The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

My treacherous eyes swept him head to toe again. Dammit, he looked
really, really good, all cozy and comfy.
I shook my head. “Come on, Mr. Robot. We have bags to check in,” I
told him, forcing my eyes away. “Now that you are here and all.”
Reaching for the weekender bag—which was filled to the brim—I lifted it
off the floor, hung it off my shoulder, and tried to walk with as much grace as
I could while probably looking a little bit like an overloaded Sherpa.
In one long stride, Aaron caught up with me. I watched his eyebrow rise
as he gave me a sideways glance. “How long are you planning on staying in
Spain?” He eyed my two pieces of bigger than strictly necessary luggage. “I
thought we’d be flying back on Monday.”
“And we are.”
Eyes wide, Aaron made a show out of looking me and my luggage up and
down. “That’s how you pack for three days?”
I quickened my pace while I tried really hard not to assplant on the
terminal’s polished floor under the weight of the bag on my shoulder. “Yes.
Why do you ask?”
Instead of answering, his hand on my arm stopped my course. Without
giving me a chance to complain, he delicately snagged my bag and placed it
on his shoulder.
The physical relief was so immediate that I had to stop myself from
moaning in response.
“Jesus, Catalina,” he huffed, looking back at me, horrified. “What are you
carrying in here? A dead body?”
“Hey, this is not a regular weekend visit to the fam, okay? Stop luggageshaming
me,” I said to the scowling man walking beside me. “I had to fit
loads of stuff. Makeup, accessories, hair dryer, hair straightener, my good
conditioner, lotion, all the dresses I’m taking, six pairs of shoes—”
“Six pairs of shoes?” Aaron croaked, scowling even harder.
“Yes,” I answered quickly, my gaze hunting for the right check-in
counter. “One for each of the three different outfits I need, plus the pertinent
three backups.” I paused, thinking of something. “Please tell me you packed
at least one backup.”
Aaron rearranged my bag on his shoulder, shaking his head at the same
time. “No, I didn’t. But I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand …” Another
shake of his head. “You are—”
“Brilliant?” I finished for him. “Astute? Gifted in the art of packing? I