A Taste of the Forbidden

The set of rules she had been given before she arrived, and the level of security once she had got here, were all alien enough, but Grace could actually feel Cesar Navarro’s presence in the house now. A dark and arrogantly brooding presence that seemed to pervade the entire estate. Kevin Maddox certainly wasn’t as relaxed and congenial as he had seemed at their two interviews, or during their telephone conversation yesterday, and no doubt Rodney, and his group of security cronies, were on even higher alert now that their boss was in residence.

How did people live in this way? How did Cesar Navarro live this way? Constantly shielded, in a protective bubble, set apart from the real world? Grace had no idea, but it certainly wasn’t a lifestyle she would ever want for herself. Not that she would ever be rich enough, or important enough, to need to bother!

She gave Kevin a bright, noncommittal smile. ‘The cottage is lovely, and this kitchen is amazing.’ She looked about her appreciatively.

‘That’s good.’ He nodded, obviously pleased with her answer. ‘Raphael will be down shortly to check on Mr Navarro’s dinner.’ He gave a glance at his wristwatch as he straightened. ‘Time I was leaving.’

‘You don’t stay here when Mr Navarro is in residence?’ It was impossible for Grace to keep the disappointment from her tone.

Kevin shrugged. ‘No one ever stays in the main house but Mr Navarro and Raphael.’

Mr Navarro and Raphael?

‘Is Raphael just over six feet tall, with a masculine build, probably aged in his late twenties or early thirties, with dark hair and blue eyes?’ she prompted, describing the man she had seen with Navarro in that photo.

‘That pretty much describes him, yes,’ Kevin confirmed cheerfully. ‘How did you—? Ah, here he is now …’ He turned as the other man entered the kitchen.

Yes, it was indeed that same dark-haired man.

Mr Navarro and Raphael.

Maybe Grace’s previous thoughts on that subject weren’t too far off the mark, after all?

Oh, well, live and let live had always been Grace’s motto; two of her closest female friends in Paris had been a couple. In fact, they still were, the three of them having kept in regular contact since Grace had returned to England four years ago.

Not that Grace had chance to learn anything more about Raphael, or their employer, once Kevin had introduced the two of them and then taken his leave.

Raphael was kept busy going efficiently to and fro between the kitchen and the dining-room during the next hour as he served Cesar Navarro himself, the sternness of his expression not encouraging after the first couple of times Grace had tried to engage him in conversation and received only a grunt in reply.

Consequently, by the time Raphael gathered up the silver tray on which Grace had put the pot of strong black coffee—Navarro’s personal brew, brought with him from Argentina, of course!—she was feeling more than a little exhausted, from all of her work today, as well as the strain of trying to engage the taciturn Raphael in conversation. So much so that she didn’t even demur when Raphael curtly told her she was dismissed for the evening as he left the kitchen with the coffee tray.

Grace felt too weary to leave immediately, instead sinking down onto one of the four stools about the cream marble-topped breakfast bar. If this evening’s tension, along with that restrictive security, was an example of how the next month was going to be, then she didn’t think she was going to make it through the trial period. No matter how good—or welcome—the pay was!

CHAPTER TWO

‘DIOS MIO!’

Grace shot to her feet at the first sound of that harshly surprised voice, feeling the colour draining from her cheeks as she looked across the shadowed darkness of the kitchen at the tall and imposing—and instantly recognisable!—figure of Cesar Navarro. He stood silhouetted in the kitchen doorway, those equally recognisable black eyes glittering across at her with piercing intensity.

Having finally recovered after Raphael had dismissed her, Grace had decided not to return to her lonely cottage just yet but to wash and clear away the last of the dinner things, rather than having to deal with them first thing in the morning.

Against her boss’s instructions, she now realised.

Instructions that Kevin had informed her no one ever questioned—or disobeyed?

To make matters worse, she had once again been sitting at the breakfast bar, this time with only the light on over the cooker to break the stilled darkness, and enjoying the chocolate mousse Kevin had earlier told her Navarro didn’t eat.

She swallowed hard. ‘Mr Navarro …’

‘Miss Blake, I presume?’ His voice sounded dark and husky in the still of the night, his accent having a slightly Transatlantic twang to it; no doubt courtesy of his American mother.

