A Wedding in the Sun

Chapter 16

Adrián needed about a thousand hands and not just the one that was working properly. With Jo plastered to him, her arms curled around his neck and her mouth fastened on his, there were hundreds of ways he wanted to hold her, touch her. He settled for tangling his fingers in her hair as she tilted her head, sending a rush of wanting through him as the kiss caught fire.

His mind was full of her, fixated on the sound of her voice, the way she’d danced with her glass in her hand, how good she felt – brushing her lips down his neck. Oooh.

She swayed against him and he dipped his arm to hold her around her waist, catching her eye, expecting to see the same desire-induced light-headedness in her gaze. But she blinked, her movements oddly dull.

‘Bésame…’ she sang with a clipped giggle, ‘bésame mucho,’ she continued, lifting her chin.

‘Jo?’ he prompted with a gentle smile, amused, but also with a sinking heart. ‘Are you drunk?’

‘Aren’t you, too?’ She stretched up until her lips found his cheek and then skimmed to his earlobe, making his breath hitch. His back hit the doorframe as her fingers brushed over his beard and shadows played at the edge of his vision.

‘It wouldn’t make any difference if I was,’ he murmured with a sigh. Grasping her forearm gently, he tugged her hand away. ‘Jo, we don’t do this drunk.’

‘There’s no way we’re ever going to do this sober!’ she pointed out with an exaggerated bob of her head.

A laugh rose from deep in his chest. ‘Maybe you’re right, corazón,’ he said, blinking back surprise as the endearment tumbled out unintentionally. ‘But I don’t want to face you tomorrow if you regret sleeping with me.’

‘I won’t regret it,’ she said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone and curling her arms around him again. His head fell against the wall with a thud as he gathered himself to resist the endorphins flooding his system from her touch. ‘Tomorrow can go to hell.’

That made him freeze and she wasn’t drunk enough to miss the change. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder.

‘Shit,’ she whispered. ‘It’s already tomorrow, isn’t it?’

He skimmed his palm up her spine, breathing out heavily when she relaxed, her head still nestled into him. ‘Yes,’ he said as gently as he could.

‘Ben can go to hell, too,’ she mumbled, ‘for turning my life into this.’

Adrián stared at the ceiling as he tucked her against him with his good arm, unable to resist settling his left hand on her back too, despite a twinge of pain. ‘You were beautiful tonight.’

‘Shut up,’ she responded with a sniff. ‘I’m trying to get through the self-pity, if it’s already tomorrow and we’re not going to have sex and make it all go away.’

Ouch, it had definitely been the right thing to put a stop to the kissing. ‘That’s okay. Let it out.’ He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, lingering there when the scent of closeness, the tickle of her hair on his lips calmed him. ‘I could hold you all night,’ he said with a sigh that sounded like a purr.

She stilled against him, strength seeping away. ‘Then do it,’ she said, her voice muffled against his skin. ‘Don’t leave me alone tonight.’

‘I won’t,’ he promised softly, easing her up. ‘But let’s get you to bed.’

‘Why do you have more muscles than Ben?’ she mused, her fingers tracing his chest. He grasped her hand to still it, pressing another light kiss to her knuckles, unsure if she needed an answer. ‘You’re not that much younger than him, you know – younger than me. But you’re hot. God, I sound like Liss looking at pictures of Harry Styles.’

He gulped, going in for another attempt to dislodge her.

‘It used to annoy me how attractive you are.’

Distracting her by asking, ‘And now?’ he urged her gently in the direction of the bed with his good arm around her waist.

‘You don’t annoy me any more,’ she said, her expression oddly serious. She allowed him to shepherd her into bed, her head hitting the pillow heavily. ‘I mean, you do annoy me. You drive me crazy. But… I kind of like it.’

‘Let me get you some water,’ he said, patting her bare shoulder.

‘Don’t need water,’ she said, settling restlessly on the bed. ‘I’m a sober drunk,’ she explained with a straight face, her eyes popping open.

His lips twitched. ‘Very sober. You nearly fooled me, but not quite. I’ll be back in a minute.’

