A Taste of the Forbidden. Кэрол Мортимер

       Grace shifted uncomfortably. ‘I believe you’ve more than proved your point.’

      Cesar continued to look down at her for several long, tense seconds as his usual reserve warred with the increasing need he felt to taste the fullness of Grace Blake’s mouth.

      She was his employee, damn it—a young woman who had simply accompanied her employer to Buenos Aires for the sole purpose of cooking and serving dinner this evening. A beautiful and desirable young woman, but Cesar’s employee nonetheless.

      ‘So I have,’ he rasped, his jaw tight, and he pushed away from the wall to step back as the lift came to a halt. The doors opened to allow them to step out into the cool entrance hall of his apartment.

      Grace followed him slowly on legs that felt decidedly shaky, sure that she must have been mistaken about that brief flare of hunger she thought she’d seen in Cesar Navarro’s eyes a few seconds ago as he looked down at her mouth with those jet-black eyes; it was more likely to have been displeasure rather than hunger.

       BUENOS AIRES NIGHTS

       After dark with Argentina’s most infamous billionaires!

      Cesar Navarro and Raphael Cordoba—

      two Argentinians with the wealth, magnetism and

      ruthlessness to break many a woman’s heart …

      Grace and Beth—

      two ordinary British women about to make their

      first foray into the sultry heat of Buenos Aires nights …

      Read all about Grace and her boss Cesar in:

      A TASTE OF THE FORBIDDEN

      April 2013

      Read Beth and bodyguard Raphael’s story,

      A TOUCH OF NOTORIETY

      May 2013

      About the Author

      CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and fifty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon®. Carole has six sons: Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’

       Recent titles by the same author:

       HIS REPUTATION PRECEDES HIM

       (The Lyonedes Legacy)

       DEFYING DRAKON

       (The Lyonedes Legacy)

       THE TALK OF HOLLYWOOD

       Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      A Taste of the Forbidden

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      For my beautiful and loving mum—

      I admire you so much—and for my wonderful dad, my own first and forever hero.

      I love you both so very much.

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘NOW, YOU’RE SURE you’re going to be okay here on your own?’

      ‘Grace, will you stop worrying and just get in your car and drive!’ Her sister, Beth, shot her an affectionate but impatient glance. ‘I’m twenty-three years old, not three, and perfectly capable of living on my own. Besides, we need the money …’

      Yes, they did, Grace acknowledged, only too well aware that the bills, which had accumulated during the last six months of their mother’s illness—when Grace had had to give up her job as pastry chef in one of London’s leading hotels so that she might stay with their mother constantly, and so allowing Beth to finish her Master’s degree at Oxford University—were still waiting to be paid.

      Admittedly Beth had now moved back to the family home, and had a job in London working at a reputable publishing company, but there was no way that her wage alone could support the two of them and pay those accumulated bills.

      Which was why Grace was now on her way to the wilds of Hampshire for the trial period of one month, with a view to becoming the permanent cook/housekeeper at the English home of a mega-rich Argentinian businessman. Presumably, as Grace would be based in Hampshire, Cesar Navarro employed other permanent cook/housekeepers in the properties he owned in so many other parts of the world …? Although goodness knew what they were supposed to do with themselves when he wasn’t in residence!

      ‘I wonder what Cesar Navarro is like in the flesh?’ Beth added speculatively, echoing some of Grace’s own thoughts.

      Grace gave a snort as she looked up from checking the contents of her cavernous shoulder bag. ‘I very much doubt I’m going to get the chance to meet the man himself any time soon!’

      Her younger sister gave a frown. ‘What do you mean?’

      Anyone looking at the two of them, Beth, tall, blonde and dark-eyed, and Grace just a little over five feet tall with long dark hair and blue-green eyes, would probably have no problem realising that the two women weren’t actually biological sisters.

      Grace had been adopted when she was only six weeks old, and had remained an only child until she was eight years old, when her adoptive parents had brought five-year-old Beth home and introduced her as her new sister. It had been love at first sight for the two little girls, and thankfully it had been that love and affection that had supported the two of them after their adoptive father died in a car crash four years ago, which had left their mother paralysed and in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. It had been chest complications brought on by that immobility that had finally killed her two months ago.

      Grace gave a rueful grimace. ‘According to his London PA, who, as you know, interviewed and employed me—once I had passed the stringent security check, apparently!—I am to make sure breakfast is ready for his man, Raphael, to take up to the dining-room at seven o’clock each morning. Remain out of the main part of the house until after Mr Navarro has left for the day, after which time I’m allowed to clear away and tidy the house—though not his study, apparently, which is totally out of bounds—ready for his return that evening.

      ‘Evenings will follow the same routine—unless Raphael informs me otherwise, dinner is to be ready for serving promptly at eight o’clock. And finally I have to be out of the house by nine o’clock each evening—after which time it’s no doubt, party, party, party!’