‘Oh, you’re not.’ Kitty said. ‘Carrie, this is...’ she hesitated.
‘César.’ He finished her sentence smoothly, keeping his voice casual.
‘Nice to meet you, César.’ Carrie smiled. ‘So how do you two know each other?’
Kitty looked startled. ‘Oh, we—we’re—’
‘Friends. We met through work.’ He smiled at Carrie. ‘Are you from England too?’
Carrie nodded. ‘London. Look, you’re welcome to join us—’ she flicked a glance at Kitty ‘—but I’ll leave you two to talk it over.’ She gave Kitty’s arm a quick squeeze. ‘Just let me know what you want to do, okay?’
As Kitty nodded the crowd pushed forward and she was driven into him by the tide-swell of people, and fleetingly her soft curves were pressed against his groin. His mind blanked but he reacted instinctively, grabbing her elbow to steady her.
Watching her pupils flare, a buzz went through his body like the trembling of an electric storm. Not wanting to reveal his instant uncensored response to her sudden proximity, he let her go and took a step backwards, using his arm to create a space.
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault—it’s crazy in here.’ She glanced across the crowded room. ‘Is this really a quiet bar?’
He laughed. They were both having to shout to be heard. ‘For Cuba, yes.’
She smiled, and then her smile stiffened. ‘Why did you say we’re friends? We’re not friends.’
He held her gaze. ‘We’re not exactly strangers either.’
Her cheeks darkened. ‘About that—’ She glanced away, then back to his face. ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Why shouldn’t it? We’re both grown-ups. And single.’
It wasn’t a question, but his stomach tensed as he watched her small upturned face brace against his words, and then she nodded and he felt his body loosen.
‘I know, but I work for you.’
‘You work for Dos Rios.’
Recognising her own words, she gave him another small smile and then looked away. ‘I just want us to have a professional working relationship, and I know you said that wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘It’s not.’ Suddenly, fiercely, he wanted her to trust him. ‘And it won’t be.’
He knew men in his position who would have taken advantage of Kitty and, yes, he was ruthless in business. But he would never exploit people in that way. He knew what it felt like to be subject to the whims of another, and it was a feeling he would never willingly inflict on someone else.
He glanced past her at the mirror above the bar, his gaze focusing on their reflections, and as he watched the wariness fade from her eyes he quickly closed off his mind against the ache in his groin. It was time to change the subject.
His eyes dropped to the glass of orange juice in her hand. ‘You know drinking that is practically a criminal offence in Cuba?’
She smiled. ‘I wanted to end the evening with some memories, not a hangover—Sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so prim and uptight, it’s just... Well, I had this idea. I thought I might find some inspiration—you know, for the rums. But I think I’m just going to end up with a sore throat from having to shout all evening.’
She glanced away and, following her gaze, he met her eyes in the mirror. For a moment they just stared at one another, and then she turned to face him. ‘Look, I don’t suppose you want to go somewhere a bit less rowdy...’
He felt his heart beat expectantly in his throat. Her voice was light, her expression the question mark that she had left off the end of the sentence.
Behind him the room felt solid against his back, but he could still feel the imprint of her hip on his skin, glowing red-gold like an ember.
There was no reason to say yes—every reason, in fact, to refuse. But he already knew that making her off-limits would simply exacerbate his hunger. His stomach tightened and, remembering that he hadn’t actually eaten, he felt a rush of clarity. He’d make this about that kind of hunger.
He nodded slowly. ‘Actually, I’d like that. Have you eaten?’
Her eyes were dark, almost purple, and he knew even before she shook her head that she hadn’t. ‘Okay... Well, I haven’t either, so why don’t you join me for dinner?’