So not what Grace should be thinking about when she was on her way to spend two nights in Cesar Navarro’s Buenos Aires apartment with him.
Not alone, of course. The ever-watchful Raphael would be with them. And no doubt several security guards. But even so...
As if sensing her gaze on him, Cesar broke off his conversation with Raphael to look across at her enquiringly, one dark brow rising as Grace immediately felt the warmth of colour in her cheeks at being caught ogling him so blatantly. Her colour deepened as he murmured softly to Raphael before standing up to cross the cabin and lower his lean length into the chair opposite Grace’s, all the time looking at her with those enigmatic black eyes, and exuding that aura of raw power that no doubt made him a formidable businessman.
And even more formidable as a man!
‘You are nervous of flying?’ he prompted softly.
‘Not at all,’ Grace dismissed stiffly.
He nodded. ‘Once again you seem a little discomforted by your surroundings?’
‘Overwhelmed, actually,’ she admitted huskily.
‘It is just a jet, Grace,’ he dismissed as he stretched those long legs out in front of him.
‘Just a private jet that the pilot flies wherever you tell him to,’ she corrected, inwardly knowing that this man overwhelmed her more than her surroundings. Maybe she should have confided in Beth, as to her confusion of feelings for this man, after all? Beth had a far more practical way of looking at things than Grace did.
As it was, Cesar seemed different tonight, somehow bigger, more immediate in the confines of this luxurious cabin and dressed in those casual clothes. A physical force to be reckoned with. A physical force that Grace knew she was having more and more difficulty ignoring.
It was...unsettling.
Cesar Navarro was unsettling.
The way he looked tonight. The way he smelt—an expensive cologne, along with that earthy warmth that was purely Cesar. The fact that he appeared to be in control of all that he surveyed.
Probably because he was in control of all he surveyed—including her, Grace acknowledged. She felt wrong-footed and out of her depth sitting beside him in the luxury of his private jet, so much so that she couldn’t think of a single one of those pithy comebacks that had become such a part of their relationship.
They didn’t have a relationship, Grace reminded herself firmly, except for that of employer and employee.
‘There is a bedroom at the back of the plane if you would care to rest for a few hours?’
Grace’s eyes widened. A bedroom? There was a bed on board this plane?
Well, of course there was a bed on the plane, she instantly chided herself; Cesar Navarro flew all over the world on this jet, no doubt often crossing several time zones in the process, and he would need to be able to sleep during those long flights in order to be rested for the business meetings he attended once he arrived at his destination.
She moistened the fullness of her lips before answering him huskily. ‘I couldn’t possibly think of depriving you of your rest.’
He eyed her laughingly. ‘It is a very large bed.’
Her eyes widened. Surely he couldn’t mean— He wasn’t suggesting—? ‘Really, I’m fine here.’ Her cheeks were flushed a bright and revealing red as she gave Raphael a self-conscious glance beneath her lashes.
Cesar also glanced across at his Head of Security, the other man having laid his head back against the chair, his eyes closed as if in sleep. A politeness, of course, to give the impression of allowing a degree of privacy between Cesar and Grace; in all the years Raphael had worked for him, Cesar had never known the other man to fall asleep during one of these long flights. He wasn’t sure the ever-watchful man ever slept!
Cesar’s hooded gaze turned to the red-faced Grace. ‘It is a long flight.’
‘Nevertheless—’
Cesar gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Do you have to argue about everything, Miss Blake?’
She looked back at him curiously. ‘Do you do that deliberately?’
He frowned. ‘Do what deliberately?’
‘Constantly address me as Miss Blake.’
‘It is your name.’ His jaw tightened. ‘And you have not given me permission to call you anything else.’
She raised mocking brows. ‘Do you need my permission?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
‘That’s a very old-fashioned attitude.’
Cesar eyed her impatiently. ‘Or merely an Argentinian courtesy.’
