A Taste of the Forbidden Read online

  Huge palatial rooms that Kevin had instructed her to make ready for Cesar’s arrival yesterday, the sitting-room elegantly furnished, the bathroom the height of luxury with its sunken bath and separate glass shower unit, the bedroom dominated by a huge four-poster bed.

  A four-poster bed in which it was now all too easy for Grace to imagine that lean and muscled body nakedly reclining, his tousled hair dark against the cream pillows...

  She clenched her tingling hand into a fist before turning back into the much smaller guest bedroom she had chosen for herself, knowing she had well and truly put her size four feet in it when she had unknowingly talked of Cesar’s sister.

  There had been absolutely no mention of his sister’s death on the website she had looked at before coming here. Probably because, as Cesar had told her yesterday, he owned or had influence over much of today’s media, and the subject of his sister’s death was no more something he wished to be on a public website than the details of his own personal life?

  Whatever the reason, Grace knew that by bringing up the subject of Gabriela she had succeeded in irritating him all over again.

  At this rate she really was going to find herself unemployed again before the end of the week!

  Which might not be a bad thing, considering her completely physical response just now to touching Cesar Navarro...

  * * *

  ‘Mr Navarro has asked that you go through to the dining-room,’ Raphael informed Grace later that evening as she finished preparing a tray of coffee.

  Aware now of Raphael’s role as head of Cesar’s security, Grace had done her best to break the ice between them this evening, ignoring what appeared to be his habitual taciturn nature as she chatted to him lightly between serving the courses. Just general chit-chat, to which she had usually only received acknowledging grunts rather than any real conversation back, but Raphael did seem a little less frosty than he had yesterday.

  ‘I’ll take the tray of coffee through with me, shall I?’ Grace offered lightly.

  ‘If you wish.’ He gave an abrupt inclination of his head as he stepped back.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, Raphael.’ Her eyes danced with laughter as she moved to pick up the silver tray. ‘As I’ve already assured Mr Navarro, I have absolutely no intention of adding poison to his coffee!’

  Raphael’s expression remained stern. ‘You find Mr Navarro’s security a subject for amusement?’

  ‘Well, no, of course not,’ she conceded a little guiltily. ‘But is all this cloak and dagger stuff really necessary?’

  He arched one brow. ‘Cloak and dagger?’

  Grace smiled slightly at how much like his arrogant employer Raphael looked at that moment.

  ‘People, real people, don’t actually live like this, you know. Guards everywhere, security cameras in the grounds and most of the rooms, movement sensors in the ones that don’t,’ she elaborated as Raphael continued to look down at her blankly.

  ‘You are suggesting that Cesar is not a real person?’

  ‘Of course not, I just—’ She gave an uncomfortable shake of her head. ‘I just find it all a little over the top.’

  There was a slight softening about the stern set of Raphael’s mouth. ‘I realise that, to outsiders, this level of security might seem extreme.’

  ‘And I’m definitely an outsider,’ Grace muttered ruefully.

  ‘Perhaps if you were aware—’ Raphael broke off abruptly. ‘People in Cesar’s position are vulnerable to any number of dangers.’

  ‘People as wealthy as him, you mean?’

  ‘If you will, yes,’ Raphael confirmed flatly.

  ‘And to think, I never realised before that there were advantages to being poor!’ she came back ruefully.

  Raphael gave a brief wince of exasperation. ‘Cesar warned me that you can be...somewhat unusual, in some of your comments.’

  Grace gave a shrug. ‘So you think all of this is necessary?’ Did Cesar Navarro really need to have a personal bodyguard, namely Raphael, accompany him everywhere? For his place of residence—whichever of his homes around the world that might be!—to be kept constantly under surveillance, by cameras as well as numerous security guards?

  ‘Family history would imply so, yes,’ Raphael answered unhelpfully. ‘Mr Navarro is still waiting,’ he reminded, giving the vaguest of smiles as he pointedly opened the kitchen door for her.

  ‘Thanks,’ Grace accepted dryly as she swept jauntily out of the room with the laden tray; heaven forbid Mr Navarro should be kept waiting.

