My dreams were coming true, one by one, slowly but surely. It had been happening at such a rate that it took a bit of convincing-on my part mostly-that this project chose me because it was my due, and not because of my association with River.
The hotel was situated right on the beach, on a beautifully scenic cove. Though from the view of my hotel room, the sand was almost pure white, quite different from the ones I was used to in Santa Monica. I knew why this location was chosen. It was truly breathtaking. It gave off that pristine ambiance, still untouched, unblemished from commercial development.
Everyone was staying in this charming boutique beachfront hotel. We occupied two floors. One floor catered to the cast and the second was for the entire crew. My room was a one-bedroom suite. A king-sized bed, a Spartan sofa, and a lot of dark wood and earth tone accents. It also had a beautifully laid out brown tiled bathroom with a massive bathtub. What I adored was the gorgeous view from the balcony.
I breathed in the sweet, salty air, excited to meet everyone tomorrow. And just as I happily twirled around the room, there was a loud knock at the door, pausing my joyous demeanor.
I halted and blinked a few times just to make sure I wasn't hearing things. Then another loud rap came, vanishing any doubts.
Who could this be? It can't be River … or could it?
Barefoot with my electric blue painted toes, I tiptoed towards the door with a massive grin already forming on my face.
Gripping the handle, I yanked the door open and was greeted by a complete stranger.
"Hola!" the tall dark, very tanned, handsome man welcomed me with such warm enthusiasm that I felt bad for staring at him blankly. "I'm Juan Torres. I heard you arrived today. I was wondering if you could join me for dinner since, you know, we'll be spending a lot of time together. I think it's good that we get over the awkwardness now than later," he drawled with a heavy Spanish, accented English that reminded me so much of Enrique Iglesias. A sexy sound that did all sorts of things to a woman's anatomy. It couldn't be denied that it gave his appeal another level of sexiness.
His wavy locks that came down to his chin were wet, as if he had just come out of the shower, framing his chiseled face to perfection.
Was this how they bred men around here? Goodness gracious me …
My throat ran dry.
This was the man I would be filming with almost daily? His pictures didn't do him justice. Satan sure was having a field day with me.
Feeling conscious in my simple jeans and white top, I stared at Juan Torres with guarded reservation. "Dinner?" I croaked out.
When was the last time I ate? Come to think of it, I couldn't remember. My palms began to sweat as I tried to smile at this newly acquired acquaintance.
Should I invite him in or would that come across as forward? This was another country with a different set of rules. I didn't want to come across rude or too wild. I guessed the best bet was for this guy to stay where he was.
"Sí. I was informed you checked in. This is my country, and I feel it my obligation to properly welcome you." He grinned, showing an even smile lighting his face up. "We'll talk over dinner. There's a restaurant close by. You might like it. You know Spanish food?"
I knew tacos and burritos, but that's Mexican. Spanish food? I had no fucking clue what that entailed. Did that make me ignorant? As much as I loved food, I hadn't been all that adventurous about it. Something told me that the duration of my stay here would fix that problem.
Placing my hands in my pocket, I appeared calm and laidback, though I felt the opposite.
Juan Torres had that compelling energy about him. The kind that drew people in. It wasn't merely about his dark good looks but the way his eyes penetrated you when he directed his attention to you and in the way he spoke. It was as if all you wanted to do was lean in and hear him drawl in that accented voice of his.
Yes, unsettling was putting it mildly.
It was perturbing on how I was reacting to this stranger. What was more disconcerting was that this man would soon know me intimately, and that last truthful bit made me quiver a little.
Juan regarded me with that look, the kind that did all sorts of bad things to one's mind, to one's libido.
Was this how he was going to be on set? Or was this how he functioned-a walking, talking sex on legs, pheromone magnet?
Darting my tongue out, I wetted my bottom lip as my sight dropped to his toned legs that even his faded jeans couldn't hide. "I'm sure you'll be excellent in helping me sort my lack of knowledge in Spanish cuisine. Just give me the name of the place and directions, and I'll meet you there."
"I can wait here. I don't mind it." That easy, charming smile hadn't wavered from his face.