Tempted by Dr Morales. Carol Marinelli

not even Paul. Bloody Juan had her head going in directions it wasn’t used to. A part of her wanted to stop being sensible, ordered Cate and just give in to the feelings he ignited—to be a little wild and reckless for once. She knew that she was sending him mixed messages, that at times she found herself flirting with him in a way she never had with anybody else.

      Cate washed her hands and had to dry them on her top because, of course, he didn’t have hand towels, just a wet beach towel hanging over the shower.

      Whoops, there went her mind again, imagining that huge body naked on the other side of the glass shower door.

      ‘Go home, Cate,’ she said to herself. She was about to do just that, but when she got back to the lounge Juan handed her a large glass filled with ice and some dangerous-looking cocktail.

      ‘I’m driving,’ Cate reminded him.

      ‘I know, so I take care to make you something nice—it is right to take care of the designated driver.’

      It was fruity, refreshing and delicious, yet she didn’t want to be singled out for the Juan special treatment, didn’t want to be the latest caught in his spotlight, but she knew that she was.

      Cate danced a little, chatted with her friends, finished her drink and, having stayed a suitable length of time, when she saw that he was safely speaking with others, she said goodnight to Kelly.

      ‘Stay for a bit longer,’ Kelly pushed.

      ‘I’m going to go.’ Cate shook her head and slipped quietly away and headed out to her car.

      He really had chosen a lovely spot to live—there were views of the bay to the front and behind was hillside. It all looked so peaceful, it was hard to imagine that across Victoria bush fires were raging, Cate thought, dragging in a breath of the warm, sultry night as she went into her bag for her keys.

      ‘Cate.’

      She jumped a little when she heard Juan call her name. Had she not lingered that second she would have been safely in her car; instead, she had no choice but to turn to him.

      ‘Where I come from…’ he walked slowly towards her, his boots crunching on the gravel ‘…you thank your host and say goodbye…’

      ‘I didn’t know you were such a stickler for convention.’

      ‘I’m not,’ Juan admitted, still walking towards her as she backed herself against the car. ‘Just when it suits me.’

      ‘Thank you for a lovely night.’

      ‘And in my country,’ Juan continued, ‘the host would try to persuade you to stay for one more drink, would be offended that you were leaving so soon…’ It was all very casual, except his hand had moved to her cheek and was moving a lock of her hair behind her ear.

      ‘I’m good at offending people,’ Cate said. ‘There really is no need to take it personally.’

      ‘Don’t go.’ He smiled. ‘I only asked everyone back to get you here.’

      She laughed.

      She doubted it.

      Actually, no, she didn’t, she believed it. Anything was possible with Juan.

      ‘I might not be called in to work again,’ he said. ‘So this could be it.’

      ‘It could be.’

      ‘I’d have liked to get to know you some more.’

      She gave him a half-smile, but it wavered. Cate wanted to get to know him some more too, but for what? He made no secret that in a couple of weeks he would be gone. Juan seemed completely at ease with a brief fling, whereas it just wasn’t in her nature.

      Except, yes, she wanted more of Juan.

      ‘Stay.’

      ‘Juan…’ Cate just couldn’t do it and she tried to make a joke. ‘I’ve got three brothers and they’ve all warned me about guys like you.’

      ‘What?’ He frowned.

      ‘Come on, Juan.’ She loathed how indecent he was. ‘Won’t whoever you were in bed with this afternoon mind?’

      ‘What?’ he asked again as the frown remained, but then it turned into a wicked smile. ‘That was my cleaning lady,’ he said. ‘I fell asleep on the couch, watching daytime soaps.’ He looked down at her, realised fully then that he hadn’t had sex since he’d dumped Christine, since a certain Cate Nicholls had stepped into his life—how with one turn of his head he’d been very turned on. ‘I love daytime soaps in Australia,’ he said. ‘They are filthy.’

      Cate let out a small laugh.

      She wasn’t sure she believed him about the cleaning lady, but did it matter?

      She wasn’t his mother.

      She wasn’t anything and, yes, very soon he’d be gone.

      She turned to go, only half-heartedly because he had moved in to kiss her, and not on the cheek.

      One kiss couldn’t hurt, Cate told herself.

      It was time to have kissed someone else by now, Cate decided as his mouth met hers. Except she’d never known a kiss like it.

      It was everything a kiss should be.

      It was very slow and measured, his lips light on hers at first, nudging hers into slow movement. His hands crept around her waist and his tongue slipped in and slid around hers, slowly at first, letting her acclimatise herself to the taste of him, and she did, so easily. He tasted of raspberry and vodka and something else too, which Cate couldn’t quite place.

      He took things slowly, but not for long. Just as she started to relax, just as she thought she could manage a kiss goodbye with Juan, he breathed into her, shed a low moan into her, pressed into her, pushed in his tongue more deeply, and Cate found her missing ingredient—it was a dash of sin that he tasted of, because no kiss had turned her on so much. The press of his erection made her push her mound into him, the feel of his hot hand on her back had her skin turn to fire.

      It wasn’t just her first kiss after Paul, it was the first kiss she’d ever had that could propel her straight to the bedroom. She was kissing him back and with passion; it was still a slow kiss but their tongues danced with suggestion. His hand moved to her breast and how she wished she wasn’t wearing a bra that was too tight and digging in, but a moment later she wasn’t—as easily as that, Juan had undone it. Cate let out a small sigh of relief as her breast fell into his palm and then a moan of bliss as his hand cupped her and stroked.

      ‘I want you…’ He was at her neck and trailing his mouth down, she was stone-cold sober, yet almost topless and drunk on lust. He kissed back up to her mouth and she could feel the trail of wetness he had left on her chest—and how she wanted him. Her hands moved to his head and she felt the thick, long, jet-black hair that he refused to cut, felt the wedge of muscle of a man it would be so easy to be immoral with, understood exactly why women lost their heads to him, for she was losing hers.

      She moved her hand down to his shoulder, her fingers sliding to his neck, but Juan’s hands halted hers and moved them onto his chest. It jolted her, just a little, for in that moment not a fraction of their bodies had seemed out of bounds. Cate had been utterly lost but she returned to common sense and he felt it, their eyes opening together, and she saw the regret in his as she pulled her mouth back.

      ‘We could be so good together…’ His forehead was resting on hers and she was struggling to get her breath.

      Yes, they could be so good together but he would be so bad for her.

      Cate wasn’t looking for forever but neither was she looking for one night, or one week.

      She simply couldn’t do the casual thing, never had and never could. Could not walk into work tomorrow with everyone knowing she had succumbed to Juan’s undeniable charm.

      How