Terms Of Their Costa Rican Temptation

‘My great-aunt,’ Benoit said. He continued to look straight ahead with an odd determined glint in his eye. ‘She swears by it.’

Skye inspected the wound she’d been pressing on to see if it had stopped bleeding. It was definitely slowing. She took a slightly deeper breath and spoke to the air above his head. ‘I’m sorry you got hurt in the crash and I’m sorry about all this.’

‘You already apologised. No need for more.’ His tone was clipped, but when he glanced up at her something sparked low, igniting quick and hard, rushing every inch of her body in one powerful wave. She’d never felt anything like it and when he lifted his hand upwards she thought for a crazy moment he was going to touch her, until he reached past her to retrieve the T-shirt hung up behind her and all that spark and energy turned harsh, biting and hot, twisting into embarrassment.

As Skye retreated, hiding behind a curtain of gently drying shoulder-length hair, Benoit cursed himself to hell and back. He had more finesse than that. But he’d needed to put some space between them before either of them did something they’d regret.

But for that moment, when she’d stood between his legs with nothing but his T-shirt separating them, his hands had fisted on his knees to stop himself reaching for the backs of her thighs, from running his hands up under the hem of the cotton top and palming—

Dieu, he felt as if his heart was about to explode in his chest. He hadn’t been like this since he was a teenager. It’s just the situation, he told himself. He needed food. And whisky. Not necessarily in that order. He reached for the apple he’d been trying to give her when she’d noticed the cut on his head.

‘Here,’ he said, catching Skye’s attention before throwing her the apple. ‘It’s not the steak I was supposed to be having tonight, but it’s better than nothing.’ Leaning over and exhaling through the ache in his side, he retrieved the rest of the bag with the food he’d bought at the market this morning. It already felt like a lifetime ago.

He’d not bought anything substantial, knowing that his housekeeper would have stocked the fridge for his arrival, and certainly nothing that would have been affected by the heat and the journey. So really all they had were some nuts, savoury biscuits, bananas, apples and a few protein bars. It was hardly a feast, but it would get them through.

He divided the rations between them and turned to Skye, who now had one foot on the seat, her arm resting on the knee while the other long, smooth leg, shapely calf muscle and tiny ankle caught the firelight and his attention simultaneously.

Biting down on the apple, she was either the most skilled temptress he’d ever met or completely innocent and Benoit honestly didn’t know which would be worse. He’d come to Costa Rica to get his thoughts in order. To figure out a way round the by-law. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d need to, sure that the board would eventually back down. But they hadn’t. And if he didn’t find a wife within two weeks the CEO position would pass to his brother because he was married. Reflexively, Benoit gripped his fist, knuckles turning bone-white. No. He’d never let that happen. Not after Xander’s betrayal.

Benoit had given everything and more to Chalendar Enterprises. When he was a child his great-aunt’s words had sunk in and sunk deep. ‘We have a duty to the past. A responsibility to bear for future generations to come.’ Benoit had felt the weight of responsibility of a company that had been in his family for over one hundred and fifty years. His whole life had revolved around it, studying applied science, mathematics as well as business, working through summer holidays while at university. He’d worked in every single department they had, learning from the ground up, understanding each part of the organisation. He’d brought the entire company back from the brink of bankruptcy. And the board wanted to enforce the by-law that meant he must marry because he’d had a bit of fun for two years?

But it wasn’t just the board, was it?

The crunch of an apple being bitten cracked through thoughts of his great-aunt and brought Skye into focus. Just one day, he told himself. He just had to get through one more day with her.

He passed Skye her portion of the food before reaching for the whisky. He spun the lid from the top and took a large mouthful, swallowing the amber liquid with relish. It hit his near empty stomach like Greek fire and warmed him from the inside out within seconds. He put the bottle down and picked up the nuts, catching Skye’s eyes gazing at the bottle on the floor.

‘Would you like some?’ he offered.

She tucked her bottom lip beneath her teeth.

Temptress.

‘I’ve never actually had whisky before.’

Innocent.

She was giving him whiplash. She’d never had whisky? Who was this woman? ‘Now probably isn’t the best—’

She cut him off with an outstretched arm and a look in her eyes that made Benoit try not to laugh. She had the stubbornness of a mule and he had a feeling that if he didn’t comply with her request she’d finish the whole damn bottle just to spite him. And that wouldn’t be funny.

He passed her the bottle and watched as she took a conservative mouthful of whisky and then struggled not to cough as the alcohol burned her throat. For a second the memory of raiding Anaïs’ alcohol cabinet with his brother as kids rose in his mind like smoke from the fire. Benoit’s eleven-year-old self had been focused not on the illicit thrill of his first drink but making sure his little brother didn’t get sick from it.

Skye finally coughed, shaking her head and flapping her hand by her cheeks as if to dry the big plump tears that he could see sitting in the corners of her

eyes. Laughter rose unbidden in his chest and the attempt to stifle it made his shoulders shake, drawing yet another glare from Skye. He held his hand out for the bottle and she passed it back.

‘It’s not that funny,’ she said when she had finally stopped coughing.

‘No. You’re right, I’m sorry,’ he said so insincerely that she threw her apple core at him. Which he caught one-handed and tossed into the fire.

For a while silence descended as they each practically inhaled the protein bars, nuts and fruit. Benoit stuck his head outside to make sure that their water bottles were filling up. If they did finish the whisky the bottle could be refilled with water if it kept raining. Not that it was a good idea to finish it.

Coming back to his seat by the fire, he reached for the whisky, only to find Skye sneaking another drink. He raised his eyebrow and she passed it back to him. He settled back into his seat, took a sip and said, ‘So, Miss Soames. Are you ready to tell me why you stole into the back of my car yet? Am I over my “mantrum”?’

‘You’re not going to forget that, are you?’ she asked, a slight trace of humour glinting gold in her deep brown eyes.

‘Not any time soon, no.’