Fire And Desire

He smiled. “I will.” He lifted a skewer and with his teeth pulled a piece of sauce-covered meat into his mouth without flinching. He smiled a slow, seductive smile.

Corinthians tried hard not to stare, but watching him chew his food was having an arousing effect on her. An involuntary shudder of simmering heat ripped through her. Her gaze followed every contoured movement of his mouth. Its motion was slow, provocative and alluring. She could just imagine his mouth working those same slow, steady and measured movements on hers, smothering her lips with demanding intensity. She tinted a darker shade, mortified because she'd had such thoughts.

“Want some?”

The sound of Trevor's voice, deep and husky, startled Corinthians. She tinted at having been caught staring. She ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them before asking. “Want some what?”

Trevor leaned over toward her and whispered, “Some of my food, what else?”

Corinthians took a deep breath. He was back to being arrogant again. She frowned at him. “No, I don't want any of your food. Mine suits me just fine,” she snapped irritably, annoyed for letting him have such an effect on her. She had to get away from him to retain her sanity.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal,” she said brusquely, motioning to the waitress to bring her check.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asked, looking at her curiously.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to my room. I plan on doing some sightseeing in São Paulo all day tomorrow and want to get a good night's sleep.”

“Can I tag along tomorrow?”

Corinthians was startled. “I prefer that you didn't.”

Trevor didn't look up as he poured more sauce on his meat. “Why not? Like you said earlier, we're two professional adults.” He lifted his gaze to hers and grinned. “Surely we can put our dislike for each other aside for at least one day.”

“I don't think us spending time together is a good idea.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Because I do.”

Trevor pushed his plate aside. “Then let's discuss why you feel that way and really get to the crux of the problem. Don't you think two years is a long time for you to carry a chip on your shoulder?”

“I'm not carrying a chip on my shoulder. And I prefer not talking about that night. I don't even like thinking about it.”

“Then don't.”

“That's easy for you to say.”

“Not talking about it won't make it go away. That night happened, Corinthians. Get over it. However, I think it will make you feel better if we got it out in the open and discussed it.”

Corinthians doubted that. Her embarrassment and humiliation that night were too great. There was no way she could discuss how she felt, especially with Trevor of all people. He had seen her in a way no other man ever had. “What's there to say?”

“Whatever you want.” A part of Trevor hoped she would say her feelings for Dex were a thing of the past and that she had accepted his marriage. He hoped she wasn't like the woman who had become obsessed with his father and had destroyed his parents' marriage. The thought that she could very well be that sort of woman—scheming, conniving and manipulating—angered him.

“Get over Dex, Corinthians. He's a married man who loves his wife very much. You don't stand a chance.”

Corinthians's angered flared. Why was he telling her that? She knew Dex loved Caitlin. Anyone with eyes could see that. At the time that she had decided to make her move on Dex, she had not seen him in more than four years and had not known his marital state. When she had first gotten hired at Remington Oil right out of college at Grambling, Dex had been her trainer. They had worked together for a couple of years before he was sent to work in Australia. Although she had wanted him to notice her, he had only treated her fondly, like a sister. After the fiasco that night two years ago with Trevor in the hotel room, she had reevaluated her feelings for Dex. She had come to the conclusion that whatever feelings she'd thought she'd had for Dex hadn't been love, but an oversized amount of infatuation she'd harbored for him over the years. Even Dex's wife, Caitlin, knew she once thought herself in love with Dex. After meeting Caitlin and seeing what a beautiful person she was, both inside and out, Corinthians had felt that in order for her and Caitlin to have a true friendship, she needed to let her know what her feelings had been for Dex at one time. She had also made it clear to Caitlin that Dex was unaware she had harbored such affections. He considered her a good friend and nothing more. Caitlin had appreciated her honesty and forthrightness, and she knew Caitlin considered her a friend.

