Kaya

When I returned to our table, I had two orders of fresh chips, separate containers of salsa and guac, a container of fresh chocolate chip cookies, two bottles of fresh iced tea and two bottles of water. I hadn't had the foresight to take one of my reusable totes with me when I left the table, so I wound up having to buy another. Alejandro took it from me as I slid into the chair across from where he'd been seated.

He unpacked the bag with quick efficiency and set everything out in the middle of the table. Alejandro was handsome in a way that made it impossible to ignore him. I was tempted to touch his exposed skin to see if it was as warm as it looked. Everything about him was off-the-charts hot.

“These smell incredible,” he said as he pulled the cover off the double order of chips I’d gotten.

I nodded and bit my lip as I pretended to look the food over and tried to collect my wits. What smelled incredible to me was Alejandro's cologne, which wasn't like anything I'd come across before. It was a combination of something woodsy and something spicy with a hint of pineapple.

“Am I smelling cilantro on these chips?” he asked.

I nodded as my eyes went from his ridiculously sexy forearms to his too blue eyes. “Unless you say otherwise when you order the chips are sprinkled with fresh chopped cilantro and sea salt when they come out of the fryer. I hope that’s okay—I probably should’ve asked before I went to get the food. I know not everyone loves cilantro.”

Alejandro chuckled as he extracted a chip and dipped it into the guacamole. “One of my favorite dishes is the tortilla española my mamá makes. It’s eggs, cheddar cheese, tomatoes, onions and cilantro that is fried in olive oil.”

“A breakfast burrito, right?” I asked as I dunked a warm chip into the fresh salsa.

He shook his head as he chewed his chip. After swallowing—I watched with far too much interest in the way his throat moved as he did—he answered. "There is no tortilla in the dish. Here you would call tortilla española an omelet. It's one of those things that gets lost a little in translation from Spain to America."

That answered my unasked question about what country he was from. “What part of Spain were you born in?”

“Barcelona,” he answered with a smile.

Since he was so fluent in Spanish and English, I assumed he had probably moved to the states as a young child.

“When did you move to America?”

He shook his head. "I didn't ever move here full time. I came to America for college. Since graduation, I have spent up to four months of the year in Los Angeles or New York. I like it here, but Spain is in my blood." His voice was full of pride, and the smile on his face spoke of a love of his country.

“You speak English so fluently I assumed you’d moved here at some point,” I explained.

“Ah, I see,” he said as his lips quirked into a smile. “My brothers and I all attended an American school in Barcelona. I am thankful that my parents wanted us to be bilingual.”

“What about your parents?” I asked, curious. “Are they also bilingual?”

“Yes. They both speak English and Spanish, but my father is also fluent in French. What about you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Do you speak any other languages, Kaya?”

Every time he said my name my heart skipped a beat. If I were the type to swoon or get weak in the knees—I assured myself I most definitely was not the type, thank you very much—the way he said my name would’ve been my kryptonite.

"I don't," I answered with a shake of my head. "I took Spanish in junior high but to be honest, I remember almost none of it. I was lucky to squeak out of the classes with a C average, which was just enough for me to pass. I didn't take a language when I got to high school. In retrospect, I realize I probably should have, but I was frustrated by the less-than-stellar experience in ninth grade."

“I’m happy to teach you any Spanish you want to know,” he offered huskily.

I blushed and looked away because the feeling of his gaze on me had caused my nipples to harden. Again.

"I'm sure you have better things to do with your vacation than teaching the girl next door how to speak Spanish," I quipped.

“Nothing would make me happier than helping you with whatever you would like to learn. I think I would be a good teacher to you.”

In my mind's eye, I imagined Alejandro trailing his fingers across my skin as he taught me how he liked to make love. I sputtered out a cough as I twisted the cap off my water and took several gulps in the hopes of dousing the fire that was blazing inside of me.

“We’ll see,” I croaked.

His eyes were full of mirth as he grinned at me—almost like he knew what I was thinking. I hoped that wasn't the case since my thoughts were far too steamy to share.

