Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Grace spoke little at dinner, instead opting to listen intently to every word that came out of Rafael’s mouth.
He had a way about him, this charm, and she couldn’t help but be washed away with his words, caught up in his tales of celebrity clients and extravagant fundraising events.
He talked about the city, too, and his descriptions were so full of excitement and affection that Grace wanted to go exploring even more.
She remembered this side of him from when he’d answered all of her questions about the Alhambra or even when he’d suggested tapas at a restaurant.
He had this confidence and this knowledge that made you want to hang on his every word.
Unfortunately, Grace was so focused on Rafael’s words that when Nora or Julian started contributing to the conversation, she was lost in another world, still thinking about him.
Honestly, for all Alma had warned her about him, Grace was still waiting for Rafael to turn the full force of his charm in her direction—to make any kind of move on her at all.
He’d called her beautiful back at the apartment, of course.
The word had sparked through her like she’d stuck her pinky finger in an electric socket.
For a brief moment she wondered if it might be the start of something, some kind of foray into seduction, Rafael dipping in a toe to test the waters.
But once they’d started walking to the restaurant, he was all business.
He kept his distance and barely even glanced in her direction.
Even in the moments when she expected Rafael to charm her pants off a little more, he was restrained.
He was thoughtful and honest in their conversation about the caves, for example.
He’d even seemed a little flustered, no hint of the smooth talker that was now regaling Nora and Julian of tales of La Chica De Ayer and late-night extravaganzas at La Quaracha, of designing the spaces and the place-settings, curating menus and choosing invitations, taking charge of every fantastic evening from start to finish.
As he settled further into the dinner conversation, clearly more comfortable by the minute, his second glass of wine swirling in his right hand, Rafael eased back and rested his arm on the back of her chair.
It wasn’t on her exactly, but she could feel the warmth of his bicep against her shoulder, and even though it was the lightest of touches, the heat started to build and spread everywhere, in her belly and her toes, in her core.
Grace tried not to think about it. She tried not to feel it the way she did, the heat from his skin radiating through her entire body.
She’d already taken too much notice of the way he’d removed his jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves up his forearms. She’d already clocked the dark little hairs that coated those forearms when he’d hung his jacket over his chair.
She didn’t know why she couldn’t seem to focus on anything else.
Grace took a sip of water and forced herself to remember his less attractive qualities.
He was so infuriating sometimes. How could he not consider the entire complex history of the place where they’d decided to stage their little exhibition?
It was like the past oppression of marginalized people had never even crossed his mind.
But then he listened to her when she brought it up.
Really listened and seemed to want to change their strategy, like he was taking what she said to heart and hated that he’d upset her.
He truly appeared shaken by the revelation, in a way she hadn’t expected.
She’d thought he would just brush it off without taking her seriously for even a moment.
Not for the first time, she was remembering that this Rafael was a different man than the one she’d known ten years ago.
Maybe her first impression had been completely off, or maybe Rafael really had changed.
He’d grown into this intelligent, impressive person who laughed at her jokes, who held her in the night when she was devastated, who respected her and wanted to hear her opinions.
He definitely had not cared for her opinion ten years ago when she was making a bunch of dick jokes, but now it seemed like her ideas mattered to him, and she liked it.
As much as she didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—she liked him.
“You’ll have to see that, Grace, I don’t think you’ve been there yet,” Rafael said, and Grace realized she was still completely tuned out of the conversation.
She nodded absently. “Of course. I want to see it all.” Her voice sounded more wistful and longing than she would have liked.
He removed his arm from her chair, and she mourned the loss of the minimal contact, but then he placed a hand on her thigh instead. “You okay?” he asked.
Grace swallowed. She wanted to rub her face against the nape of his neck.
She wanted to put her hand over his on her thigh and guide it up to just the right spot.
She wanted to bite his bottom lip until he made sounds she could only imagine.
Probably none of that was okay to be thinking about, and she wasn’t sure where the hell it was coming from.
Suddenly, it was like the person she thought of as Alma’s older brother, and the person she thought of as Rafael, her Rafael, were entirely different people, and one of them was entirely too appealing.
“Yes, sorry, I just totally zoned out for a minute.”
Nora grinned and put a hand to her chest. “A woman after my own heart. I’m a total zoner-outer.”
Grace gave her a grateful smile. “I honestly don’t know how to stop it from happening.”
She tried not to visibly react when Rafael removed his hand from her thigh. “Your brain is too busy,” he said, turning toward his dinner.
She hoped he had no idea what was going on in her busy brain. She was relieved to have a break from the constant swirl of thoughts that usually consumed her—death and loss and loneliness—but the ferocity with which her mind had latched on to this attraction to the man beside her was concerning.
From then on, Grace was determined to stay focused.
She jumped into the conversation with both feet, asking all kinds of questions about Nora’s job and the places she’d been.
Grace could act normal, as if she couldn’t feel the occasional brush of Raf’s thigh against her own. All she had to do was ignore it.
She liked Nora and Julian and was glad to have met them, even if she wasn’t entirely certain of her purpose at this dinner.
It seemed like Nora had gotten what she came for, though, and they’d all enjoyed each other’s company.
Nora even mentioned she would be in Spain for a while, and they exchanged numbers.
It was nice to have a new friend, someone who could relate to the fish-out-of-water feeling that crept over Grace on the days when she was lost on the edge of town, trying to remember which street led toward Raf’s apartment.
It was clear the evening was winding down, and it felt precarious, somehow.
Grace got the sense that she was about to say or do something entirely foolish, that being left alone with Rafael after spending so much time focused on his mouth at dinner was a very dangerous thing.
It was serendipitous when the live band started to play after their meal.
Everyone seemed eager to linger then, as if unwilling to miss out on hearing the beat of the music as it pumped through the restaurant.
Soon, other patrons were rising from their tables and rushing to the dance floor by the little stage.
Julian stuck out a hand to Nora, inviting her to dance as well.
Nora grinned up at him, full of delight.
“We’ll be right back,” she said, and Grace continued watching them as they started to dance, ignoring the sudden realization that she was alone at the table with Rafael.
She was alone with him all the time. She lived with him.
She didn’t know why it should be any different while they were at some kind of work-related dinner, but it was.
She was aware of his every movement, every time his fingers twitched, every time his thigh shifted.
He took a sip of water and looked over at her. Her instinct was to avert her eyes, to hide, but she didn’t. She swayed a bit with the music, and he bit his lip, and they were still just staring at each other.
“Do you—uh.” He cleared his throat and gestured toward Nora and Julian. “Do you want to dance?”
Grace glanced back at the dance floor, how the couples were twisting around, spinning and then pressing their bodies together, intertwining their fingers.
Dancing required a lot of touching. She wanted to, and she also didn’t.
“Sure,” she said, before she’d even decided to say it.
It was as if her mouth had made up her mind without consulting her brain.
Rafael raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t quite believe her. “We don’t have to.”
She looked down at her hands and tried to collect her thoughts. It was just a dance. At a work dinner. “No, we should. I like the music.”
He took her hand, and she trailed after him until they joined the other couples.
Nora gave her a little nod and another knowing glance, and Grace shrugged as if to say he’s too hot to resist. She knew Alma would have disapproved of the whole thing—the dinner and the dancing, the moment when Rafael had placed a hand on her thigh, but Grace forgot all about her promise to heed Alma’s warning when Raf’s palm warmed her hip, when he clutched her fingers and spun her in a circle, when he pressed her back against his front and swayed to the beat.
Was Rafael simply so good at seducing women that you didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late? Or was he just being polite, asking her to dance because everyone else was doing it, and he was a well-bred gentleman?