A Taste of the Forbidden Read online

  ‘To you, perhaps,’ he bit out coldly. ‘I happen to take exception to being accused of enjoying depriving anyone of their employment.’

  And that exception was clearly visible in the dark glitter of his eyes, thinned and disapproving mouth, and the nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw!

  ‘Okay, I’m sorry if— I was obviously mistaken. I spoke hastily. You may not enjoy doing it, but you’re going to do it, anyway,’ she substituted lightly.

  If that was Grace Blake’s idea of an apology then Cesar believed she needed to work on her people skills—because she had just succeeded in insulting him for a second time in as many minutes!

  ‘Better yet,’ she brightened. ‘Why don’t we just take it as said, I’ll go back to the cottage and pack my things, and then be on my way? You and Raphael would probably appreciate not having a third party under your feet all the time, anyway.’

  Cesar had the feeling that he had somehow lost control of this conversation some minutes ago. Not a normal occurrence for him: usually when he spoke people listened; they certainly did not attempt to speak for him!

  He raised a frustrated hand to his chin as he eyed Grace Blake impatiently. ‘Myself and Raphael...?’

  ‘Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.’ She reached out to place a reassuring hand on his sleeve-covered arm before quickly withdrawing it, a blush once again darkening her cheeks. ‘Kevin had me sign some sort of privacy contract at the end of our second interview, anyway, no doubt so that you could sue me if I breathe a word to anyone about your private life.’ She gave him another one of those bright smiles.

  ‘Myself and Raphael,’ Cesar repeated softly. Very softly. The sort of lethally laced softness that family and foes alike knew to beware of.

  And which Grace Blake should be very wary of if her comments just now meant what Cesar thought they did!

  CHAPTER THREE

  ONE GLANCE AT THE COLDNESS in Cesar Navarro’s glittering black eyes, and the harshness to his swarthy and chiselled features, and Grace knew that she had said something to annoy him.

  Again.

  He had that same stillness and coldness of expression that her father had always had when she or Beth had done something wrong; Clive Blake had been a wonderful and loving father to them both, one that never, ever raised his voice to his two daughters—because he hadn’t needed to, just that cold stillness enough to tell them he was displeased or disappointed.

  As Cesar Navarro’s cold stillness now told her he was the former, at the very least!

  Grace’s feet seemed to be weighted down on the carpeted floor, and her mind had gone blank, making it impossible for her to either flee or remember what they had been talking about immediately before he became the iceman.

  Ah, yes, she remembered now; she had been reassuring him as to her complete discretion in regard to his relationship with Raphael—

  Oh.

  Grace looked up at Cesar searchingly before slowly giving a pained wince. ‘You and Raphael aren’t a couple?’

  One dark brow arched over those glittering black eyes. ‘Perhaps you would care to explain to me why it is you ever thought that we were?’

  Even his tone of voice was the same as their dad’s, Grace acknowledged with another inward wince: soft and reasoning, pleasantly so—before he verbally remonstrated with them for whatever misdemeanour they were guilty of. Except, if her assumption concerning a relationship between Cesar and Raphael had been an incorrect one—and the chilling expression on his face clearly said that it was!—then this was so much worse than a misdemeanour.

  If he hadn’t been going to fire her before, then he certainly wasn’t going to hesitate about doing so now.

  Quite irrationally Grace found herself wondering who exactly was in that single framed photograph facing away from her on Cesar’s desk. Obviously someone who mattered in his life; he wasn’t the sort of man, was far too unemotional, too self-contained, to display a photograph on a whim.

  None of which was helping her to find a suitable answer to his question. ‘It seemed the likeliest explanation for why a young, mega-wealthy and gorgeously handsome man in his prime hasn’t been photographed in the newspapers with the hordes of beautiful women he takes to his silk-sheeted bed every night—’ Grace broke off with a gasp as she realised she had just made the situation worse, not better. ‘I can’t believe I said any of that out loud!’