‘Then please call me Grace,’ she invited dryly. ‘And to answer your question, I didn’t argue when you told me we were coming to Buenos Aires for the weekend, did I?’
‘Only because you were too surprised at the time to do so. Speechless, in fact. It was a most refreshing change,’ he added with satisfaction.
An irritated frown creased her creamy brow. ‘Not everyone is used to jumping on their private jet and flying thousands of miles around the world just for a dinner party!’
‘But it is not just any dinner party,’ Cesar drawled ruefully.
She stilled. ‘You should have told me if it’s a special occasion.’
‘Why?’
‘I might have chosen a different menu.’
‘The menu is fine as it is. And I do not find reaching the age of thirty-four a reason for celebration.’ He grimaced.
She gasped. ‘It’s your birthday?’
Cesar glanced down at the expensive watch on his wrist. ‘It would appear so, yes.’
Grace could only stare at him, knowing she really was at a loss for words this time. She was flying to Cesar Navarro’s apartment in Buenos Aires to cook dinner for his birthday party? Well, not a birthday party as such, as there would only be two guests beside himself. Now that she knew it was his birthday, Grace couldn’t help wondering exactly who those other two guests might be. Especially the one who would very much enjoy her chocolate mousse.
Perhaps the same woman currently sharing his silk-sheeted bed? In Buenos Aires, at least.
Grace’s heart sank just imagining being in the same apartment when Cesar shared his bed with another woman.
Oh, dear Lord, where had that thought come from?
She couldn’t be seriously attracted to a man as out of her league as Cesar Navarro? It would be madness on her part. Utter madness, that could—would—only lead to heartbreak.
She gave a firm shake of her head, as much for her own benefit as Cesar’s. ‘I had no idea. You really should have told me it was your birthday.’
‘Would you have baked a cake?’ he asked. ‘Or perhaps bought me a gift?’
‘Yes, to the cake,’ Grace answered distractedly. ‘But what could I possibly buy for the man who already has everything?’ she added tartly.
His mouth thinned. ‘There are many things in life I do not have, Grace.’
‘Such as?’
He shrugged. ‘Such as two parents who still live together, something my own parents have been unable to do happily since we lost Gabriela.’
She gave a soft gasp, her eyes going dark with compassion. ‘Is that the reason your parents separated?’
‘Eventually, yes.’ A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Some families are drawn closer together in such situations, I believe. Others, like my own parents, cannot bear the loss that consumes them every time they look at each other—and I have absolutely no idea why I am telling you any of this!’ He stared at her in exasperation.
‘Maybe because, after all this time, you felt the need to talk to someone about it?’
His nostrils flared. ‘That does not explain why I would choose to talk to you.’
Grace drew back sharply. ‘That was incredibly rude.’
Was Cesar’s annoyance with himself because she was only an employee? Or was it solely because her boss was a very private man, who never discussed his private life with anyone?
‘I apologise,’ he muttered stiffly, staring at her between narrowed lids for several long se
conds before standing up abruptly. ‘If you should change your mind, and wish to rest, the bedroom is through the door at the back of the cabin.’ He strode back to sit in his chair beside Raphael before resting his own head back, closing his eyes and eventually seeming to fall asleep, his expression remaining harshly unforgiving.
It was a sleep that totally eluded Grace. Firstly, because of the tears she felt like shedding because of Cesar’s hurtful rejection of her sympathetic ear. Secondly, because she couldn’t stop thinking about the things Cesar had just told her about his parents. Being adopted, wondering who her real parents might have been, had always been painful enough, but Grace simply couldn’t imagine—didn’t want to imagine!—how heartbreaking it must have been to lose the two-year-old daughter the Navarro family had all so obviously adored.
* * *
‘This is amazing...’
Cesar glanced at the woman seated beside him in the back of the air-conditioned limousine that had been waiting at the airport to drive them into Buenos Aires, Raphael seated in the glass-partitioned front of the car beside the driver, the other man’s expression unreadable behind dark glasses as he kept a constant watch on their surroundings.