Grace ran the dampness of her palms down her black pencil skirt, wishing—oh, God, how she wished!—that she had gone back to her cottage as she was supposed to do. So much for her assertion to Beth of doubting she would set eyes on Cesar Navarro any time soon! As it was, Grace was probably not going to be given any choice about whether or not she wanted to complete the whole month’s trial period.

‘I—’ She moistened the dryness of her lips. ‘I have no excuse. I shouldn’t be here. Kevin—Mr Maddox told me that I had to be out of the main house by nine o’clock, and Raphael dismissed me earlier. I just—it was still early, and I didn’t want to go back to the cottage and be alone just yet, and I thought, or rather I decided to clear away so that I didn’t have to do it in the morning,’ she finished lamely.

Cesar had showered and gone to bed an hour ago, but having read through some business papers for that hour, he had then decided to come down to the kitchen for a glass of juice before going to sleep. He certainly hadn’t expected to see the young woman Maddox had engaged as cook/housekeeper of his English home when he got there!

Grace Blake’s file stated she was twenty-six years old, and yet she looked much younger than that as she stood in the beam of light given off by the single bulb over the cooker, standing only a little over five feet in height, her frame petite in a plain white blouse and black skirt. The sable darkness of her hair was pulled back and secured in a ponytail, leaving her ivory-skinned throat and make-up-less face fully exposed. And it was, as Cesar had guessed earlier this evening, a beautiful face: blue-green eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes, with a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her short, straight nose and high cheekbones, her cheeks slightly hollow, as if she had recently lost weight, her lips a perfect bow above a stubbornly determined chin.

Cesar’s mouth thinned as he stepped further into the dark shadows of the kitchen. ‘Correct me if I am wrong, but you seem to be eating … chocolate mousse,’ he drawled after glancing towards the glass bowl sitting on the breakfast bar, ‘rather than clearing away?’

‘Yes. Well.’ Those ivory cheeks blushed prettily. ‘I finished clearing away, and I—I had already made the mousse for your dinner before Kevin—Mr Maddox—told me that you don’t eat dessert.’

He arched haughty brows. ‘And so you decided to eat it yourself?’

‘No! Well … yes.’ She grimaced uncomfortably as the half full glass bowl on the breakfast bar mocked her denial. ‘But only because I was feeling—’ She broke off with a wince. ‘Again, there’s no excuse, and I apologise.’

‘Because you were feeling …?’

‘I’m used to living in London, you see, and the cottage is quite a distance from the main house, and on its own, and it’s so quiet that I—Oh, to hell with this!’ All the tension went out of the slenderness of her shoulders as she sighed heavily. ‘Why doesn’t someone just shoot me now and get it over with?’

Cesar’s brows rose even higher. ‘Shoot you?’

‘Yes.’ Grace Blake grimaced self-derisively. ‘Just bring in Rodney, or one of his cohorts, and have them shoot me now.’

‘You are referring to my chief security guard here?’

‘If he’s the same Rodney standing guard at the main gates, then, yes, that’s him.’ She nodded. ‘I thought he was thawing towards me a little when I spoke to him earlier today, but I’m sure that if you were to tell him that I stole and ate your chocolate mousse, then he’ll be only too glad to dispatch me—or whatever it is they call shooting someone in security guard jargon.’

Cesar couldn’t decide whether to laugh—something he did all too rarely—at this young woman’s unusual and forthright manner, or do as she suggested, and call for Rodney—but only so that the other man might escort her back to her cottage in the grounds, rather than shoot her! ‘You seriously think that Rodney would shoot you because you have eaten a chocolate mousse belonging to me?’

She grimaced. ‘I seriously think he would do whatever you told him to do, no questions asked.’

Cesar hid his surprise at her statement behind hooded lids. ‘I believe cold-blooded murder is illegal in this country.’

‘Any sort of murder is illegal in this country,’ she corrected pertly. ‘But, with the level of security you have here, I doubt very much if you were to hide my body in the woods behind the house that anyone would ever find it.’

Cesar doubted very much that he had ever had a stranger conversation in his life. Strange, and yet somehow compelling at the same time. In as much as he had no idea what Miss Grace Blake was going to say next.