It was a struggle to get her to drink the water, but he suspected she’d thank him for it in the morning – hopefully not the only thing she’d thank him for. She was a stubborn and bitter drunk – and vulnerable. But she’d asked him to stay. If she needed to be weak for a moment, he would shield her from the world.

She dropped into a deep sleep quickly, facing the window. Adrián climbed into bed behind her, propping himself up on his good elbow to study the way her hair curled around her ear and her arms stretched in front of her in exhaustion.

He could see her bird tattoo in the faint moonlight shining through the gauzy curtains. A hummingbird, that’s what it was. He brushed a thumb over the ink, frustrated when his shoulder twinged again.

Leaning close, he pressed a quick kiss to her skin, over the tattoo, and then flopped back onto his own side of the bed to try to get some sleep.

It was the heat that woke him the next day, simmering over his skin. He rolled over, but that only turned the bed into a rotisserie oven – and brought him into contact with another roasting body. Sitting up quickly, he gasped when a shot of pain tore through his shoulder. If the nurse hadn’t warned him it would stiffen up, he might have worried it was getting worse and he’d need surgery.

Jo mumbled something and rolled onto her stomach, her face squashed into the pillow. He couldn’t resist brushing her hair off her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead before he fumbled for his phone on the nightstand.

What he saw on the screen had him leaping out of bed in alarm and calling, ‘Jo!’ over his shoulder as he searched for his shirt – and didn’t find it. ‘Jo, wake up!’ She still didn’t rouse beyond a mumble, so he came around to her side of the bed and shook her, too rattled to worry about being gentle.

‘What?’ she grumbled, pushing herself up and slapping a hand over her eyes with a grimace. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

A shiver of unease ran down his spine. ‘It’s eleven o’clock!’

‘In the morning?’ she asked, her voice raspy. ‘God, I feel like shit.’

‘Yes, in the morning!’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘We have to get moving if we’re going to collect the guitar and then drive all the way to Pe?íscola!’

‘Right, okay. Oh, God, I think I need some of your painkillers.’

‘Will you be okay to drive?’ he asked.

‘I’ll have to be.’

‘Maybe I?—’

‘You are not driving with your arm in a sling. That car is a manual.’

‘Mierda, I can’t drive a manual anyway.’

It was her turn to stare up at the ceiling and sigh. ‘Maybe I’ll feel better after a shower,’ she said, hauling herself to her feet.

‘We don’t have time?—’

‘I’ll be quick,’ she promised.

When she emerged from the hallway ten minutes later, he’d resigned himself to the delay and had made two coffees to go with the breakfast Mercedes had set out for them before she left for work. ‘Here,’ he said, gesturing to her coffee.

‘You’re my hero, thank you,’ Jo said with a groan as she lifted the cup to her nose and inhaled deeply. He couldn’t quite stifle a smile at her words and she pinned him with a look. ‘Don’t get used to it.’

‘Why not? I’m not regularly your hero?’

‘You can’t even dress yourself at the moment,’ she said, glancing pointedly at his bare chest.

‘This is my hero suit.’ He very much deserved that eye-roll. ‘Actually, I couldn’t find my button-down shirt and I can’t get any of the others on.’

‘You can’t find it? Isn’t it—’ He saw the moment she remembered what had happened in the hallway last night. Her pinched expression made him very glad they hadn’t taken things any further. ‘On the floor in the hallway?’ she said through clenched teeth.

Adrián shook his head. ‘I assume Mercedes cleaned it up.’

‘I’m sorry if I put you in a difficult position with your mentor and his family,’ Jo said.

He shook his head immediately. ‘Don’t apologise to me, Jo. I wanted everything that happened last night and Carles had already guessed that there was an… attraction between us. None of this is anyone’s fault. Let’s get down to the wedding and…’

‘And…’ she agreed grimly.

‘I saved you some toast,’ he said, waving his hand over the plate, but Jo’s eyes zeroed in on the empty bowl next to it.

‘For God’s sake, Adrián, how much watermelon have you eaten over the past two days?’