“I’ll teach you something now. Say hoy ha sido perfecto.”

“Hoy ha sido perfecto,” I parroted softly.

Alejandro nodded his head with approval. “Nailed it,” he said proudly.

“What did I say?”

“You said today is perfect, something I hope we can both agree on in any language, Belleza.”

“And that means?” I asked.

“Something for me to know and you to find out, once you let me teach you more Spanish.”

The grin on his face caused my core to clench. What was it about Alejandro Cruz that made my body desire things I’d long been able to ignore?

I shrugged to feign indifference. "You can't be in town for long. It would hardly make sense for you to waste your vacation time on me."

“You’ll be happy to know that I’m here indefinitely,” he answered.

My already racing pulse picked up speed. He wasn't going anywhere, and I had a strong feeling I wouldn't be able to avoid him.

“Summer vacation?”

I couldn’t miss the look of amusement on his face as he opened the container of cookies and passed one over to me.

"Something like that. The rest of my family will arrive in about two weeks, and they'll stay for about a week, but Rafe and I will be staying for most of the summer. I spend a month at the LA office when I'm here anyway, so it made sense to draw this trip out. Rafe works from home unless he's got meetings, which means he can work anywhere. I won't be on vacation the entire time I'm here—I'll be going to the office for half days this week—but whenever possible I will work from home.

“What do you do?” I blurted.

His devilish grin told me he was plotting something.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said after a pause. “If you tell me what your YouTube channel is called, I’ll tell you what I do. Let’s make it an even exchange of information.”

My fingers weren’t quite steady as I set my cookie onto the napkin in front of me.

I ducked my chin, knowing my face had flooded with color. “It’s embarrassing,” I mumbled.

“You put the videos up on a site that millions of people could see,” he pointed out. “Why does telling me the name embarrass you?”

The honest answer was that it was him. I didn't want him to look at my videos and think of me as stupid or somehow less than. The production quality on my channel was good, but it wasn't Oscar-caliber. I took a deep breath and swallowed before answering. "Kaya's Korner. Emery suggested that it would be cute if I spelled corner with a K, so I did."

Alejandro grinned and set his iced tea back down on the table. “It is cute,” he nodded. “What was your last video about?”

I chuckled as I crumbled some of my cookie between my fingers and watched the crumbs rain down on my napkin. “I made some cakes in a jar.”

He took another sip of his tea and cocked his head. “What kind of cakes?”

“Pumpkin cheesecake, s’mores supreme, a mint chocolate poke cake, almond poppy seed, apple honey and crème brûlée.

I couldn't believe he looked interested. "How many did you make of each?"

“I make six of each.”

His brow wrinkled with confusion. “Why so many?”

"Inevitably a few in each batch aren't quite camera ready, and I only use the best looking samples for the channel. When there's a crack in the top or the icing is weird looking, I move on."

"You've got to have at least a few leftovers, yeah? Because there's no way, you ate thirty-six cakes in a jar."

“Well, I used six for samples, threw four away that didn’t look good enough to do anything with and ate two. So, yes—I’ve got a few left.”

His blue eyes sparkled when he smiled. “What I’m hearing is that a whole lot of cakes in a jar are calling out from your kitchen. They may as well have my name on them, Kaya. May I try some?”

My stomach fluttered like he'd just told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world. I'd hoped that spending time with him would blunt his effect on me, but if anything the opposite was happening. The discomfort I'd felt with him at first was fading away, but in its place, my attraction to him was only growing stronger.

I bit my lower lip as an idea took hold in my head. If I could keep myself busy around him, I was sure the attraction would fade away.

“You can—if you’ll do something for me,” I said slowly.

"I'm easy, Kaya. You tell me what to do to make you happy, and I'll do it."

I swore there was another meaning behind his words, but I didn’t want to look at it too closely.

“Let me film your reaction for the channel,” I blurted nervously. “I know it seems silly but people like when I add footage of people tasting what I make. You don’t have to—”

“I’ll do it.”

