Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

She felt her stomach knot. It wasn’t a question, and there was no point in lying. ‘If I’d known who you were—’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘So you work for me?’

‘I work for Dos Rios.’

After what had just happened between the two of them it seemed important to differentiate between the man and his business.

The slight curl to his lip suggested that he registered her intent. ‘In what capacity?’

‘I’m working on the anniversary rums,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m Kitty Quested.’

They’d already shaken hands, so instead she forced her mouth into a small, stiff smile. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the corner of the sofa, and her pulse moonwalked backwards. This polite formality after the fierce intimacy of earlier felt horribly artificial and unsettling.

Looking up, she met his gaze. He smiled—the kind of smile that made it difficult to swallow.

‘I remember,’ he said slowly. ‘Blackstrap.’

The word echoed like a gunshot around the quiet room. She felt a ripple of panic. He was going to sack her. ‘I know what you’re thinking...’

‘And I know what you’re thinking.’ He held her gaze. ‘But, no, I’m not going to fire you. And, yes, with hindsight, that—’ he gestured towards the sofa ‘—was probably a bad idea, but it’s too late to worry about that now.’

He paused, and she felt her face grow warm as his dark green eyes dropped to her mouth.

‘In fact it

was too late way back when I saw you out there on the road.’

Her breath caught in her throat. She felt her body stirring, and then a swift rush of shame. How could she have such a strong response to a man who, to be frank, she hardly knew? When the man she’d loved, and still loved, was dead. It made no sense, and it was going to stop now.

Whatever connection they had, it would be better, simpler, safer if it existed solely on a professional basis from now on.

‘This won’t happen again. Obviously.’ She spoke in a rush, needing to know that he understood and felt the same way as she did. ‘It was just...’ She searched for the word.

‘Sex?’ he suggested.

Her cheeks were growing pinker, but she held his gaze. ‘Yes, it was just sex, and what’s more important is our working relationship, so I think it would be best if we just put it all behind us.’

He stared at her in silence. Then, ‘That won’t be a problem,’ he said softly. ‘From now on you and I have a clean slate. But you don’t need to worry about our working relationship, Ms Quested. I really don’t spend much time in Havana.’

His words were clipped, his expression impassive.

‘Enjoy your time at Dos Rios and I wish you luck in the rest of your career.’

She watched as he turned and walked quickly across the room. As the door closed behind him, she breathed out unsteadily.

He was gone, and that was what she wanted.

Better still, it sounded as though there would be no chance of them ever meeting again, and that was what she wanted too.

It was better that way. Her throat tightened.

All she needed to do now was make herself believe it.

CHAPTER FOUR

HUNCHING OVER THE screen of her laptop, Kitty stared despondently at her notes. She was trying not to panic but there was no point in denying the obvious: after weeks of trial and experimentation, she was stuck.

Straightening her spine, she gazed around the space-age Dos Rios labs, breathing unsteadily, suddenly ridiculously close to tears.