Mad for you in Madrid (Building Love Book 3) Read online

  Lori watched the croupier drop the dice into the hands of a middle-aged Asian woman wearing a red empire-waist gown. Unfortunately, the good-luck color she wore did not help. The crowd groaned. A good portion of the onlookers, clearly disheartened, moved to other tables.

  A deep, sexy voice next to Lori chuckled. “Well, that certainly cleared out the crowd.” The seductive tone sent shivers down her spine.

  Lori snapped her head around. The sight of the handsome man in front of her made her eyes widen. Wow. Who are you?

  Chapter 2

  Lori gazed up at the tall, blond, athletically built man, feeling completely tongue-tied. He was model-perfect. His strong chin line, sharp blue eyes, and masculine cheekbones were straight from the pages of GQ. Perhaps he was a model. Some models made enough money to afford an extravagant night out like this. Who was this man?

  When no celebrity name popped up, she wondered whether he knew her from her mother’s business. Nah, I would have remembered seeing him around the office. If an anvil fell on my head, I’d remember him. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

  “Of course I’m talking to you. Why would I be speaking to anybody else?” he asked in a teasing voice.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Sorry. I thought that perhaps we had met. I was trying to place you.”

  “You must meet a lot of people.” His eyes crinkled in amusement.

  A smile spread across her face. The man is affable and gorgeous. I hope I don’t blow this. “Yes. Tens of thousands,” she deadpanned.

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  The man laughed. It was hard to feel shy around someone funny and playful. His personality human enough to compensate for god-like looks.

  He extended his hand out to her. “Daniel Vega.”

  Gingerly, she shook his hand. “Wow.”

  His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wow, what?”

  “I’m going to tell my friends I met a Vega in Vegas,” she explained. “What are the odds? Now all I have to do is meet up with a vegan . . .”

  The corner of his lips twitched in amusement. “You’re funny. You’ve got an unusual sense of humor.”

  “The unusual part I hear a lot.” Mostly from my mother. “I’m Lori Cayne, by the way.”

  A server in his early twenties approached them. The young man wore a black vest, white shirt, and bowtie. The badge on the vest had the Foundation’s name blazed in red lettering. ‘My name is Nigel’ was written underneath. Nigel proffered a small tray of Champagne flutes. “Champagne?” he offered politely.

  “Thank you,” Daniel said. “But is it possible to get something else to drink?”

  “Certainly, Sir,” Nigel replied. “What would you like?”

  “Whatever the lady wants.”

  Lori grinned at Daniel. “Thanks. That’s very sweet. But don’t worry about what I’m getting. Order something for yourself. I don’t share.”

  Nigel’s lips clamped down on an emerging chortle.

  Daniel arched an eyebrow at her. “Really? Good to know. I like a woman who protects her interests.” Daniel turned to Nigel. “Two of whatever she’s drinking, please.”

  Nigel glanced down at her glass. “A bay breeze, right?”

  “Yes. Your guess is spot-on.”

  Nigel thanked her and headed off toward the bar.

  “He should get a job at my mother’s firm,” Lori marveled.

  Daniel frowned. “Sorry, I don’t follow you.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “My mother is also working this crowd with gusto.”

  “Sounds like your mother is a professional dynamo.”

  “She is. I can vouch because my mom is also my boss. In fact, she’s the owner of the company.” Lori winced, wondering whether Mom also owned her.

  “You work for you mother. Interesting. How’s that arrangement going?”

  “Awful.”

  His amused expression held back laughter, somehow managing to show sympathy. “Working with family can be a challenge. I’ve got firsthand experience too.”

  Before she could inquire further, Nigel arrived. The young man took her old glass and tried to hand her the new one.

  “Wait, I want to give you a tip.” She opened the clasp of her purse.

  The server smiled and shook his head. “We’re not allowed to take tips tonight, Miss. Gratuities are covered by the event.” He handed them their drinks and darted off to serve others.

  “It was nice to offer him a tip,” Daniel observed. “Most people don’t think about tipping event staff.”

  Lori shrugged. “Can’t stiff the servers. It’s bad karma. Besides, I spent summers waitressing at a coffee house. I know how much servers rely on tips.”

  Daniel’s head cocked to one side. “Is that your family’s business? A restaurant?”

  “Oh, no. My family runs a public relations firm. When I was in college, I always worked elsewhere during summer breaks. To, well, you know . . .”

  “Escape?”

  “Yeah. The family business has a death grip on me now, although I’m not entirely out of the waitressing game. I volunteer when the restaurant holds a tip-for-charity night.”

  “Good for you.”

  “It’s no big deal. Other people do a lot more charity work than I do. For instance, there are plenty of people at the Orland Foundation. I just help when I can. Not too often, I’m afraid, since I’m usually trapped in the office.”

  He smiled sympathetically. “I understand. I worked in my family’s business for many years.”

  “It’s never easy, is it? How do you handle it?”

  “I don’t. My solution was to leave and start my own company. Worked like a charm.”

  “You made a good decision. Cheers.” She tapped her glass against his. “Here’s to survival. And to liquid courage.”

