Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

‘I don’t like to plan ahead.’ She swallowed. ‘Things don’t always work out—’

He frowned, and that mask—the one without expression that he’d worn as he’d left her villa—slipped over his face.

‘Dos Rios is a major step up for you. You need to build on that. Your career is international now. Or is there a reason you need to go back to England?’

After all the generic boss-new-employee questions, his sudden trespass into more personal territory rasped against her skin.

He looked at her curiously and for one terrible moment, she thought he might press her, but after a moment, he shrugged.

It was time to change the subject, she thought. ‘So how do you know them? Héctor and Frank, I mean?’

He stared at her so intently in the silence that followed her remark that the greenness of his eyes almost overwhelmed her.

‘We used to hang out at the same beaches when we were teenagers,’ he said finally. ‘And we carried on hanging out through university, and during the holidays, until we all got jobs.’

It was not difficult to imagine the chubby, smiling brothers lolling on wooden chairs on the honey-coloured sand of some palm-strewn beach. César, on the other hand... She stared at him speculatively. He looked poised, unruffled, immaculate. He was dressed in his customary uniform of black suit and tie, although on him it seemed more like armour than clothes.

‘You don’t seem convinced.’

His eyes met hers and she made a face. ‘Well, I can’t really imagine you on a beach. Do you tuck your tie into your swim shorts?’

He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. The table suddenly seemed to small.

‘I haven’t always worn a shirt and tie,’ he said softly. ‘I still don’t when the occasion requires it.’

The memory of his naked body pressed against hers collided with a 3D image of him rising out of the sea, water trickling down his smooth golden skin. Inhaling sharply, she bit her lip—and then instantly wished she hadn’t as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

‘But I have to admit it was tricky getting the sand out of my laptop.’

His green eyes glittered and she bit her lip again, but her mouth defied her and she could feel herself smiling.

‘Don’t you have people to do that for you? I mean, you are the boss.’

The air around them felt hot and tight.

‘I’m not always the boss. Sometimes I take the day or the night off.’

Her breathing was suddenly staccato, and she felt her calm mood of moments earlier flee, dissipating in the face of his untempered masculinity and authority like dandelion seeds in the wind. It was time to move the conversation away from the tempting, stealthy undercurrent beneath his words.

‘So, what did you do, then, on these beaches?’

‘Probably exactly what you did when you were that age.’

Kitty blinked. At ‘that age’ she’d been trying to fit in lectures around Jimmy’s hospital appointments. There had been no time to go the beach.

‘Like what?’

He shrugged. ‘A whole crowd of us would hook up. You know, have some drinks, make a barbecue, play music, dance.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

He shifted forward in his seat so that his knee brushed against hers beneath the table, and she had to clench her muscles to stop herself from pressing back, from leaning in to the heat of his body.

‘Why are you smiling like that?’

His mood had shifted, he seemed lighter and more relaxed. It was a glimpse of a younger, less guarded man, and she wondered what had changed him over the years.

She shook her head. ‘You can dance?’