‘You were about to tell me how you were feeling before you ate the chocolate mousse?’ he prompted as he stepped fully into the beam of light.

Grace couldn’t speak at all as she got her very first look at Cesar Navarro ‘in the flesh’, as Beth had put it. Good grief, the man was—Well, he was—The only word Grace could think of at that moment was breathtaking.

He was at least a foot taller than her own five feet three inches, the darkness of his overlong hair still in that rakishly tousled style—naturally so, judging from the slight wave in that midnight darkness—and those dark and glittering eyes were surrounded by the longest, thickest lashes Grace had ever seen, on a man or a woman, his cheekbones high in that swarthy face, his nose thin and aristocratic, with sculpted lips—sexily sculpted lips!—above a square and determined jaw.

But it was probably what he was wearing—or, rather, what he wasn’t wearing—that surprised Grace the most.

In the photograph she had seen of him he had been the height of understated—and, no doubt, expensive—elegance, in a perfectly tailored dark suit and white shirt, with a meticulously knotted silver tie at his throat. This evening he was dressed in a fitted black tee shirt that defined the muscled width of his shoulders and chest, leaving his equally muscled arms bare, and clinging to reveal the flat contours of his stomach—not an ounce of that middle-aged spread in sight!—with loose-fitting grey sweat-pants sitting low on the leanness of his hips, his long and elegant feet completely bare on the terracotta floor tiles.

Was he dressed for going to bed, or working out in the gym in the east wing of the house, which Grace had also discovered when she went exploring earlier today? He certainly didn’t look all hot and sweaty, which he surely would have if it were the latter. Probably the former, too, if he hadn’t gone to bed alone …

Whatever the reason for his casual clothing, his presence in the kitchen seemed to have sucked up all the air in the room, making it difficult for Grace to breathe, and his lean and muscled frame looked immense in the confines of the darkened kitchen, so much so that she felt sure he must rival in muscle any and all of the security guards he surrounded himself with.

‘What a waste …’ Grace heard herself murmur—and then winced as she realised she had spoken completely without thinking; just because she suspected that this man and Raphael were involved, there was no reason for her to say it out loud. In the circumstances, it was the last thing she should have said!

‘Miss Blake?’ Cesar prompted tersely.

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’ She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘What was I feeling before I ate the chocolate mousse?’ she repeated desperately as she saw the way those dark eyes had narrowed speculatively. ‘Homesick, if you really want to know, and a little lonely. And chocolate always has a way of making things seem a little less bleak, don’t you think? No, of course you don’t, because you don’t eat sweet things. Why is that, by the way?’ She looked up at him questioningly, and then wished she hadn’t as she felt a decided click in her already tense neck.

Something that would become an occupational hazard if she had to stand and have too many conversations with this man. Which clearly wasn’t going to happen, because he was going to have Rodney shoot her and hide her body in the woods—

And you’re becoming hysterical, Grace, she admonished self-disgustedly. Unfortunately that realisation in no way helped to dispel those feelings, if her next comment was any indication, or the way in which she appreciatively eyed the muscled expanse of Cesar Navarro’s chest when she made it. ‘It certainly can’t be because you’re afraid of putting on unnecessary pounds.’

No, Cesar acknowledged ruefully, he really didn’t have any idea what Grace Blake was going to say—or do!—next. Nor was he about to explain to this strange young lady that he had given up eating desserts because he considered them unnecessary frivolities. ‘Did you perhaps drink some of my wine, too, this evening, in an effort to dispel those feelings of loneliness?’

‘Certainly not.’ She looked indignant at the suggestion. ‘I rarely drink, and never when I’m at work.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ he drawled dryly.

She blinked, obviously unsure as to whether or not he was being sarcastic. ‘I’m just a little tired, that’s all.’

And a lot emotional, was Cesar’s guess.

He straightened. ‘In that case, perhaps it would be better if we were to continue this conversation in the morning.’

Those blue-green eyes widened. ‘Am I still going to be here in the morning?’

‘As opposed to being “dispatched” and buried in the woods behind the house?’ Cesar murmured softly.

Colour once again warmed her ivory cheeks. ‘Maybe that was a little hysterical of me.’

He arched mocking brows. ‘A little?’

Her eyes snapped with temper. ‘Well, you would hardly have security guards here in the first place if you didn’t intend for them to protect you, should the need arise!’