He gave a sheepish shrug. ‘It takes me back to childhood – the seeds, the sticky, sweet juice on my face. I hope someone is giving Oscar watermelon.’

Her hand landed on his arm. ‘We’ll see them today.’

He covered her hand with his own, tracing circles on the back with his thumb. She stiffened but didn’t draw away. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was: they wouldn’t be allowed to touch casually like this once they arrived for the wedding.

‘I’ll just wrap up some toast in a serviette,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Let’s go.’

Jo’s stomach roiled as she turned the little Corsa back in the direction of Figueres and south to Girona. All the hairpin curves made her feel as though her thoughts separated from her body for a moment and she had to blink away the lapse in concentration.

She was never drinking again. Or perhaps she should have drunk more. At least that way she might not have remembered in sparkling detail throwing herself at Adrián and having him act as the voice of reason and then as her verbal punching bag as she lost it over Ben – a usual occurrence when she was tipsy.

The craziest thing was, she still regretted that they hadn’t slept together. Yes, it was a little weird that she’d gone on about how much nicer Adrián’s chest was than Ben’s, but they were already bound by embarrassing moments. They could have gone a round between the sheets, just to see if it worked.

Then she was back to never drinking again, because if she hadn’t drunk so much last night, he wouldn’t have had a reason to stop. Her brain nearly shut down when she started imagining what might have happened if he hadn’t been so scrupulous. It was a miracle that she’d believed it might be good – an even bigger miracle that she still thought so.

Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising, given the way she reacted to the tiny gestures of tenderness he handed out, seemingly unintentionally. The brush of his lips over her tattoo had been the most breath-stealing moment of the last decade and she couldn’t believe she’d nearly slept through it.

Adrián had kissed that old tattoo that she’d nearly had lasered off at least ten times. Ben had referred to it as the ‘mistake of your youth’ with what she’d thought was fond tolerance, but it had probably been concealed contempt.

She took a curve a little too fast and gripped the wheel more firmly.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Adrián asked. ‘The last thing we need right now is a car accident.’

No, I’m just reliving the feel of your lips on my skin and it’s hell on my concentration.‘I’m fine,’ she snapped. ‘Nobody needs a car accident – at any time.’

She paused at a roundabout, making sure she looked in the opposite direction to her instincts. Pulling onto a wider road, she took a deep breath. She could do this. What was a little hangover and a bit of sexual tension for a capable woman?

The air-conditioning of the little Corsa – such as it was – couldn’t make a dent in the midday swelter as they headed inland, skirting Figueres. Adrián fiddled with the ancient radio until he found a station playing pop music and the distraction made the heat slightly more bearable, especially when ‘Like a Prayer’ came on and all Jo had to do was meet Adrián’s eye for them to giggle like a pair of kids, both of them thinking of Madonna and Our Lady of Lourdes.

‘I’ve had this song in my head since the flight landed,’ Jo admitted. ‘You know that’s the name of her daughter: Lourdes.’

‘Is that why I’ve had it in my head too?’ Adrián exclaimed, slapping his thigh. ‘You’ve been humming it.’

‘Maybe you’ve been humming it and that’s why it’s in my head,’ she said defensively.

‘Nope, you’ve been humming,’ he said with a smile. ‘Like a hummingbird.’ He winked at her, sending goosebumps along her skin. ‘Does it mean anything? The tattoo?’

‘No,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Not a thing. I just wanted a tattoo and liked the picture in the catalogue. I was only twenty-one.’

‘You were brave, when you were twenty-one.’

‘Or stupid,’ she commented.

‘Either way, it’s yours now,’ Adrián said lightly. ‘I like it.’

I know. ‘I like it too,’ she said, her grin fixed on her face. She glanced at him and then back at the road ahead of her. Her headache had ebbed with the painkillers, she was freshly caffeinated, charged up on their own special variety of banter. ‘It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?’ she said softly. ‘Today.’

‘Yes, it’s going to be okay.’

But perhaps Adrián shouldn’t have promised something he couldn’t deliver.