What bothered her now more than anything was not any feelings of love she still harbored for Dex, since she knew for certain there weren't any, but the unexplained feelings she'd begun to feel for Trevor Grant. He was the last person she wanted to feel anything for. The man had her pegged as some two-bit home-wrecker, for Pete's sake! That meant he didn't think a whole lot of her character. That angered her more.

“You don't know what I stand a chance of doing,” she said finally. “I've discovered when it comes to love, most men are fickle. Otherwise they wouldn't have mistresses, now would they?” she added, knowing her words would fuel his anger.

It did. Trevor's gaze showed his seething rage. When the waitress came to collect Corinthians's money, she turned her attention away from Trevor. After taking a calming breath, she decided to thank the waitress for her meal in the woman's native tongue.

The waitress's face suddenly turned a hot crimson and tears appeared in her eyes. She whirled and ran from the room.

“Why did you say something like that to her?” Trevor snapped.

Corinthians flinched at the harsh tone of Trevor's voice. She noticed the sudden quietness in the hotel's restaurant and that other patrons were openly staring at her. “What's wrong? I don't understand,” she said in alarm. “I merely told her I had enjoyed my meal.”

“No, you did not! You didn't even come close.”

Corinthians swallowed slowly, afraid to ask but knowing she had to. “Then what did I say to her?”

Trevor's glare deepened. “You told her she had the face of a dead horse.”

Shocked denial appeared on Corinthians's face. “I did not!”

“You did, too! I strongly suggest you brush up on your Portuguese before spurting off your mouth.” He then motioned for the attention of the restaurant manager, which wasn't hard to do since all eyes were on them anyway. When the man arrived at their table, Trevor spoke to him in rapid, fluent Portuguese.

Corinthians's mouth dropped in surprise. When the man rushed off in the same direction the waitress had gone earlier, Corinthians found her voice to ask, “Where did you learn to speak Portuguese?”

Trevor glared at her. “While in the Marines I learned to speak several different languages.”

Corinthians's face showed another shock. “You were in the Marines?”

“Yes. I was in the Marines for more than fifteen years.”

At that moment the manager returned with the distressed waitress in tow. Corinthians felt absolutely awful. One look at the woman and she could tell she'd been crying. “Oh, Trevor, please tell her that I didn't mean what I said and that my use of her language is rusty and—”

“It's not rusty, it's deplorable.”

Ignoring his comment, Corinthians continued. “Please tell her I truly apologize for what I said and that I didn't mean it. I was trying to tell her I enjoyed my food.”

In a soft, calming voice, Trevor began speaking in Portuguese. Corinthians noted the softening of the woman's features and the smile that stole onto her face. Whatever Trevor was saying was helping to smooth things over. When the woman looked at her and laughed before turning to leave, Corinthians raised a brow.

“What did you say to her?”

Trevor shrugged. “I told her everything you asked me to. I also shared with her a few thoughts of my own.”

“A few thoughts of your own like what?”

He leaned back in his seat and looked at her. “I told her that unfortunately you had a habit of placing yourself in embarrassing situations. Today wasn't the first time I've been a witness to such an event, and I doubt it would be the last.”

Corinthians's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe he had said such a thing about her; and to a stranger at that. But the look he gave her said that he had. Totally peeved, she stood. “This was the last time you'll ever be a witness to any embarrassing situation I might endure.”

“I doubt it.”

Trevor couldn't help but grin when a very angry Corinthians Avery turned and walked off. He shrugged and resumed eating his food. So much for round one.

Chapter 3

Corinthians quickly left the restaurant and walked across the hotel's lobby, fuming. Her face was still stinging from the heat of embarrassment. Added to that was the humiliation of Trevor's words. She was so mad, her hands were shaking. As far as she was concerned, Trevor Grant was an arrogant and inconsiderate man. There was not a shred of decency in him. No respectable person would take joy in pointing out another person's misfortune.

Slowing her pace, Corinthians forced herself to slow her breathing and put a cap on her anger. He wasn't worth it. Exhausted and frustrated, she stopped in front of the elevator doors, then remembered she hadn't picked up her messages that day. Turning, she walked over to the hotel's front desk.