His mouth thinned impatiently. ‘I do, however, draw the line at asking them to shoot outspoken cook/housekeepers. Even temporary ones,’ he added abruptly.

‘Oh.’ Her guilty gaze dropped from meeting his as she obviously accepted that summary of her conduct so far this evening.

‘Unless you are suggesting I might be in need of protection from you?’

Grace’s breath had lodged somewhere in her throat as the sultry huskiness of his tone brought to mind—totally inappropriately!—thoughts of running her fingers up that broad and muscled chest to his tousled, just-had-sex hair, as she brought his mouth down to hers and—

Oh, good grief!

She must be feeling lonlier than she had realised if she was having thoughts of kissing Cesar Navarro, of all men. If she was having thoughts of kissing any man she had just met!

Oh, she’d had her share of boyfriends over the years, but none of those relationships had been in the least serious. She certainly hadn’t been so bowled over by the sheer sensuality of any of those men that she had fantasised about kissing him within minutes of meeting him!

She wasn’t fantasising about kissing her new boss, either! What would be the point, when his sexual inclinations obviously lay in a different direction?

‘No, of course not,’ Grace assured him briskly. ‘As you say, perhaps it would be better if we finished this conversation in the clear light of day.’

He continued to look down at her with those brooding dark eyes for several long seconds, before slowly nodding his head. ‘I will call for Rodney—so that he may escort you to your cottage, not “dispatch” you,’ he snapped his impatience as Grace’s eyes widened in alarm.

She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’m quite capable of walking back to the cottage unescorted.’

His mouth tightened. ‘It is late, and very dark outside.’

Grace grimaced. ‘And there are so many security guards out there that there’s no way anyone from outside could possibly get in and attack me!’

Cesar’s eyes narrowed. ‘You seem overly concerned by the presence of my security guards?’

‘Perhaps just curious as to the need for so many of them?’

His mouth tightened. ‘I am not in the habit of explaining myself. To anyone.’

‘Least of all temporary employees.’ Grace nodded. ‘It’s the cameras everywhere that give me the creeps.’ She glanced up at one of those cameras in the corner of the kitchen, the pulsing red light showing that it was a live feed. ‘You do realise that someone in the basement is watching the two of us right now?’

‘But they cannot hear our conversation,’ he assured her impatiently.

‘Which is probably as well!’ Grace grimaced. ‘My remarks haven’t exactly been polite,’ she admitted ruefully as Cesar raised questioning brows.

No, this young woman’s conversation had been far from the politeness he was used to, Cesar acknowledged derisively. So much so that he found Miss Blake’s conversation strangely … refreshing, after years of stating his wants and needs and knowing they would be immediately satisfied; Grace Blake gave the impression she didn’t do anyone’s bidding unquestioningly.

As evidenced by the vase of pink lilies, which had adorned the table in the entrance hall earlier today, but which now stood in the middle of the kitchen table.

‘It seemed a pity to waste them,’ Grace defended quickly as she saw where the darkness of Cesar Navarro’s compelling gaze now rested.

His jaw tightened. ‘My instructions were for them to be—’

‘Removed from the hallway,’ Grace put in quickly. ‘And, as you can see, I have removed them.’

‘And instead placed them in the kitchen.’

‘Well … yes.’ Her cheeks burnt with colour. ‘I only bought them this morning, and I couldn’t bear to just throw them out when they’re so beautiful. The perfume is absolutely divi—’ She broke off as he continued to look steadily down the long length of his aristocratic nose at her. ‘Maybe I could take them back to my cottage with me? Or would you consider that as stealing from you, too?’

‘And, again, punishable by death?’ he drawled dryly.

‘I’ve already admitted I may have let my imagination wander a little on that one.’ Grace winced at his obvious derision.

Cesar Navarro’s expression was completely inscrutable as he turned to take the kitchen phone from its charger before pressing several buttons. ‘I am merely calling Rodney so that he can escort—Rodney? Yes,’ he bit out tersely into the receiver while the darkness of his gaze remained firmly fixed on Grace. ‘No, there is no problem, but I would like you to escort Miss Blake back to her cottage. Yes, I am aware that should have been the case. Unfortunately Miss Blake seems incapable of following even the simplest of instructions.’