  ‘I assure you that you did.’ Again, Cesar was unsure of how he felt about the directness of this woman’s remarks, had no idea whether he should put an end to this now and simply ask her to leave—that decadent chocolate mousse aside!—laugh, or simply put her over his knee and give her curvaceous little bottom the smacking it deserved! ‘And did it not occur to you that no such photographs exist because I happen to own, or have influence over, much of the media?’

  ‘Ah.’ She gave a grimace. ‘Never thought of that. Does that mean that there are hordes of—’?

  ‘Might I suggest that now might be a good time for you to exercise some caution over the things you say out loud?’ Cesar eyed her warningly.

  The directness of her gaze shifted away from his. ‘Sorry.’

  He nodded at her grudging apology. ‘So, you consider me to be a “gorgeously handsome man in my prime”, do you, Miss Blake?’

  Her cheeks flushed so red now that Cesar thought she might internally combust. ‘Well, reasonably so,’ she finally conceded awkwardly.

  Cesar settled himself more comfortably against the front of the desk, arms crossed over his chest as he realised he was enjoying her obvious discomfort. ‘I had not realised there were degrees to being “gorgeously handsome” or “in your prime”?’

  ‘Will you stop repeating that as if—as if—?’ She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Is Rodney anywhere about?’

  ‘So that he might take you out into the woods and “dispatch” you?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  There was no longer any choice about it; Cesar couldn’t hold back the impulse he had to laugh at this outrageously outspoken young woman.

  * * *

  Grace’s eyes widened as she heard the husky softness of his laugh, a rich and throaty sound that stirred something to life deep inside her, not a slow or tentative stirring but a roaring, ripping, breaking free of an emotion she had never experienced in her life before.

  Desire.

  Grace gave a soft gasp as wave after wave of heat swept over her from her head to her toes, lingering and remaining in the swelling of her breasts, the tips becoming aching and engorged with that searing heat, a fiery liquid gushing between the apex of her thighs, dampening her swollen folds.

  It was at one and the same time the most pleasurable and yet the most uncomfortable feeling Grace had ever known in her life!

  Pleasurable because of that aching and swelling in the most intimate parts of her body, but uncomfortable because it was the enigmatic and reclusive Cesar Navarro, of all men, a man so totally beyond her reach or understanding, who had incited that desire.

  Achingly.

  Heatedly.

  Unbelievably!

  Even worse than the utter futility of that desire was the fact that Grace knew, by the way his laughter slowly began to fade, and those glittering and coal black eyes now narrowed on her in speculation, that he was as aware of her unbidden feelings of desire as she was!

  She drew herself up tautly. ‘Look, for everyone’s sake, can we just take it that you’ve dismissed me and let Rodney escort me off the premises—before I have chance to say anything else to embarrass myself?’

  Cesar felt somewhat bemused. Not only was his employee forthright to the point of embarrassing herself, but all of that honesty came from between perfectly bowed and moistly parted lips. Extremely kissable lips, which, the longer he looked them, caused his shaft to harden and swell in burgeoning desire. Lips Cesar now found himself looking at intently as he became curious to know whether or not they tasted as delicious as the chocolate mousse he had
unexpectedly devoured the night before—

  Ni en pedo!

  No way!

  Grace Blake worked for him, and Cesar did not have personal relationships with the women he employed. Even ones he found as interesting and unpredictable—and, apparently, arousing—as he did Miss Blake!

  Even if the flush to her cheeks, and the arousal of her nipples beneath her fitted white blouse, now seemed to imply she found him equally physically intriguing.

  Which placed Cesar in the dilemma that he was also no longer certain it would be wise for him to put forward the suggestion that had occurred to him the night before.

  ‘Mr Navarro?’ She looked at him warily now.

  Cesar straightened abruptly before moving to resume his seat behind the desk, effectively putting the width of that desk between them, at the same time as it hid the swell of his arousal. ‘You appear to have made a somewhat...rocky beginning to your employment with me, Miss Blake—’ He broke off as she gave a self-derisive snort. ‘Exactly.’ He nodded tersely. ‘Perhaps, if you are agreeable, we should attempt to start again?’

