Kat And The Dare-Devil Spaniard

His eyes narrowed with surprise as he stared at her. ‘You don’t?’

‘No. I’d like to carry on cooking for the crew. That is what I’m supposed to be here for.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Entirely serious. I was just starting to get into it—and there are plenty more things left for me to learn. So if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get on with the preparations for today’s meals.’ The decision which had clearly surprised him now empowered her enough to give him a serene smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.’

Carlos stared at her, his eyes narrowing with frustration. What the hell was the matter with her? She hadn’t flirted or pouted—and now she was proposing to carry on working!

He felt the sudden leap of desire as she picked up her coffee cup, and he lifted his hand in a silent gesture of command, dampening down the voice of reason which was demanding to be heard.

‘I want you eating your lunch up here with me today,’ he informed her silkily. ‘Understand?’

Kat stared into the shuttered black eyes, convinced that his autocratic statement had more to do with possession than because he actually enjoyed her company. Wasn’t it just a demonstration of his power over her—and could she possibly maintain this air of nonchalance if she had long periods of being alone with him?

‘As you wish,’ she said carelessly. ‘You’re the boss after all.’ And she headed off towards the galley.

Carlos was left looking at the empty space she left behind with a feeling of disbelief, and it was several minutes before he was able to lose himself in his work.

But he wasn’t deaf to the sounds of laughter which occasionally drifted upwards from the galley, and as the morning wore on, he found that his mood was growing increasingly sour. So that by the time Kat appeared, bearing a bowl of salad and some sort of pasta dish, his nerves were frayed and he felt the slow and relentless beat of frustration.

‘Hungry?’ she questioned with a smile which sent his pulse rate soaring.

‘I can always eat, Princesa.’

Sitting down opposite him, Kat wondered if he knew that her heart was racing erratically or that the desire to touch him felt almost like a physical pain. What on earth were they going to talk about, when all she could think of was how it felt to have his warm skin next to hers. Especially when he was behaving as if she was completely invisible. Pretend you’re at some tedious social function and have just been sat next to the guest of honour.

‘Why don’t you tell me how you got into bullfighting in the first place?’ she enquired politely, doling out a spoonful of pasta onto one of the plates.

There was a pause. ‘I thought I told you I don’t like talking about it?’ he snapped.

‘Did you? Okay. Then let’s try something else.’ She picked up a dish of salad and held it towards him with a polite smile. ‘Tell me about your business interests instead, Carlos. How you got started, how you made the jump from bullfighter to international tycoon—that must be quite some story.’

Black eyes were narrowed at her in disbelief. She sounded like one of those women he occasionally ran into at diplomatic parties—the kind who had been schooled in making polite small talk to a variety of guests. And Kat would have grown up learning how to do that too, he recognised. ‘I don’t want to talk about my damned business either.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, we’ve got to talk about something over the next couple of weeks, haven’t we? Otherwise what else are we going to do?’

Carlos stared at the blue-black gleam of her ebony hair and felt all his good intentions dissolving by the second. Her blue-eyed beauty and breezy attitude were shattering his equilibrium and making a mockery of his determination not to touch her—but when he stopped to think about it, why had he insisted on her joining him for lunch unless it was to do precisely that?

‘Put the dish down, Kat,’ he said slowly.

‘What did you think I was going to…?’ But her bravado suddenly deserted her as she saw something written on his face—a look which pierced her heart and her body like an erotic arrow. It was desire—raw, undisguised and urgent. ‘C-Carlos?’ she questioned, her voice and her hand shaking as she put the pasta down. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’ll give you three guesses.’

He was on his feet now, moving with the lithe grace of some dark panther as he stalked towards her, as if he were the predator and she his prey. Almost roughly, he pulled her into his arms and Kat stared up at him in confusion.

‘But you said…’ she whispered in confusion.

‘To hell with what I said—I’ve already broken every rule in the book for you, Kat Balfour, so why not break one more and have done with it?’ he demanded, as his mouth came down hungrily on hers.

The kiss was hot, breathless. Two mouths meeting and mingling with urgent greed. Kat shuddered as her hands flew to his shoulders while his own snaked possessively around her waist. She tried telling herself that his stark declaration of desire hadn’t contained a single word of affection, and surely she shouldn’t settle for that. But as his lips continued to sweetly plunder hers, all her doubts just melted away. Sucked into the powerful vortex of newly awoken desire, she found herself wondering just where all this was going to lead. Up here, on deck…surely he wasn’t planning to…to…

But abruptly, he terminated the kiss and, catching hold of her hand, wordlessly led her towards his cabin.

Kat hadn’t been in Carlos’s bedroom since she’d taken that rather resentful tour of the yacht on the day she’d arrived, before he had flown in by helicopter. It seemed a lifetime ago, and yet she could count off the days on one hand. A few days and your life could change for ever….

‘Carlos—’