A few minutes later she was flipping through the numerous slips of paper that had been given to her. Trevor Grant and her brother, Joshua, were running neck and neck in the number of messages they had left. She crushed all the ones from Trevor, feeling a sense of satisfaction in doing so. She then turned her attention to those from Senator Joshua Avery. She wondered which was worse, dealing with Trevor or coming to blows with Josh. Although she loved her brother dearly, he could be a monumental pain at times. He thought since he was five years older, he had every right to boss her around.

She sighed. He also thought he could manipulate her into doing anything he wanted. As far as she was concerned, becoming senator had gone to his head. Although some people easily fell victim to his charm, she wasn't one of them. She had to constantly remind him that at the age of thirty, she was a grown woman who didn't need a big brother to boss her around.

Deciding not to wait until she returned to her room to make the call, she picked up a courtesy phone off a nearby desk and dialed the number Joshua had left on the messages. It was to his office in Washington.

A few minutes later, his loud, authoritative voice came on the line. “Senator Joshua Avery.”

“Hi, Josh. I got your messages. What's up?”

“Your timing is perfect, Corinthians. Rasheed is here. Why did you leave the country without letting him know when you'd be returning? He thought you would be available to accompany him to the presidential dinner this weekend.”

Corinthians raised her eyes to the ceiling. Joshua was forever the politician looking for ways to make connections. He had talked her into attending a dinner party given in Senator Nedwyn Lansing's honor a couple of weeks ago with Rasheed Valdemon, the thirty-three-year-old son of a sheikh from the Middle East. Rasheed's striking good looks, a result of his Arab father and Egyptian mother, were enough to make most women swoon. But not her. It had only taken one evening spent in his company for her to realize the two of them did not see eye-to-eye on a number of things. She would never be able to tolerate his beliefs on certain subjects, especially the rights of women. He was very proud of the fact that in his country, women were seen and not heard. And according to him, there was nothing wrong with a man having more than one wife if that's what he desired. He had phoned her a few times since then and had even flown from Washington, D.C., to Texas to see her, surprising the heck out of her when he'd appeared on her doorstep last weekend.

“I don't know how he could have thought that. I remember telling him I would not be going to that dinner with him.”

“I guess he's not used to being turned down.”

Corinthians frowned. She was getting fed up with arrogant men. “Then he needs to understand he's in America. In this country women have rights. I exercised mine when I turned him down. Now, if you'll excuse me, Josh, I need to go. Bye.” She hung up the phone before her brother could say anything else. No doubt he would suggest that she talk to Rasheed, and she wasn't in the mood.

After hanging up the phone, Corinthians turned to find Trevor Grant standing across the lobby, leaning against the wall looking at her. He just stood there staring at her with an odd expression on his face. Even from the distance separating them, she could see something flicker deep in the depths of his eyes. It was something dark, compelling and seductive. He was looking at her as if he could see straight through the material of her gauzy white sundress; every revealing detail.

Angry at the way her thoughts were going, she gave him a cutting look before turning and walking over to the elevators. When the doors opened, she quickly stepped inside. When she turned back around, she saw his eyes were still on her. She met his stare with her glare. She was glad when the doors closed, shutting him off from her line of vision.

Trevor straightened his stance. He wondered whom Corinthians had been talking to on the telephone. Whoever it was had certainly teed her off. He had picked up on it even from across the room simply by reading her body language and facial expressions. A deep scowl covered his face. Him trying to get a rise out of her was one thing, someone else setting her off was another. He couldn't help wondering if the person she'd been on the phone with was a man. He suddenly loathed himself for even caring. The woman had already proven to him that she had no scruples. She'd all but hinted at dinner that she had not gotten over Dex. He wondered if she was an obsessive type of woman. He knew firsthand the destruction an obsessive woman could do. Hadn't Paris Sanders been the epitome of an obsessive woman when she had been responsible for his parents' breakup?