  Although that jauntiness faded as Grace made her way through the house to the dining-room, as she wondered what family history Raphael could be referring to.

  Only for those thoughts to fade the nearer she got to the dining-room, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she remembered her completely physical response earlier to just touching Cesar Navarro’s arm, her hand having continued to tingle long after he had left her bedroom.

  After he had left her bedroom...

  Maybe moving into the main house hadn’t been such a good idea, after all?

  It really was too late to be pondering the wisdom of that now, when she had already moved in.

  Besides which, Cesar was way, way out of her league. He inhabited a different world from her. Financially, socially, physically.

  Oh, most definitely physically...

  It seemed ludicrous to her now to think she had ever believed Cesar Navarro and Raphael might be a couple; her boss might be remote, even coldly disciplined, but there had been a definite physical appreciation in the darkness of his hooded gaze earlier as he stood in the doorway to her bedroom looking so virile and male, in the black vest top and black jogging trousers, the darkness of his hair tousled from his exertions in the gym.

  Dark and tousled hair Grace’s fingers had ached to touch!

  And a maleness that made her legs weak!

  ‘Please come in, Miss Blake,’ he said in answer to her knock on the dining-room door. ‘Was the knock because you expected me to be dancing around the room naked?’ he prompted dryly as Grace pushed open the door and entered the room.

  ‘Not with the security cameras in here, no,’ she came back pertly, her gaze avoiding that mocking dark one as she crossed the dining-room and placed the tray down on the table in front of him.

  But not before Grace had a chance to take in his appearance, in a loose white silk shirt that emphasised the width of those muscled shoulders and the leanness of his abdomen, several buttons undone at his throat, revealing the start of that silky dark hair on his chest.

  She straightened abruptly. ‘Raphael said you wanted to talk to me?’

  Cesar observed Grace between narrowed lids as he saw her own lids were lowered—in order to avoid meeting his gaze?—and so allowing him opportunity to take in her appearance in another formal white blouse and black skirt, the long length of her hair once again secured at her crown; a stark contrast to those tight jeans and that fitted tee shirt she had been wearing earlier, with that long sable-coloured hair allowed to flow loosely down the length of her slender spine.

  He straightened in his chair. ‘Sit down, Miss Blake.’

  Her surprised gaze flicked up to his and then down again. ‘That really wouldn’t be appropriate to employer-employee relations, Mr Navarro.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘I am that employer, Miss Blake, and I have asked that you sit.’

  ‘Not to be nitpicking, but I believe you told rather than—’

  ‘Madre mia! Sit down, Miss Blake!’ he thundered in exasperation.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ she acquiesced hastily as she obviously heard that impatience in his tone, moving to the other end of the table before pulling out the chair and perching on the edge of it. ‘Raphael wouldn’t approve, you know,’ she muttered.

  ‘I do not recall asking for Raphael’s approval.’ Cesar looked down the length of the table at her.

  Grace was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she and Cesar Navarro were alone in t
he dining room. Except they weren’t, not really—because those intrusive security cameras were even now recording their every move!

  ‘As I have no intention of shouting down the table at you I suggest you move a little closer,’ he advised impatiently.

  A frown creased Grace’s brow. ‘Was there something wrong with your dinner? Because, if so—’

  ‘As I am sure you are well aware, my meal this evening was, as last night, excellent,’ Cesar drawled dismissively. ‘I just have no intention of raising my voice in order to be heard,’ he added pointedly.

  ‘Oh.’ She got up to move awkwardly back down the length of the table before sitting gingerly on the chair to the left of where he sat at the head of the table. ‘Do you enjoy eating alone?’

  Cesar blinked. ‘It is not a matter of enjoyment or otherwise; I live alone so I eat alone.’

  ‘But you could have invited any number of—’ She broke off with a wince.

  ‘Those hordes of beautiful woman I take to my silk-sheeted bed every night to join me?’

  The colour brightened her cheeks. ‘Yes.’

  ‘She is back, I see.’ Cesar smiled tightly.

  Grace Blake blinked. ‘“She”?’

