Short Story: A Rose by any other name??

Oh my. But he was delicious. Tina pushed back her sweaty bangs, more to keep her hands occupied than anything else. The man had ducked under the ancient bookshelf to retrieve her fallen map, and the urge to reach out and touch him was embarrassing. She hastily averted her eyes, pushing her glasses up her nose and looked around the cool, dimly lit room that served as the reception. The rich tapestries on the wall, ornately carved wooden tables and potted palms made her feel like she’d strayed into an oasis from the Arabian nights, and she felt a shiver run up her spine.

She was finally in Granada, ready to visit the Alhambra and experience for herself the Moorish influence on the region, the start of her grand adventure. Her mind drifted towards the stories surrounding the palace and it was a moment before she realized that he had straightened and was watching her. She blushed, and launched into a halting explanation in Spanish, her hands more eloquent than her limited vocabulary. He handed her the map, his dark eyes smiling. Flustered, she thanked him, her eyes on his lips, watching them move. He said something, she knew that, but what?
He moved behind the desk and looked at her expectantly. Quelling the rising feeling of ditziness, Tina gave him her brightest smile and nodded. It was the right response, as he grinned, grabbing a key from behind the counter before coming around, kissing her warmly on either cheek, and introduced himself as Carlos. Oh my, he smelled so good. Still smiling, he steered her past an archway, down steps decorated with vivid turquoise tiles, to a small alcove branching into a map room and a games room. The warmth of his hand seeping through her thin t-shirt, raised the hairs on her arms. She drew in her breath at the alcove’s rustic charm, the rich, earthy tones of the décor.

She saw Carlos enjoying her unrestrained pleasure before leading her to a picturesque terrace, dotted with wrought iron tables and chairs, rose bushes and a regally indifferent tabby sunning itself. Tina was thrilled. She could picture this in the 1600’s, the Caliph’s house, hidden nooks, crannies, and crazy steps everywhere, servants at your beck and call. Carlos was talking as he preceded her down some more steps, but all she caught was ‘kitchen’ and ‘breakfast’ as they entered a bright courtyard of what was obviously the restaurant.

The restaurant? Had he invited her for breakfast?? She hesitated, but Carlos drew her forward and introduced her to Marita, the ample chef, who embraced her, thrust an apron into her hand and told her how glad she was to finally see her. Bemused, she tried to focus on the rapidfire exchange as the magical moment slid away. She listened as Carlos deftly tied her apron, patting her encouragingly. With a last smile he turned and left. She felt the heat climbing up her face. Carlos the Love God had scrambled her brains....that fool of a man thought she was the new kitchen help!