At the age of sixteen, he had taken his parents' separation hard, not understanding the reason for it. At home, his mother was always despondent, and whenever he and his sister, Regina, went to visit their father, his mood was just as down-hearted. However, neither of his parents would reveal to their son and daughter the reason they had decided to live apart. And since neither of his parents had filed for a divorce, that had made the situation even more confusing to him. It was only years later, after he had finished school and joined the Marines, that he had found out the truth. Another woman had been involved.

At least that was what his mother had believed, although his father had staunchly denied having an affair with Paris Sanders. But the photo that had been delivered to his mother from Paris Sanders, a shot taken of his father holding a half-naked Ms. Sanders in his arms during a business trip, had sealed Maurice Grant's fate. Stella Grant had believed the worst.

Trevor placed his hands in the pockets of his pants as he continued to stare at the closed elevator doors. If Corinthians Avery thought she was going to make her move on a married man like Paris Sanders had done, she had another thought coming.

Washington, D.C.

“You Americans give your women too much freedom.”

Joshua Avery leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples upon hearing the statement from the man sitting across from his desk. “Look, Valdemon, I'm not my sister's keeper. According to Corinthians, she never agreed to be your dinner date this weekend. I mentioned to you two weeks ago that she was going to Brazil. Why didn't you find someone else to take?”

The tall, handsome man with dark, piercing eyes, skin the color of almond, and dark, straight black hair that reached his shoulders, gave Joshua a measured stare. “Because I assumed she would be back by this weekend.”

Joshua almost told him he apparently assumed too much, then thought better of it. The last thing he needed was enemies from the Middle East. In his quest to become the first Black governor of Texas, the one thing he needed other than the support of fellow Texans were allies in the Middle East. With Texas being the oil basin in the United States and the Middle East being where the major oil-producing nations were located, there was a lot at stake. In order to get American oil companies that were based in Texas to support him, he needed to make sure their counterparts abroad were kept happy and content. The last thing anyone wanted was a repeat of the monopolized oil prices that had plagued the nation in the seventies. Although Valdemon's native country was not an oil-producing one, it was still located in the Middle East. And his father, the sheikh of Mowaiti, was well thought of in Washington, D.C., and Valdemon was his heir.

He smiled. “I don't think Corinthians will be back for another week, so I suggest you find someone else to take. I also suggest that if you're really interested in my sister, you take another approach. She doesn't like being told what to do. I don't care how you might handle women in your country, we do things differently here.”

Rasheed looked aghast. “Are you suggesting that I let a woman rule me?”

Joshua raised his eyes to the ceiling. “No, I'm suggesting that you learn how to compromise.”

Rasheed's gaze was hard as stone when he spoke. “I know how to compromise. However, I practice the art of compromising with world leaders, and not with defiant women.” He stood and walked out of Joshua's office.

Prince Rasheed Valdemon left the Capitol building and stepped into a waiting limo. Once inside, he opened his briefcase and took out a manila folder. Flipping it open, he leaned back in his seat. Inside the folder was the profile on Corinthians Elizabeth Avery that he'd received six months ago. On top was a photograph of her. She was a strikingly beautiful woman. But unlike her brother assumed, her beauty wasn't what interested him. Her intelligence did. Specifically, her vast knowledge of the production and extraction of crude oil. Some claimed she had a sixth sense when it came to pinpointing the locations of unknown oil reserves.

A year and a half ago, she'd made history with her in-depth research and her uncanny ability to locate an unknown oil basin in the United States. It was the first to be found in more than fifty years. That had been quite an accomplishment and had gained her both national and international attention, especially in those countries whose main source of income was oil. Offers of employment had poured in from around the world, and she had turned them down, saying she was totally satisfied with her job as head geologist with an American-owned oil company, Remington Oil.

Rasheed shifted in his seat as he closed the folder. A deep, troubled look covered his face. His country had not been one of those who had offered her employment, but in truth it was his country that needed her the most.