She gasped. ‘That’s hardly fair—’

‘The kitchen.’ Cesar completely ignored Grace’s protest as he continued to talk to his English Head of Security. ‘One minute? I am sure that Miss Blake and I will be able to amuse ourselves for that length of time,’ he drawled before abruptly ending the call and putting the phone back on its stand before folding his arms over his muscled chest to once again look down the length of his nose at her.

Grace eyed him in frustration. ‘How nice to know that Rodney now thinks I’m some sort of a security risk!’

Cesar raised one dark brow. ‘And is Rodney’s opinion of such importance to you?’

‘It is when he’s licensed to carry a gun!’

His mouth thinned. ‘You are uncomfortable with that knowledge?’

She grimaced. ‘I think intimidated might be a better way of describing it.’

Cesar had lived with this high level of security for more than half his lifetime, and rarely noticed it any more; he had certainly never considered how other people might react to being constantly under surveillance. Not that it mattered to him how Grace Blake felt about it; the security that surrounded him and his family was for a specific reason, and he had no intention of changing it to suit his English cook/housekeeper. His on-a-one-month’s-trial English cook/housekeeper …

‘Ah, Rodney.’ He turned to look at the other man as he let himself quietly in by the back door. ‘Miss Blake is ready to leave.’

‘This really isn’t necessary,’ Grace Blake protested with obvious discomfort.

‘I have already explained the reasons I consider it important—’

‘Oh, well, that makes it all right, then!’

Cesar’s eyes narrowed at her obvious sarcasm. ‘Do not forget to take the lilies with you,’ he reminded as she turned to follow the silent Rodney. ‘Take the vase, too,’ he added wearily as she attempted to remove the flowers and immediately dripped water all over the table top.

‘I—thank you.’ She quickly wiped the table before gathering the cut-glass vase up in her arms, and was instantly dwarfed by both its weight and the height of the flowers.

‘Rodney?’ Cesar gave the other man an exasperated glance.

‘Yes, sir.’ His English Head of Security was obviously having the same problem as Cesar had earlier as he took the vase of flowers out of Grace Blake’s arms, in as much as it took great effort on his part not to laugh at her disgruntled expression. Evidence, perhaps, that Rodney was, as Grace Blake had thought earlier, thawing towards her?

Understandably so, perhaps, when not only was Miss Blake naturally beautiful, but her forthright way of talking was entertaining, to say the least.

‘Goodnight, Miss Blake,’ Cesar bit out dismissively as Rodney stood back politely in order to allow her to precede him out of the kitchen.

She turned slightly, her gaze not quite meeting his as she nodded. ‘Mr Navarro.’

Cesar waited until she and Rodney had both departed the kitchen, the door locked securely behind them, before his mouth curved into a rueful smile at the strangeness of their encounter.

Grace Blake was not at all what he had been expecting of his newest employee. She was too young. Too beautiful. And far too outspoken!

There was no denying that she was an excellent cook, however; the meal she had prepared for him earlier this evening was as good as anything Cesar had ever eaten in any of the exclusive restaurants he frequented all over the world.

Speaking of which …

Cesar bent slightly to pick up the bowl of half-eaten chocolate mousse from the marble-topped breakfast bar, ignoring the teaspoon sticking out of it in favour of dipping the tip of one of his fingers into the thick concoction before bringing it up to his lips.

Only to give an involuntary groan as the richness of the deliciously creamy chocolate hit his taste buds, almost—but not quite!—with the same force of the physical pleasure experienced during sex.

Not that Cesar allowed himself to indulge in that luxury too often, either; he preferred to maintain tight control over all areas of his life, no matter what the cost to his personal comfort.

Nevertheless …

Another dip of the fingertip, a taste, another groan of ecstasy, and Cesar gave up all idea of leaving the kitchen before he had eaten every last temptingly decadent scoop of it.

‘Come in, Miss Blake.’

Grace felt her tension rising as Cesar Navarro responded dryly to her knock on the door to his study at eight-thirty the following morning. The do-not-ever-enter study that she had been summoned to just a few short minutes ago, when Kevin had sought her out in the kitchen for the sole purpose of telling her that Mr Navarro wanted to see her immediately.