  What exactly did he mean by that? Grace mused ruefully. Rather than asking her to leave, was he willing to overlook all those embarrassing foot-in-the-mouth things she had said to him, both last night and again this morning, and allow her to continue working for him, after all? If that was the case, then perhaps she had misjudged him and he wasn’t the ruthlessly single-minded—even cold-blooded?—businessman she had believed him to be before the two of them had met?

  And even if he was willing to overlook her outspoken familiarity to date, that didn’t mean he was really going to forget those embarrassing things she had said to him—especially that ‘gorgeously handsome’ remark!

  Or that Grace was going to be able to forget her completely physical reaction to the unexpected sound of his laughter, either.

  She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘I’m really not sure that I’m suited to living out in the wilds of Hampshire for any length of time.’

  ‘This estate is hardly in “the wilds” of anywhere, Miss Blake,’ he drawled. ‘The nearest town is only ten point two kilometres away, and there are twenty other people living within the walls of the estate. Yes, I am aware that the majority of them are my security,’ he added impatiently as Grace would have interrupted. ‘But that does not make them any less other human beings to talk and relate to.’

  Why was she not surprised that Cesar Navarro knew exactly how many kilometres it was to town, or the exact number of people there were working on his estate?

  Grace gave a grimace. ‘They, and the cameras everywhere, make me feel like a goldfish in a bowl.’

  ‘The cameras are not everywhere, Miss Blake.’ He frowned his irritation. ‘There are none in the bathrooms, for example—’

  ‘That would be totally paranoid!’ she came back tartly. ‘Besides being a total invasion of privacy,’ she added.

  ‘You believe me to be paranoid, Miss Blake?’

  There was no missing the steely edge to his tone. ‘I’m not used to having my every move watched—’

  ‘There are no security cameras in here.’

  ‘This is also the one room I’m barred from entering!’

  ‘When I am not in it, yes,’ Cesar conceded, still annoyed at the ‘paranoid’ comment. ‘When the study is empty the motion sensor alarm would go off if you were to enter.’

  ‘Oh, great!’ She eyed him derisively. ‘What exactly do you have in here that’s so valuable I’m not even allowed to come in and dust?’

  Cesar breathed deeply through his nose. ‘This is my sanctuary. Somewhere that I come for complete privacy.’

  ‘To do what, exactly? Do you dance around the room naked on a full moon or something?’

  Cesar’s breath caught in his throat, not even the gleam of laughter he could see in those wide blue-green eyes enough to temper his rising incredulity with this woman. ‘Do you ever stop to think before you speak?’ he prompted softly.

  ‘Usually.’ She grimaced. ‘For some reason, my filter button seems to be on “off” whenever I talk to you.’

  He arched a brow. ‘I make you nervous, perhaps?’

  ‘That’s an understatement!’

  ‘Would you care to explain what it is about me that makes you nervous?’

  Everything would be the answer to that question, Grace realised with dismay. Cesar Navarro was too big, too immediate, too arrogantly sure of himself, too self-contained, the latter to such a degree she was constantly filled with this overwhelming—and uncharacteristic—impulse to try to shock him out of that self-containment. And lastly, he really was too ‘gorgeously handsome’ for his own good.

  She drew in a deep breath. ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  Cesar’s mouth quirked at the firm finality of her tone. ‘Can it be that you are learning some discretion at last?’

  She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘We can always hope so.’

  He nodded. ‘And to answer your previous question—perhaps I just like the feeling of knowing that I could dance around the room naked if I wished to do so?’

  ‘Really?’ Grace looked taken aback.

  Cesar gave a disgusted snort. ‘This conversation really has become too ridiculous!’ He gave an impatient shake of his head as he realised he was now trying to shock her, a dangerous game that could only become even more so.

