Ruthless Tycoon, Inexperienced Mistress. CATHY WILLIAMS

curses when he had discovered the lack of Internet connection but he had now resigned himself to the fact that the business world would have to spend at least part of the weekend without him. For Cesar, this was no small thing. Work was his driving force. It took precedence over everything and everyone.

      ‘Because you live for your work! You practically have a bed in your office!’

      ‘And how do you know that?’

      ‘Freddy told me.’ It had slipped out before she had time to catch it and Jude shot him a sheepish look. He might rub her up the wrong way but she knew that she would have hated the thought of being discussed behind her back. ‘He just mentioned it in passing,’ she amended.

      ‘You two seem to share quite a close relationship…considering it’s purely professional…’

      ‘I never said that it was purely professional…’

      ‘But you told me that you were working on a project with him.’

      ‘I am. Was. Am.’

      ‘Past tense? Present tense? Which is it to be? And you never said precisely what this so-called project is.’

      ‘I told you, that’s something I know Freddy would want to tell you about himself.’ She belatedly remembered that she was supposed to support him whenever and wherever possible. ‘And it’s very exciting.’

      ‘Well, I can’t wait to find out what it’s all about. I’m literally on the edge of my seat. If my little brother is involved, then it’s sure to be a non-starter. His business sense has always been fairly non-existent.’ He finished his coffee and pulled out a stool so that he could prop both feet up—something, she noted, he seemed quite at ease doing considering he was in someone else’s house. ‘So he told you that I’m his workaholic brother, did he? In between discussing his mystery project?’

      ‘You make it sound as though it’s a crime to be friends with Freddy.’

      Cesar decided not to inform her that it would only be a crime should she want to adjust her position from friend to spouse.

      ‘I’m just curious. Project to friend? Friend to project? What was the order of events? How did you meet?’

      Jude looked at him warily. That earnest expression on his face didn’t fool her a bit. He was taking small steps around her, looking for clues.

      ‘I’m a designer,’ she mumbled, trying to sort out how she could avoid divulging details about their meeting, which had happened courtesy of Imogen. ‘And he needed some stuff doing…’

      ‘Oh, yes. The stuff he wants to talk to me about. And, at that point, did you know how much Fernando was worth?’

      ‘I knew that’s where all your questions were leading!’

      ‘I’m that obvious?’ Cesar asked indifferently.

      ‘Yes, you’re that obvious, not that you care! I have to go and get changed.’ She stood up and gave him a withering look, which had zero effect. He still carried on calmly looking at her, as though he had all the time in the world to wait until she decided to deliver the answer he wanted to hear.

      ‘Please don’t bother on my account,’ Cesar drawled, taking in the shapely legs which had been disguised the night before in their jeans. For someone with dark hair and dark eyes, she was delicately pale and her skin was like satin. He had become used to a diet of women who slapped on make-up. Jude, he absent-mindedly noticed, was wearing none and her face was fresh and smooth. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and he imagined that she might have been a tomboy, climbing trees and doing everything the boys did.

      Jade ignored him. ‘I haven’t been eyeing up your brother as marriage material so that I can get my hands on his fortune,’ she said tightly. ‘And it’s totally out of order for you to repay my hospitality by insulting me!’

      ‘Come again?’

      ‘I could have…left you to find your way round Canterbury in the snow so that you could source a hotel!’ Theoretically. He wasn’t to know that the pleading look Freddy had given her had warned her that he needed help just in case Cesar found himself programming his sat nav for his brother’s apartment—a very strong possibility considering his lack of familiarity with the city and the deteriorating weather. Okay, so maybe hospitality implied more than had actually been delivered, because hospitality implied a smiling welcome, but she was sticking to her guns. ‘You could have ended up lost and trapped in that silly car of yours.’

      ‘Silly car?’

      Jude made an inarticulate, defiant sound under her breath and glared at him. ‘I’m not a gold-digger. I’m not even materialistic! I don’t believe that money can buy happiness. The opposite, in fact! I’ve worked with loads of really rich people who have been miserable as anything. In fact,’ she tacked on meaningfully, ‘are you happy because you work all the hours God made so that you can accumulate more money than anyone could possibly spend in a lifetime? Freddy says that you bury yourself in your work because you’ve never really recovered from…’ She went bright red and covered her treacherous mouth with her hand.

      ‘From what…?’ Cesar asked softly.

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘What did my brother say?’

      ‘I really need to go and change now!’ She fled. She didn’t understand how she could have been so thoughtless, just lashing out at him because he had accused her of being a gold-digger. What he’d said meant nothing to her. She should have been able to hear him out and shrug it all off because whatever he thought was never going to be her problem. Instead…

      She locked the bathroom door and leaned against it for a few seconds with her eyes closed, before turning on the shower and taking her time under the cascading water.

      She felt better once she had showered and even better when she had jettisoned her silly nightie in favour of her favorite fitted jeans and a tight long-sleeved T-shirt. For some indefinable reason she defiantly wanted to show Cesar that she at least had a figure of sorts!

      The smell of bacon sizzling greeted her halfway down the stairs and her stomach churned in immediate response. If this was Cesar at the stove, then he was clearly more domesticated than she’d thought he’d be, imagining this brooding billionaire to be the type who had never knowingly sought out any culinary device. She walked into the kitchen and watched for a few silent seconds as Cesar popped some bread in the toaster and then began to beat eggs in a bowl.

      ‘You ran away before you could tell me what other little gems Fernando has shared with you,’ Cesar said without turning around.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ Jude took a deep breath and went to sit at the table. She stared at the bandage, then looked at Cesar’s aristocratic profile. His face was a lesson in beauty, his features sharply, powerfully defined. A portrait artist would have given their right arm to paint him. He had rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbows. His hands were sinewy and strong and she looked away quickly. ‘I told you that you were out of order to insult me in my own home and I was out of order to bring up something which is none of my business. Can we call it quits? Maybe start arguing about something else?’

      ‘I take it he told you about Marisol,’ Cesar said flatly. He had never found himself in the position of talking about his private life before, even though his late wife was not exactly a subject that was out of bounds. Hell, check his profile on the Internet and up the information would come.

      ‘I’m very sorry.’

      ‘For what? For not, as he insinuated, recovering from her death?’ He leaned against the counter and met her gaze coolly, steadily.

      ‘Like I said, it’s none of my business.’

      ‘You’re right. It’s not, but if you want to make it your business, then feel free to look it up when your Internet connection’s been restored.’ Had