  “Salud.”

  “How exactly did you tell your family you were leaving? I’d love inspiration.”

  “Simple. I told them I was going off on my own. Not a bit of drama ensued.”

  She felt a sharp sting from biting her lip. “That’s awesome. I don’t think I’d have such an easy time.”

  He laughed. “I’m lying, of course. Extricating myself was quite the ordeal.”

  Lori burst out laughing. “Should I doubt everything you say? Is your name even Daniel?”

  “I would never kid about something as important as my name.”

  “I see.” She grinned back at him. “A man who knows his own identity and isn’t afraid to flaunt it.” Heat rushed up to her cheeks. Was she flirting? Definitely. How the hell was she pulling it off? What’s in this drink anyway? A secret concoction of hormones and mojo? Maybe this was typical of how introductions could be—when she wasn’t under her mother’s ever-hovering shadow.

  Lori fought off the memory of the last time she’d met an attractive man. Her mother had unexpectedly brought a potential new client around to her cubicle. Lori had been so nervous when she shook his hand, she knocked an entire cup of lukewarm coffee all over her white summer suit. The man’s beige blazer wasn’t neglected either. Horrified, she went to clean up the mess. Grabbing a napkin off the desk, she dabbed at his jacket. Unfortunately, she’s grabbed the napkin she had used for her doughnut. The man’s beige blazer shined from fresh grease. Twin stains of shame. “What the hell?” she had shouted, in full panic mode.

  Her mother had frowned. “Maybe if you didn’t constantly eat at your desk, these things wouldn’t happen.”

  “How is drinking coffee eating?” Lori protested. “Has coffee morphed into a solid somehow?”

  Her mother’s eyes traveled to the stale, damp, jelly doughnut swimming on her desk next to the overturned coffee cup. Powdered sugar particles lay
victim everywhere.

  Lori had quickly shut her mouth. Her mother and the gorgeous man walked away. His expression, like the condition of his sports coat, grim. Mom’s agitation radiated throughout the firm for the rest of the day. When her mother revealed Lori’s mishap cost the firm the business, Lori’s expression darkened, too. The result, every time her mother brought in a potential new client, Lori did her best to duck out of the office.

  Of course, hiding was nothing new. On the first day of kindergarten, Mom ran up to Lori’s new classmates, introducing Lori as if Lori were mute. The surprised children stared at them both until embarrassment truly rendered Lori dumb. No wonder she dreaded introductions like death.

  Weirdly, the introduction to Daniel was so easy, and so enticing, Lori fell right into it. Answering his amicable greeting had been easier than opening her eyes to a beautiful bright morning. Luckily, there had been no time to dwell on his too-handsome, ultra-sexy exterior.

  Given her introverted nature, the successful meeting with Daniel was an anomaly. Could an anomaly turn into an opportunity? She glanced around the ballroom in search of her mother.

  Chapter 3

  Daniel stared at the woman in front of him, completely in awe. It had been easy to single her out. A gorgeous woman standing by herself at the edge of the crowd. Her stunning appearance severely at odds with her awkward body language. She had fidgeted while watching the game of craps, twisting her fingers around in indecision. She was obviously an outsider who reluctantly wanted in. Observing instead of participating. And not being happy about it. The impact of her intense expression almost overwhelmed her petite frame. The fuchsia dress she wore highlighted sexy curves she hardly seemed aware of. Her big brown eyes darted around the room like a scared doe in the woods. Given her body language, he had expected her to be shy. He was pleasantly surprised by her humor and impressed with her charitable nature.

  For the life of him, he could not understand how a woman like this could be feeling self-conscious. Or, for that matter, how she could be alone. Everything about her sparkled. Her dress. Her personality. Even her face. When she smiled back at him, her bright eyes and generous lips gleamed. He wondered how old she was. Twenty-five, maybe. Not that much younger than his thirty-two years of age, although she obviously was a lot less experienced. Young, but still old enough to feel the tug of independence.

  “You don’t like your drink,” she said. “You hardly touched it. Is this your first bay breeze?”

  Daniel took another sip and quickly grimaced. “Yes, and the taste is way too girly for me.”

  Lori grinned. “Well, that makes sense, doesn't it? You got what I ordered, and I've got girly tastes.”

  “Touché. I should have anticipated disappointment. After all, I’m a man’s man.”

  “You’re an all-around tough guy, huh?” Her hand touched his bicep. She lightly traced his muscle. “Hardly makes you a superhero. How tough are you? Can you survive hurricane-force winds?”

  “Most likely.” He felt the corner of his lips twitch. For someone who seemed initially shy, Lori certainly had a lot of spirit. Suddenly, he was picturing her petite body without all the unnecessary fuchsia satin. Her fiery response was making him hot.

  “Can you withstand a flamethrower?” she challenged.

  Not for much longer. "Probably."

  “Ninja attack?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Suuure you can. I doubt you are as bullet-proof as you say. You must have a weakness. Confess.”

  He hesitated no more than a split second. “Right now, my only weakness is you.”

