Consequences Of A Hot Havana Night

‘Yes. Good as new.’

Holding his gaze, she gave him a small stiff smile. ‘I’m glad.’

There was a moment of silence, and then she cleared her throat. ‘Look, I don’t really know what’s normal for this situation. I don’t usually do this kind of thing, you know—’

He waited a moment, then shrugged. ‘Me neither.’

Watching the tic of tension along the curve of her jaw, he knew for certain that he’d got under her skin. What was less certain, though, was why that mattered to him.

She flushed. ‘Okay, well... I’m sure you’ve got things to be getting on with.’

His hand stilled against the top button of his shirt. In other words she wanted him to leave. She was kickinghim out.

‘Of course.’ He felt a twist of irritation, followed by a sudden intense need to dictate the terms of their encounter. Deliberately slowing down the buttoning of his shirt, he glanced assessingly round the room. ‘Nice house,’ he said slowly. ‘How did you find it?’

Her eyes met his. ‘It came with my job.’

He felt a ripple of disquiet. ‘What job?’

She frowned, not at his question but at the terseness in his voice that he hadn’t bothered to disguise.

‘I work for Dos Rios—you know, the rum. You might have heard of them.’

His chest tightened. Dos Rios had a policy of providing temporary accommodation for consultants and overseas contractors. His PA would know the details, but obviously he wouldn’t have been notified. The comings and goings of his employees was way below his pay grade.

‘I should do,’ he said. ‘As the business was founded by my family.’

He paused, watching her face as he let his words sink in.

‘What do you mean?’

The colour had drained from her cheeks. She was staring at him in confusion.

‘I—I didn’t—I don’t...’ She was struggling to speak.

‘Understand?’ He finished her sentence. ‘Then perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is César Zayas y Diago.’

* * *

In the still, tense silence that followed his remark, Kitty felt her insides loosen. ‘No, you can’t be,’ she said hoarsely.

Her stomach was in freefall.

It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be, she thought frantically. She’d been in the labs only yesterday, and surely somebody would have said something about his imminent arrival.

He must be lying.

Only her skin felt suddenly too tight, her heartbeat too loud, and as though she was looking at him for the first time she registered the tiny pleats at the top of his shirtsleeves; the expensive dark suit trousers and the handmade black leather brogues.

His eyes rested on her face and she felt a prickle of heat spread over her skin as he held out his hand.

‘I assure you I am.’

His voice had grown cooler, its authority no longer like quicksilver beneath the surface but smooth and inflexible like high tensile steel, and with a pang of acceptance she knew that he was telling the truth.

There was only one thing to do and, feeling her breath ricocheting against her ribs, she took his hand and shook it briefly.

His eyes raked her face and then he smiled. Only it wasn’t the slow, languorous smile of her imagination. Instead it was cool and assessing and uncompromising. The smile of a CEO...the smile of a boss.