I was stunned that he’d agreed. Honestly, I’d been fully prepared for him to say no. Alejandro was kind, but not everyone would react positively to being asked to appear in a fluffy YouTube video.

I raised an eyebrow at him as a thought occurred to me. “Some people drag their feet about being in front of a camera unless they have experience. You didn’t even hesitate, which makes me wonder. Are you an actor?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Nope.”

Hmm. Maybe I’d been right in my first assessment. “Model?”

He laughed harder. “No. You’re way off. I work in—”

I held out both of my hands in the universal gesture that meant stop. "Wait! Don't tell me. Let me ask you seven questions, and then I'll try to guess what business you're in. I'm good at solving things by asking a few key things."

“Isn’t the game twenty questions?” he chuckled.

I shook my head. “Some people need twenty. I only ever need between five and seven.”

“Are you a sore loser? Because even if I gave you forty questions, I don’t think you’d be able to guess correctly,” he teased.

That only made me want to figure it out on my own even more.

“I don’t normally lose. If I do, I’ll survive—but don’t count me out just yet.”

“Okay then.”

“Ready?” I asked.

Alejandro leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“First I have to figure out if you work with your hands or not.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Is that a question?”

Darn, he hadn’t fallen for it. Normally people volunteered the information. I wrinkled my nose and looked him over. “Let me see them.”

He sat up and uncrossed his arms before extending them out to allow me to see his hands. When I reached forward and took his right hand in mine, I blew out a slow breath. His skin was warm, and his hands were soft yet firm. It wasn't exactly surprising that Alejandro was strong considering how exceptional his physique was, but the strength I could feel in his hands was unexpectedly arousing. I quickly studied his nails and cuticles before pulling my hands back to sever the connection.

"You don't work with your hands. No hammering, sawing or anything that involves frequent washing like painting, ceramics or even anything medical."

His expression was perfectly schooled, giving nothing away. “You’re cheating by trying to get information with observations instead of questions,” he teased.

I gave him my most innocent looking smile. “Who, me?”

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and for just a second I swore I saw an expression of desire on his face, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by an affable grin.

When he spoke his voice was husky, his Spanish accent a bit thicker than usual. “Yes, you. I don’t think you can figure it out with just seven questions, Kaya.”

I shrugged my shoulders and raised my hands. “Alright, alright, you caught me. But don’t get too cocky, Mr. Cruz. I’ve got my questions all lined up. Prepare to be amazed.”

Alejandro inclined his head toward me. “Do your best, Miss Porter.”

I tapped my index finger against my lips as I considered what I knew about Alejandro. Aside from the fact that he was unbelievably good looking—and that he somehow made me feel like I was dealing with my first crush—the one thing I knew with absolute certainty was that he was wealthy. That was a no-brainer, considering that the family vacation home had to have cost at least twenty million dollars, and that was a conservative estimate.

Other things I knew were that he was from a large family and his parents had not spoiled their sons rotten with high-end cars as soon as they could drive. I knew he'd gone to college because he'd mentioned living in America during that time. I decided a good bet was to find out where he'd gone to school because it might narrow things down.

“Where did you go to college? Be specific.”

He nodded like he’d expected the question. “I graduated with an MBA from Stanford School of Business.”

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. Business was a wide-open field. Dean had a business degree, and he’d been a financial planner. My friend Gina was in school earning a business degree to work in the insurance field. Knowing Alejandro had an MBA in business didn’t narrow it down as much as I’d hoped.

I frowned as I considered what to ask next. For some reason, my mind kept returning to his house and the cars outside. His brother was younger than he was and they both had luxury cars. Also, the entire family was vacationing together at one time. Clearly, they were close and didn't mind spending a lot of time together. That's he'd just mentioned that Rafe could work from home made me think that maybe they worked together. And if they worked together, perhaps the entire family did.

“Do you work with your family?”

Alejandro grinned and nodded his head once. “Yes. Except for my youngest brother and my sister-in-law, we all work within the family business in some way.”