  Her eyes widened until she rolled them in jest. “Just because we're near the bar doesn’t mean you have to use pick-up lines.”

  “I never resort to pick-up lines. I don't need to.”

  “No? You’re king of the castle, huh?”

  “Which one? I have many castles.”

  She laughed. “I think one of them must be in Spain because you have a Castilian accent.”

  He was growing more impressed with her by the second. Not many people could nail it right. Usually, people relegated him to somewhere in South America. The last woman he had wanted to hop into bed with had asked whether he was from Brazil. He had politely corrected her and walked away. As much as he loved Brazil, there was no excuse for confusing the Spanish language with Portuguese. Not in his book anyway.

  How well-traveled was Lori? “You’ve got a good ear. Ever been to Spain?”

  “Sadly, no. I’m not a senior enough employee to travel internationally. One day I’ll visit Spain. I’ve always wanted to go. In fact, I studied Castilian Spanish in high school and college. My teachers always said I have a good ear.”

  “You speak Spanish. That’s wonderful.”

  “Er, no. I don’t speak it. But I can read and write Spanish fluently. I understand everything people say. My pronunciation, however, es muy mala.”

  Her pronunciation really was terrible; he crushed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing. He almost couldn’t stop himself. Mechanical cogs are more melodious. Her strangulation of his beloved language was more torture than anyone should endure. At minimum, he should be defensive on behalf of his native tongue. Somehow, though, her effort was endearing. Enough to endure the auditory assault.

  He watched her visibly wince from the garish sounds she made. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “That sounded terrible, didn’t it?”

  Yes. “No, of course not.”

  “You’re just trying to be nice. I know my accent is bad. As long as I stick to reading, writing, and listening to Spanish, I’m fabulous. I’m not sure why my mouth can’t make proper sounds.”

  A strange thought came to him. What if I could teach her? A few pointers on how to correctly pronounce the “ll” and “j” sounds would be a helpful start.

  “Your English is perfect,” she said. “Your Spanish accent is so subtle, it’s almost not there at all.”

  Her words had a magical effect, and they made his chest puff out. “Thank you. I went to boarding school in Great Britain. After that, I attended Columbia University.”

  “Wow. College in New York. Very cool.”

  “I loved being away at school. My parents joke I lost my Spanish accent.” He smirked. “My younger brother went to the same schools. My English accent, however, is better than his. I rub his nose in it. In revenge, he pronounces my name badly, just to annoy me. Daaan-yal.”

  She laughed. “Ah, family. You gotta love them. Or kill them.”

  “Why, kill, of course.”

  She burst out laughing. “You have a dark mind.”

  “You started it,” he pointed out. “Besides, if it’s all in jest, where’s the harm? Dark humor can brighten a bleak day.”

  “I’ll have to trust you on that. I’m a quiet person. Sarcasm is not usually my go-to tool.”

  “Okay. What’s your favorite coping mechanism for dealing with family?”

  “Um, getting silently pissed off and slinking away?”

  “Less fun than using sarcasm, I would think.”

  “Your way definitely has a more entertaining edge. One day, I think I’ll try it.”

  “No need to change your nature. I’m enjoying our conversation quite like it is.”

  A blush of color stained her beautiful face. Perhaps she was not used to getting a man’s attention. If so, he had no idea why. Maybe she was a little too quiet for her own good. He hoped his guess was right because that scenario would work out nicely for him. A shy personality wouldn’t attract any more suitors. Less people for him to fend off. Bueno.

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “I have homes in several places. I wasn’t kidding about the castles.”

  Her gaping mouth was adorable. Kissable too. He resisted th
e urge to lean over and kiss her. An inappropriate thing to do, no matter what his libido said. “Talking about such matters is tacky,” he said. “Come, let’s spend our time speaking about more interesting topics. Do you gamble?”

  “No. Never did. Unless you include drunken poker nights in college dorms.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like your time in college was much more exciting than mine. Let’s give the craps table a try, shall we?”

  “Sure.” Her stiff posture contradicted her confident tone, but she followed him nevertheless. He stole a backward glance to see her timid smile.

  While they walked, he stuck his hand in his tuxedo pocket to grab a couple of chips. A couple of thousand dollars should keep them both entertained for a while. With luck, he’d win some big bucks at the gaming table. The real bet, however, was on whether this beautiful woman was going to break out of her shell.

  Chapter 4

  Lori followed Daniel to the craps table. A large crowd gathered. Her plan was to hang back and watch. Learn the rules. Enjoy more conversation with Daniel. He seemed to be the type of person who wouldn’t mind answering stupid questions about the game. Maybe at some point she’d even try her luck at gambling.

  Of course, that day was not today. The worst thing that could happen this evening would be for someone to hand her the dice. Playing poker in college dorm rooms was one thing. Playing craps in an elegant casino, especially in front of people she wanted to impress, was quite different. Not gambling is the safest bet of all.

  Daniel edged his way to the table. She scooted closer to him. Suddenly, she found herself butted up against the table’s mahogany rim.

  “Ever play craps before?” Daniel asked her.