A Taste of the Forbidden. Кэрол Мортимер

      Grace’s breath had lodged somewhere in her throat as the sultry huskiness of his tone brought to mind—totally inappropriately!—thoughts of running her fingers up that broad and muscled chest to his tousled, just-had-sex hair, as she brought his mouth down to hers and—

      Oh, good grief!

      She must be feeling lonlier than she had realised if she was having thoughts of kissing Cesar Navarro, of all men. If she was having thoughts of kissing any man she had just met!

      Oh, she’d had her share of boyfriends over the years, but none of those relationships had been in the least serious. She certainly hadn’t been so bowled over by the sheer sensuality of any of those men that she had fantasised about kissing him within minutes of meeting him!

      She wasn’t fantasising about kissing her new boss, either! What would be the point, when his sexual inclinations obviously lay in a different direction?

      ‘No, of course not,’ Grace assured him briskly. ‘As you say, perhaps it would be better if we finished this conversation in the clear light of day.’

      He continued to look down at her with those brooding dark eyes for several long seconds, before slowly nodding his head. ‘I will call for Rodney—so that he may escort you to your cottage, not “dispatch” you,’ he snapped his impatience as Grace’s eyes widened in alarm.

      She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’m quite capable of walking back to the cottage unescorted.’

      His mouth tightened. ‘It is late, and very dark outside.’

      Grace grimaced. ‘And there are so many security guards out there that there’s no way anyone from outside could possibly get in and attack me!’

      Cesar’s eyes narrowed. ‘You seem overly concerned by the presence of my security guards?’

      ‘Perhaps just curious as to the need for so many of them?’

      His mouth tightened. ‘I am not in the habit of explaining myself. To anyone.’

      ‘Least of all temporary employees.’ Grace nodded. ‘It’s the cameras everywhere that give me the creeps.’ She glanced up at one of those cameras in the corner of the kitchen, the pulsing red light showing that it was a live feed. ‘You do realise that someone in the basement is watching the two of us right now?’

      ‘But they cannot hear our conversation,’ he assured her impatiently.

      ‘Which is probably as well!’ Grace grimaced. ‘My remarks haven’t exactly been polite,’ she admitted ruefully as Cesar raised questioning brows.

      No, this young woman’s conversation had been far from the politeness he was used to, Cesar acknowledged derisively. So much so that he found Miss Blake’s conversation strangely … refreshing, after years of stating his wants and needs and knowing they would be immediately satisfied; Grace Blake gave the impression she didn’t do anyone’s bidding unquestioningly.

      As evidenced by the vase of pink lilies, which had adorned the table in the entrance hall earlier today, but which now stood in the middle of the kitchen table.

      ‘It seemed a pity to waste them,’ Grace defended quickly as she saw where the darkness of Cesar Navarro’s compelling gaze now rested.

      His jaw tightened. ‘My instructions were for them to be—’

      ‘Removed from the hallway,’ Grace put in quickly. ‘And, as you can see, I have removed them.’

      ‘And instead placed them in the kitchen.’

      ‘Well … yes.’ Her cheeks burnt with colour. ‘I only bought them this morning, and I couldn’t bear to just throw them out when they’re so beautiful. The perfume is absolutely divi—’ She broke off as he continued to look steadily down the long length of his aristocratic nose at her. ‘Maybe I could take them back to my cottage with me? Or would you consider that as stealing from you, too?’

      ‘And, again, punishable by death?’ he drawled dryly.

      ‘I’ve already admitted I may have let my imagination wander a little on that one.’ Grace winced at his obvious derision.

      Cesar Navarro’s expression was completely inscrutable as he turned to take the kitchen phone from its charger before pressing several buttons. ‘I am merely calling Rodney so that he can escort—Rodney? Yes,’ he bit out tersely into the receiver while the darkness of his gaze remained firmly fixed on Grace. ‘No, there is no problem, but I would like you to escort Miss Blake back to her cottage. Yes, I am aware that should have been the case. Unfortunately Miss Blake seems incapable of following even the simplest of instructions.’

      She gasped. ‘That’s hardly fair—’

      ‘The kitchen.’ Cesar completely ignored Grace’s protest as he continued to talk to his English Head of Security. ‘One minute? I am sure that Miss Blake and I will be able to amuse ourselves for that length of time,’ he drawled before abruptly ending the call and putting the phone back on its stand before folding his arms over his muscled chest to once again look down the length of his nose at her.

      Grace eyed him in frustration. ‘How nice to know that Rodney now thinks I’m some sort of a security risk!’

      Cesar raised one dark brow. ‘And is Rodney’s opinion of such importance to you?’

      ‘It is when he’s licensed to carry a gun!’

      His mouth thinned. ‘You are uncomfortable with that knowledge?’

      She grimaced. ‘I think intimidated might be a better way of describing it.’

      Cesar had lived with this high level of security for more than half his lifetime, and rarely noticed it any more; he had certainly never considered how other people might react to being constantly under surveillance. Not that it mattered to him how Grace Blake felt about it; the security that surrounded him and his family was for a specific reason, and he had no intention of changing it to suit his English cook/housekeeper. His on-a-one-month’s-trial English cook/housekeeper …

      ‘Ah, Rodney.’ He turned to look at the other man as he let himself quietly in by the back door. ‘Miss Blake is ready to leave.’

      ‘This really isn’t necessary,’ Grace Blake protested with obvious discomfort.

      ‘I have already explained the reasons I consider it important—’

      ‘Oh, well, that makes it all right, then!’

      Cesar’s eyes narrowed at her obvious sarcasm. ‘Do not forget to take the lilies with you,’ he reminded as she turned to follow the silent Rodney. ‘Take the vase, too,’ he added wearily as she attempted to remove the flowers and immediately dripped water all over the table top.

      ‘I—thank you.’ She quickly wiped the table before gathering the cut-glass vase up in her arms, and was instantly dwarfed by both its weight and the height of the flowers.

      ‘Rodney?’ Cesar gave the other man an exasperated glance.

      ‘Yes, sir.’ His English Head of Security was obviously having the same problem as Cesar had earlier as he took the vase of flowers out of Grace Blake’s arms, in as much as it took great effort on his part not to laugh at her disgruntled expression. Evidence, perhaps, that Rodney was, as Grace Blake had thought earlier, thawing towards her?

      Understandably so, perhaps, when not only was Miss Blake naturally beautiful, but her forthright way of talking was entertaining, to say the least.

      ‘Goodnight, Miss Blake,’ Cesar bit out dismissively as Rodney stood back politely in order to allow her to precede him out of the kitchen.

      She turned slightly, her gaze not quite meeting his as she nodded. ‘Mr Navarro.’

      Cesar waited until she and Rodney had both departed the kitchen, the door locked securely behind them, before his mouth curved into a rueful smile at the strangeness