Cesar had spent much of the flight here regretting both his conversation with Grace Blake, in regard to his parents, and the tears he had seen in those blue-green eyes when he had brought an abrupt—and, yes, he admitted it, rude—end to that conversation. He never discussed his family with anyone, family or friends, and Grace Blake was neither of those things. Which made his conversation with her all the more bizarre.
His expression softened now as he saw her enthralled expression as she gazed out of the smoked-glass window beside her at the sights and sounds of Buenos Aires. ‘I take it you have never been to Argentina before?’
She gave a shake of her head, the smoothness of her long sable hair cascading silkily down the length of her spine. ‘My parents were both lawyers, and so we could afford to go to places like Florida and the Caribbean for holidays when Beth and I were younger. But we never came to Argentina. I have been to the musical, though, and seen the film, and even have the tee shirt!’ she added ruefully.
Cesar looked at her quizzically. ‘I do not— Ah.’ He nodded. ‘That was the Argentina of fifty years ago. It has become somewhat more cosmopolitan since then.’
‘It’s wonderful!’ Her eyes glowed. ‘I love the way the new buildings, and even the colourful graffiti, complement rather than detract from the older architecture. And the people look so relaxed sitting outside in cafés and restaurants, and I’m sure I saw a crowd watching a couple dance in the street a few minutes ago—’
‘The tango.’ Cesar nodded. ‘It is often performed in many of our streets and squares by roving musicians and dancers, and the crowd is encouraged to join in.’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘Have you ever—? No, of course you haven’t.’ She blushed.
Cesar’s mouth twitched. ‘I have never performed the tango in public, no, but no self-respecting Argentinian man could call himself such if he could not at least dance the tango.’
‘Oh.’ She looked nonplussed.
He arched a brow. ‘And do you also dance the tango?’
‘Badly.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘My parents were really into ballroom dancing, and insisted that Beth and I take lessons in our teens.’
‘My parents, also.’ He nodded.
‘Beth is much better at it than me,’ Grace added affectionately. ‘She has a natural rhythm.’
‘And you do not?’
The huskiness of Cesar’s voice made Grace wonder if they were still talking about dancing the tango?
‘I get by.’ Her gaze dropped from meeting the intensity of that black one as she answered him, her palms becoming slightly damp as she imagined performing that erotic dance with Cesar Navarro, the lean length of his body against hers as they performed the complicated steps, gazing into each other’s eyes as they—
Never going to happen, Grace, she told herself firmly. She was only here to cook, for Cesar’s birthday dinner, no less, not become heated at the thought of performing the tango with him.
She shifted uncomfortably on the leather seat. ‘Do we have much further to go to your apartment? I would really like to freshen up after that long journey.’ After her thoughts of a few minutes ago, a cold shower seemed like a good idea!
‘Another few minutes, that is all.’ He shrugged dismissively before glancing out of the window beside him.
Giving Grace the opportunity to look at him unobserved. He had removed his jacket and turned back the cuffs of his shirt to just below his elbows before getting into the back of the car with her, revealing the muscled length of his lower arms covered in a fine dusting of dark hair, that plain gold watch strapped about his left wrist, his hands wide as they rested on his muscled thighs, his fingers long and graceful, and leading Grace to wonder how those hands would feel—
This had to stop.
Before she made a complete fool of herself!
* * *
‘You were expecting something else...?’ Cesar saw the surprise on Grace Blake’s face as she got slowly out of the car onto the cobbled courtyard of his home in the Recoleta area of Buenos Aires, Raphael busy organising the removal of their luggage from the boot of the car by several of his security team.
‘But I thought you said you lived in an apartment?’
‘The top floor of this building, yes. You were expecting a modern high rise like the ones in your English cities, perhaps?’ Cesar guessed.
Whatever Grace had been expecting it wasn’t this beautiful four-storey mansion house overlooking spacious parkland and gardens, where she could see families picnicking, children playing, and assorted dogs being walked on leads. ‘I had no idea...’ she murmured softly.