  ‘I asked to see you this morning because your comments last night, in regard to the isolation of the cottage where you are currently staying, led me to believe, if you are to remain in my employment, that perhaps you might feel more comfortable occupying one of the bedrooms in the east wing of the house rather than remaining in the cottage?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’re asking me to move into the main house with you and Raphael?’

  Cesar’s mouth tightened at the memory of the relationship Grace Blake had believed he had with the other man. ‘I am suggesting that you might feel less isolated if you were to occupy one of the bedrooms in the east wing of the main house,’ he repeated firmly.

  She frowned. ‘That’s a bit of a turnaround from Kevin’s initial comment to me that “no one ever stays in the main house but Mr Navarro and Raphael”, isn’t it?’

  ‘And was it this remark which helped to convince you that Raphael and I must be...a couple?’

  ‘That, along with Raphael’s less than friendly attitude towards me yesterday evening,’ she recalled with a frown.

  Cesar’s mouth twisted into a humourless smile. ‘It did not occur to you that perhaps Raphael’s presence here in the main house, and his “less than friendly attitude”, might be for another reason other than the one you have so obviously jumped to?’

  ‘What other reason?’

  ‘Think, Miss Blake,’ he drawled.

  She shrugged. ‘Well...he’s with you constantly. Deals with your personal things. Serves your food. Obviously views strangers with suspicion until proven otherwise.’

  ‘And what does all of that suggest to you, Miss Blake?’

  ‘That he’s as paranoid as you are?’

  Cesar’s mouth tightened. ‘I may have found some of your outspokenness amusing to date, Miss Blake, but I nevertheless suggest you have a care.’

  What did it suggest to her? Grace puzzled ruefully. There was the obvious conclusion she had come to, of course—and which Cesar Navarro had very firmly squashed! So what other—? ‘He’s your personal bodyguard!’ she realised slowly.

  ‘Well done, Miss Blake.’ He gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘Not only is Raphael my personal bodyguard, but he is head of all my security. Rodney, and others like him at my other properties around the world, report directly to Raphael.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Cesar said. ‘He is a black belt in several of the martial arts, and is also an expert marksman from the years he spent in the army.’

  Grace Blake nodded slowly. ‘That makes sense. Did he actually taste your food last night and this mornin
g before serving it?’ she prompted sharply.

  ‘Now that would be paranoid, Miss Blake.’ Cesar eyed her impatiently. ‘Unless you are suggesting that perhaps there might be some necessity for him to do so in future?’

  Her cheeks warmed. ‘Er—no.’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded briskly. ‘Now, I have some work to do this morning before I leave to spend the day in London. If you would care to give my suggestion regarding staying in the main house some thought, and let me know your decision later today?’ he bit out with abrupt and cold dismissal.

  Grace, having come to Cesar Navarro’s study under the clear impression—conviction—she was about to receive her marching orders for her outspoken comments the previous evening, was now totally confused as she turned to leave, both by the man and his suggestion that she occupy a bedroom in the main house. Not that it didn’t have its appeal, because it did. The cottage was lonely as well as isolated; it reminded her how much she missed her mother, and Beth.

  Though there had been times, Grace reflected ruefully, when she could have done with some personal space, if only to gather her thoughts together long enough to look beyond the daily drudge her life had become: taking care of her mother’s needs in the morning, off to work for the lunchtime trade, and not back again until late in the evening, when she would be constantly on the alert in case her mother should need her during the night.

  The last six months of her mother’s life, when Grace had given up going to work completely, had been even more difficult, with never a single moment in the day or night that she could call her own.

  Not that she in the least regretted or begrudged her mother that twenty-four-hour care—Heather and Clive had cared for and loved her since she was six weeks old, and it was no hardship for her to return that love and care. But it had meant that times of solitude, such as the hours she had spent alone in the cottage on this estate, had become a thing of the past.

  ‘Oh, and Miss Blake?’

  ‘Yes?’ She turned slowly back to face her boss.

  ‘I have invited two guests to dinner on Friday evening, and I would appreciate it if you would organise and cook a special meal for the three of us.’