  ‘The outspoken Miss Blake,’ he drawled dryly as he relaxed back in his chair to regard her with mocking dark eyes.

  Grace gave a rueful grimace, her shoulders slumping slightly. ‘And I was really trying this time, too!’

  ‘Then, again, you obviously failed.’ He shrugged.

  It was becoming something of an occupational hazard where this man was concerned, Grace acknowledged heavily.

  ‘Do you approve of the menu for Friday evening?’ She changed the subject as she saw the menu she had written out for him, and sent up with Raphael earlier, lying on the table beside Cesar Navarro’s place setting.

  ‘I am sure my two guests will thoroughly enjoy it.’ He nodded.

  ‘And you?’

  He gave a haughty inclination of his head. ‘And me.’

  Especially the sexy chocolate mousse?

  The thought came unbidden into Grace’s head. And just as quickly she wished that it hadn’t. Imagining Cesar Navarro in the throes of orgasmic bliss was really not a good idea!

  ‘Was that all?’

  ‘Would you care to join me for coffee?’

  Grace’s eyes widened at the unexpected invitation. ‘I only brought one cup.’

  ‘Then perhaps a glass of brandy?’ He indicated the decanter and glasses on the side dresser.

  She gave another grimace. ‘I tend to get even more outspoken if I drink alcohol.’ And, as this man had already observed—on more than one occasion!—she was already verbose enough in his company, without a glass of brandy to loosen her tongue even further!

  ‘I believe I am willing to take the risk if you are, Miss Blake?’ There was no missing the amusement in Cesar’s tone.

  And Grace had never been one to back down from a challenge.

  ‘In that case, thank you,’ she accepted stiffly.

  He rose and crossed the room to pour brandy into two of the crystal glasses, shoulders wide and waist lean beneath the white silk shirt, tailored black trousers sitting loosely on his hips as he again moved with all the silent grace of a predator.

  Because he was a predator, of the sharp-toothed variety, Grace reminded herself as she carefully avoided so much as touching his fingers as she took the glass of brandy from him, too aware of her earlier reaction to lightly touching his arm to want a repeat of that skin-tingling experience.

  He resumed his seat at the head of the table, the darkness of his gaze easily holding hers over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his own drink before speaking.

  ‘You do not appear to be drinking, Miss Blake.’

  Grace gave a pained frown. ‘That’s probably because I’m a little...uncertain of why I’m here?’

  ‘At this precise moment you are being invited to enjoy a glass of brandy,’ he drawled with a pointed glance towards her untouched glass of the deep amber liquid.

  She moistened her lips, and instantly wished she hadn’t as those lips instantly became the focus of that dark and hawkish gaze. Her cheeks warmed under the intensity of those piercing dark eyes, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out to pick up the beautiful crystal glass before taking a tentative sip of the contents. ‘Excellent,’ she murmured appreciatively. ‘But then, it would be, wouldn’t it?’ She shrugged. ‘Only the best for Cesar Navarro,’ she explained ruefully as he arched a questioning brow.

  His mouth thinned. ‘And you do not approve?’

  ‘It’s not for me to approve or disapprove of anything you do.’ Grace avoided looking at him as she placed the glass carefully back on the place mat so as not to mark the oak dining table.

  ‘I assure you, that has not been my experience so far,’ he replied dryly.

  The heat intensified in Grace’s cheeks. ‘I did warn you what happens when I drink alcohol.’

  ‘So you did,’ he conceded. ‘Tell me, have you ever considered the idea of opening your own restaurant?’

  ‘Sorry?’ She was taken aback at the sudden change of subject.

  Cesar slowly sipped his brandy before repeating the question. ‘I asked if you have ever thought of opening your own restaurant.’

  Only every day since Grace reached the age of sixteen and knew she wanted to become the best chef in England!

  It was a pipe dream, of course. Oh, she had gone to Paris to study under a master chef, worked in several hotels there once she had completed her training, before moving back to England to become the pastry chef in one of the leading hotels in London. But the dream of one day opening her own restaurant was still just that, and always would be.

