‘No.’ He could see the taut outline of her nipples under the clinging fabric of her top and he had to stop himself pushing her against the side of the lift and taking her in the most primitive way possible. His whole body ached with the strength of his arousal and he closed his eyes and tried to apply logic to the situation.

He was about to walk across a hotel lobby in full view of a large number of staff, not to mention guests, and if he didn’t think about something other than Katy spread beneath him then he was going to be arrested.

‘So where are we going?’

How could she be so totally unaware of the effect she had on him? Was she really still as innocent as she’d been at eighteen? Jago gritted his teeth and concentrated hard on the buttons of the lifts. Surely they were suitably boring?

‘I’m taking you to see the real Seville.’

The lift doors opened and Jago ran a hand through his dark hair, feeling thoroughly out of control. His feelings intensified as he intercepted the appreciative male stares that Katy received as they walked out of the hotel. Growling under his breath, Jago took her hand possessively.

The down side of her looking so stunning was that everyone else thought she looked stunning, too. For the first time he had some understanding as to why she chose to conceal her beauty. Katy could stop traffic in the dark.

They walked for a short distance and then he pushed open the door of a well-known bar.

Katy looked at him in confusion. ‘Are we eating here?’

Jago laughed. ‘This is a tapas bar, querida. In Spain we eat dinner late in the evening. Tapas is a way of preventing us from dying of hunger. It’s an integral part of Spanish culture.’

‘Oh.’ She looked interested and pleased and settled herself on a stool by the bar, looking round her with wide-eyed enthusiasm. ‘I’ve had tapas in London but I don’t suppose it’s the same thing.’

‘Similar, but each bar here will have its own speciality,’ he told her, gesturing to some of the dishes that kept appearing.

‘Translate, please.’ She looked at him expectantly and he fought the impulse to kiss her.

That was going to have to wait until they were back in the privacy of their hotel.

With considerable difficulty he turned his attention to the food. ‘Do you trust me to order?’

She nodded and he spoke in rapid Spanish, selecting a number of dishes that he thought she’d enjoy.

‘This is a variety of olive grown in Seville,’ he told her, lifting an olive towards her soft mouth. ‘It’s called Manzanilla.’

She tasted it and smiled. ‘It’s delicious.’

‘And this is Chorizo—a spicy sausage.’

Katy nodded. ‘I’ve seen it in the supermarket at home.’

‘Not the same,’ Jago assured her with an exaggerated shudder. ‘This is fat and juicy, try it.’

She chewed slowly and he suppressed a groan as he watched her lips move. Food became unbearably erotic when Katy was involved.