Master of El Corazon

She could believe that. His body was hard and welltoned; the times he’d taken her in his arms, she’d felt the heated power of it...

A flush rose in her face and she turned away. ‘That explains a lot,’ she said. ‘After you realised you couldn’t get anywhere on your own, you decided to make a grab for El...’

The breath whooshed from her lungs as Conor spun her towards him. ‘By the time Felix began accusing me of trying to snatch this ranch from him, I’d made a fortune half a dozen times over!’

‘How? By hauling bananas?’

Conor’s teeth flashed in an angry smile. ‘Among other things.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ll just bet!’ Arden twisted free of his hand. ‘You’re wasting your time if you think that sad story of yours would make me understand why you care more for El Corazon than you do for your uncle.’

‘I told it to you so you’d understand that I know all about women like you. And I’m tired of you pointing a finger at me. You’ve accused me of being everything from a bum to an opportunist, you’ve called me a liar, you’ve twice attempted to slap my face—have I left anything out?’

‘I only gave you what you deserved!’

The anger that had been gleaming in his eyes faded and was replaced by another kind of light.

‘You almost did, the other night.’

Something in his tone sent a flush to Arden’s cheeks. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He smiled crookedly. ‘We agreed to be civil to each other, but—’

‘I’ve been trying to be civil! You’re the one—’

He reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. His fingers burned against her flesh, hotter than the heat of the sun.

‘—but when I kissed you,’ he said softly, his eyes on hers, ‘1 got the feeling we might manage more than that.’

Arden felt the leap of her pulse, but her voice was steady. ‘You thought wrong.’

Conor smiled lazily. ‘I don’t think so. Otherwise, why would you be turning such a bright shade of crimson right now?’

‘I’m not doing any such thing! I’m simply—’

‘No, sweetheart, you’re not “simply” anything. There’s nothing simple about you at all.’ His arms went around her. ‘Hell, no wonder the old man’s so taken with you.’

‘Conor, this is nonsense. You can’t just—’

‘We could agree to start with civility and work up from there.’

Arden put her hands on his wrists. ‘I’ve no intention of—’

He bent his head and kissed her quickly, the brush of his lips against hers surprisingly gentle.

‘Is that civil enough for you?’ he asked softly.

Arden stared up into his eyes. They weren’t emerald at all, she thought crazily, they were far deeper in colour than that, they were the shade of the jungle...

He lowered his head again, his mouth settling on hers harder than before, his lips parted so she could feel not his warmth but his heat, a heat as hot as the tropic sun blazing down from the cloudless blue sky.

A soundless whimper rose in her throat. Her mouth moved under his, her hands lifted, her palms flattened against his bare chest. He whispered something against her lips and his arms tightened around her, drawing her closer, until they were pressed tightly together. The tip of his tongue darted into her mouth and heat washed through her, rising like a flame from somewhere low in her belly, sizzling through her blood and to her breasts.

‘Conor,’ she said shakily, ‘Conor, listen—’

‘I like the way you say my name,’ he whispered.

Arden closed her eyes. She was melting against him. His mouth was at her throat; he was whispering to her in Spanish, words she only half-understood. But there was no mistaking what he wanted, what she wanted...