Cesar nodded. ‘The area of Recoleta is considered an oasis of peace in an otherwise teeming city.’
A very exclusive—very wealthy—area in an otherwise teeming city, Grace guessed ruefully as she slowly followed Cesar into the coolness of the building, their footsteps sounding loud as they crossed the marble entrance hall to the lifts. Three of them. No doubt a private one for each floor of the building.
‘No Raphael?’ Grace quirked a brow as Cesar stood to one side waiting for her to enter the lift once the doors had glided noiselessly open, finding she was becoming more aware of when the other man wasn’t around now than when he was.
‘He will join us once he has dealt with the luggage,’ Cesar replied as he stepped into the large and mirrored lift beside her.
She really had entered another world when she accepted this job as Cesar Navarro’s cook/housekeeper, Grace acknowledged dazedly. An exclusive world of extensive English estates, private jets, chauffeur-driven limousines, exclusive Buenos Aires apartments—and the inevitable security cameras, she realised as she glanced up ruefully at the one in the corner of the lift.
Cesar’s mouth tightened as he saw the direction of Grace Blake’s gaze. ‘Why do they bother you so much?’ he prompted impatiently as he pressed the button for the lift to ascend.
She turned to look at him. ‘Why don’t they bother you at all?’
He raised one dark brow. ‘Why should they?’
‘Because—well, because they take away any chance of privacy!’
‘And what privacy could you possibly require in a lift?’
‘I—well—I don’t know! It’s just— What are you doing?’ she demanded breathlessly as Cesar turned and placed his hands on the mirrored wall of the lift either side of her head as he looked down at her, the length of his body only inches away from her own as she felt herself tremble at that close proximity.
‘I am endeavouring to demonstrate that my own movements are not in the least inhibited by the presence of those cameras.’ Cesar breathed shallowly as he looked down at her between narrowed lids, his gaze moving slowly from her wide blue-green eyes, down to those endearing freckles across her nose, to the fullness of her pouting lips
.
A pouting mouth that Cesar freely acknowledged he had found himself thinking of far too often these past four days, as he wondered if they would taste as soft and delicious as they looked.
Parted and pouting lips, which Grace now moistened nervously with the tip of her little pink tongue before speaking huskily. ‘Cesar?’
The warmth of her breath was a light caress against his own lips as he angled and lowered his head so that only centimetres now separated them. ‘Yes?’
She shifted uncomfortably. ‘I believe you’ve more than proven your point.’
Cesar continued to look down at her for several long, tense seconds as his usual reserve warred with the increasing need he felt to taste the fullness of Grace Blake’s mouth.
She was his employee, damn it, and a young woman who had simply accompanied her employer to Buenos Aires for the sole purpose of cooking and serving dinner this evening. A beautiful and desirable young woman, but Cesar’s employee, nonetheless.
‘So I have,’ he rasped, his jaw tight as he pushed away from the wall to step back as the lift came to a halt and the doors opened to allow them to step out into the cool entrance hall of his apartment.
Grace followed him slowly on legs that felt decidedly shaky, sure that she must have been mistaken about that brief flare of hunger she thought she’d seen in Cesar Navarro’s jet-black eyes a few seconds ago as he looked down at her mouth; it was more likely to have been displeasure rather than hunger.
As his standing so close to her at all had been a punishment for her criticism, and designed to show her that he really wasn’t in the least bothered by those cameras.
‘Bon dia, Maria,’ Cesar warmly greeted the tiny, grey-haired woman dressed in black who had appeared in the entrance hall.
An entrance hall and apartment that were every bit as opulent as the nineteenth-century architecture outside had indicated it might be: Moorish mosaics on the floors, intricately painted ceilings, along with French cornices decorated in rich gold, and beautiful chandeliers hanging from those arched ceilings, the antique furniture of dark wood, with several low and comfortable-looking sofas.
A Taste of the Forbidden Page 7
