"You're the hotel gigolo, then? I haven't enough money to afford you, I'm sure. You look expensive."
"Was that a compliment? But no, not the hotel gigolo. That's the fellow in the straw hat by the door. The old women look for him. You should never have need of his services."
Eve glanced over at the door. A very handsome man flirted with an older matronly woman judging by her batting at his arm as if he had said something naughty. Tall with wide shoulders filling out his linen suit handsomely. Chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw, molten dark eyes and wonderfully full lips. He must make a lot of money.
"How much do you think he would charge for a wedding on short notice?"
His eyebrows furrowed. "You need to get married?"
Drawing in a sharp breath, Eve almost choked at the thought. "No, to attend a wedding. I've been planning this vacation with my friends for two years and my former fiancé is here with his new fiancée. They are to be married tomorrow and he invited me."
"Ahh." With that one word, he expressed everything, understanding, sympathy even. "If you will permit me, I will take you. Everyone knows who he is. It would not have the effect you hope it will."
"And you would have a better effect?" Dear God, he sure would. Her mouth suddenly ran dry.
"Undoubtedly."
"What qualifications do you have then? You aren't the gigolo or the cheering committee. Could you pull it off?" That was like putting a red flag in front of a bull. His hands slid far from their proper position, cupping each hip as they danced. Gentle fingers skimmed up the length of her back and she tried not to sigh. She tried not to kiss the man then and there, with his hands holding either side of her neck and his thumbs caressing her cheeks.
"Would it not work better if the man you find was actually interested in you rather than in payment? My first qualification would be that I am surely interested, querida." He spun her unexpectedly.
Bill and Rose sat at the front table, watching a very handsome man making love to Eve under the guise of dancing.
"He's right there," she gasped in horror. She was spun back around as her partner glanced around carelessly.
"Him? He has the face of a weasel. It is better you did not end up marrying him."
Lowering her head, Eve laughed. "Well, perhaps."
"You hide your smile. How will I know if I'll melt?"
Her bare back grew warmer as his hands settled at the curve of her waist. Maybe her hips were safe, but this was skin-to-skin contact now. Eve was going to kill Marianne. She had modified her dress, removing the puff sleeves and cutting out the back. Marianne hadn't thought it was daring enough for Havana, land of 'anything goes.' Eve gasped as his fingers slid beneath the fabric.