The Middle East contained roughly seventy percent of all the world's oil reserves. Many of those basins rested within a few large fields, so most of the other countries in the region had relatively small quantities of oil or none at all. His homeland of Mowaiti was one of those countries that had none at all. The majority of his people were engaged in farming, and most lived harsh and impoverished lives. More than anything, he was determined to change that.

His father, Mowaiti's present leader, was ignoring the people's pleas of a better life. He regretted to say his father didn't have a vision. But Rasheed did. Unlike others, he believed there were oil reserves located somewhere in his country. What they needed was someone with the ability to find them.

Someone like Corinthians Avery.

Once the reserves were located, Mowaiti would emerge as a highly productive nation, and a powerful influence in OPEC. The discovery of oil over fifty something years ago had transformed Libya from a poor agricultural country, like Mowaiti was today, into one of the world's leading oil producers.

Rasheed placed the folder back in his briefcase. The decision had been made and a secret cartel had been formed. One way or another, Corinthians Avery would do for Mowaiti what she'd done for her own country. After spending time with her, he knew she would never leave the United States to live permanently in Mowaiti. He also knew the American government would never sanction her leaving the country for an extended stay in Mowaiti to help his country locate oil. To do so would be too political, and other impoverished Middle East countries would demand that the U.S. government provide the same services to them. And that would never happen for fear of the Middle East controlling all of the world's oil supply. Therefore, he'd been forced to take other measures.

Placing the briefcase on the floor by his feet, he finally turned his attention to the man who'd already been seated in the vehicle. “There better be a good reason why the Brazilian government did not follow my directive and apprehend Ms. Avery at the airport.”

Chapter 4

Corinthians felt her breath catch as she glanced around Praca da Republica, the city of São Paulo's most lovely park. The forty-five-minute air shuttle from Rio de Janeiro had been well worth it. She checked the travel brochure she held in her hand for what would be her next stop, and decided she needed to get something to eat first. She had skipped breakfast to catch an early flight out of Rio.

She knew from the information she had read that São Paulo was the largest city in South America, and was considered the financial, commercial and industrial center of Brazil. It didn't have the suave beauty of Rio de Janeiro, but its wide variety of international restaurants, fabulous shopping districts and parks and museums made it a popular place for tourists.

Corinthians smiled when she saw, of all things, a McDonald's, and was in total awe of how elegant it looked. She then remembered reading in the brochure that the hamburger chain had restored one of the last remaining manors that had once been a millionaire's mansion.

Entering the McDonald's, she sat down at a table overlooking the São Paulo Museum of Art. She smiled at the waitress who came to take her order, feeling somewhat strange to get such personal service. In every U.S. city that she knew of, such service was not provided. Most McDonald's had drive-thrus and walk-up counters for service.

After her disastrous experience yesterday in trying to speak Portuguese, Corinthians thought it best to stick with English. After the woman had left with her order, she decided to pay a visit to the ladies' room before her food arrived. Standing, she made her way toward the area where the facilities were located.

Leaving the restroom a few minutes later, Corinthians noticed two men hanging around in the hallway. She made a move to walk past them and came to a stop when they blocked her path. She frowned and looked closely at them. She swallowed. Their expressions were anything but friendly.

“Excuse me,” she said, and made another attempt to go around them and felt a sense of panic when they didn't move an inch.

Trevor entered the McDonald's and glanced around, not seeing Corinthians anywhere. He had been following her for the past hour or so, and she hadn't been aware of him doing so. Not that he had any complaints, since he had thoroughly enjoyed watching the sway of her hips as she'd moved through the streets of São Paulo. Her shapely thighs and small waist did a lot for the skirt and blouse she was wearing.

Deciding Corinthians must have gone to the ladies' room, he looked over in that direction. He stopped suddenly when he saw her surrounded by two men, and had a gut feeling they were up to no good. He cursed under his breath. Couldn't the woman go anywhere without getting herself into trouble?