  She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘That takes capital I simply don’t have, Mr Navarro.’

  ‘I understood that you owned half of your parents’ house in London?’

  That damned security check again! Was there anything this man didn’t know about her?

  ‘And my sister owns the other half. A house we both live in,’ she added pointedly. ‘Talking of which... Would it be okay for Beth to come down here and stay with me one weekend?’

  Cesar smiled tightly. ‘I was not aware that you needed my permission to invite your sister to visit you?’

  She grimaced. ‘But I do need you to okay the visit with Raphael in order for the security guards to allow Beth through the gates.’

  Cesar stood up impatiently. ‘No matter what you may think to the contrary, Miss Blake, you are not a prisoner here.’

  ‘Does that mean I can invite Beth?’

  ‘Of course you may invite—’ Cesar broke off, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw as he drew in a deep, controlling breath. He never raised his voice in anger. Had never needed to. Before the annoying Grace Blake entered his life, that was. ‘As long as you inform Raphael first, you may invite any visitor here that you wish.’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s only Beth.’

  He arched dark brows. ‘No man to share your own silk-sheeted bed?’

  ‘My bed doesn’t have silk sheets.’ Her cheeks blazed a fiery red. ‘Nor, if it did, is there a man in my life to share it with.’

  ‘Currently?’

  She frowned. ‘Ever!’

  He frowned slightly. ‘Are you being coy, Miss Blake?’

  ‘I’m saying, as politely as possible, that my private life is none of your damned business.’ Anger now underlined her tone. ‘Now, can my sister visit one weekend or not?’

  Cesar gave a cool inclination of his head. ‘I have said that she may. Not this weekend, of course, because we will not be back until Sunday. But—’

  ‘Back?’ She looked up at him blankly. ‘Back from where?’

  Cesar realised from the blankness of the expression on Grace Blake’s face that he had somehow omitted to tell her where his dinner party was to take place on Friday evening. The dinner party she would be catering...

&
nbsp; CHAPTER FIVE

  Buenos Aires!

  UNBELIEVABLE AS IT still seemed to Grace, she found herself seated in Cesar Navarro’s private jet late on Thursday night, on her way to his home in the Argentinian capital, for the sole purpose of cooking a meal for him and the two guests he had informed her would be with him for dinner tomorrow evening.

  People actually did things like this! Well...it seemed that Cesar Navarro actually did things like this.

  It had taken the rest of that glass of brandy for Grace to recover from the shock of learning she was expected to go Buenos Aires with him for the weekend.

  Grace had immediately telephoned Beth to ask if she could courier her passport down to her, Beth no more happy than Grace once she had explained why she needed that passport, her sister agreeing to courier over the passport at the same time as she questioned the wisdom of Grace going to Argentina for the weekend with a man she had only just met, even if he was her employer.

  Grace thought of confiding in Beth as to her own reservations, only to as quickly dismiss the idea; having only just met the man, Grace felt it best not to admit to Beth just how disturbed she was at the prospect of going away for the weekend to a city reputed to be as throbbing with excitement as Buenos Aires—with a man who clearly made her throb with excitement!

  She glanced across at him now as he and Raphael talked softly together as they sat in two of the armchairs across from her own in the luxurious cabin of the private jet, six comfortable chairs in all, the rest of the space given over to two sofas, several tables, and a wide-screened television. There was also a fully equipped galley, from where the steward had served them with a meal worthy of any of the restaurants or hotels Grace had worked in the last four years, and where her fresh ingredients for tomorrow night’s dinner had been stored in one of the huge refrigerators.

  Cesar had informed her that it was early spring in Argentina at the moment, and advised that Grace dress warmly, which she had done, by wearing jeans and a jumper.

  Nevertheless, she had been unprepared for Cesar’s own casual appearance in a loose black shirt unbuttoned at his throat and worn beneath a black leather jacket, faded denims that fitted low on the leanness of his hips, and heavy black boots. And if that wasn’t enough to set her pulse racing, there was always the overlong darkness of his hair in that usual tousled style, that made Grace long to thread her fingers through it and see if it really was as silky soft as it looked.