My brows rose in surprise. “So even if someone marries in, they’re given the option to work within the business?”

He shook his head. "Our fathers started it together, which means it is as much hers as it is any of ours. More so, because technically half belongs to her alone."

“Do you like working with your family?”

I hadn’t meant for that to be one of my questions, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.

"It is all I know, but I wouldn't change it for a thing. I love it. My parents always made it clear to us that we could do whatever we wanted. There was no pressure to work within the company, but it's in our blood. Even though my youngest brother doesn't work with us now, I suspect that when he retires from sports, he will join us in some capacity."

I tried to imagine what kind of business a family could run that would pay off the way Alejandro's did. "You said you spend four months a year in America, either in New York or Los Angeles," I mused. "That means the business is international, which narrows things down a decent amount. My mind immediately goes three places. Property, finance or fashion."

Mr. Poker Face gave nothing away. “I’m not saying a word since you didn’t ask a question,” he laughed.

I only had three left, which wasn’t ideal. I hoped he’d let me cheat a little.

“Is it one of those three things?” I asked.

“Nope. You’re not even close.”

His grin came within an instant of melting me into a puddle. I looked away and bit my lip as I thought over everything Alejandro had said to me since we’d met. Surely there had to have been a clue. I wondered what it said about me that I remembered everything he’d said to me. As I ran the conversations through my head, something jumped out at me, almost like a flashing neon sign pointing me in the right direction. Snapping my fingers, I leaned forward excitedly.

"You told me you studied coupon cycles for two years. I thought you were kidding, but you were serious, weren't you?"

His lips curled up into a smile. “I was one hundred percent serious.”

“Mystery solved. You do something that involves grocery stores.”

“You’re good,” he laughed. “I didn’t expect you to narrow it down so well. It is good to talk with someone who hears what is said. So many people just nod their head without taking anything in.”

I smiled at the compliment before I continued. "Do you have a food brand or something?"

He shook his head. “No. We own CS Markets.”

My head went back as my eyes widened. Sheesh. That explained the massive house and the luxury cars in the driveway. CS Markets were huge. I’d once been a loyal Vons shopper, but in the last few years I’d switched over to CS because they doubled coupons every day except on the last Saturday of each month when they tripled them. Triple coupon days were no joke. I lived for them and had filmed many, many CS store hauls for my channel.

“Can you just walk into any store and get all the groceries you want?” I joked. “If so, do you go in once a week and run around like you’re on Supermarket Sweep?”

His warm laughter caused me to clench my thighs beneath the table.

“I’m not allowed to take what I want without paying,” he answered. “It would throw off the inventory.”

We spent another fifteen or so minutes talking about his job and mine before we left the Farmer's Market to return to our respective homes. By the time we pulled into his driveway, and I parked the car for him to get out he'd elaborated that his official job title was Chief Digital Officer, which meant he was in charge of overseeing the company’s mobile app division.

He grinned at me as he took his lone bag from my back seat. “What time do you want to film?” he asked.

I looked at my dash display and thought for a minute. “Give me about an hour to get the shot set up. I need to pull the cakes out of the fridge so they’re the right temperature and I may need to spruce up some of the icing. The guest code to enter at the gate is 0-4-9-1, so just let yourself in and come to the front door.”

"Do you want me to wear anything special?" he asked. "For our store commercials, we don't let the employees wear any clothing with prominent branding."

I shook my head. “Nope, you’re golden. What you’re wearing now is more than fine.”

By more than fine, I meant mouth wateringly hot. Alejandro could wear a flour sack, and it would look crazy sexy.

“Then I’ll see you in an hour.”

"Looking forward to it," I answered. Shifting into drive, I turned the wheel and headed back out of his driveway, chewing my bottom lip as I made the short journey back to Emery's house. As much as I wanted to pretend I wasn't, the truth was that I was beyond attracted to Alejandro Cruz. Nothing could or would come of it, but for the first time in years, I had a crush on someone. All I could do was hope it wasn't going to be an issue.