat did her usual and put her card down.

‘We can go halves,’ she said as he picked up the card to hand it back to her.

‘Don’t do that, Cat.’

‘What?’

‘Ruin a perfectly good night.’

If she were setting the ground rules for the future, she’d have insisted on paying her way.

Instead, they were setting the ground rules for tonight and she shivered in the warm night air as they headed for the hotel.

They walked back along the beach. It was after eleven but not really dark thanks to a near full moon and, despite the hour, the beach was far from deserted.

‘There are some gorgeous beaches not far from here,’ he said. ‘Are you still determined to head back without seeing the place?’

‘I am, though I wish I’d known just how much I’d like it,’ she admitted. ‘I’m going to come again but next time for a holiday. You’re here a lot, then?’