A Taste of the Forbidden. Кэрол Мортимер
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.
Kevin had looked at her questioningly once he had passed on his employer’s request, but if his boss hadn’t confided in the other man regarding the details of their conversation in the kitchen the night before, then Grace wasn’t about to do so, either.
Besides which, Kevin would find out soon enough what the meeting was about—when Cesar Navarro later informed him of her dismissal!
Grace had telephoned Beth last night as soon Rodney had left her alone in the privacy of her cottage, her sister unable to stop herself from chuckling as Grace related every embarrassing detail of that late-night meeting in the kitchen with Cesar Navarro.
Grace had chuckled wryly, too, once she got over feeling so embarrassed about the whole thing, only to wake up at six o’clock this morning in the full certainty that she was going to be dismissed at the first opportunity.
Obviously he had waited until after she had prepared his breakfast before finding that opportunity …
Grace checked that her hair was secured in its usual tidy ponytail, and smoothed down her black skirt, before quietly opening the door to the study and stepping gingerly inside. Only to come to an abrupt halt just inside the door of the wood-panelled study as she found herself looking across a huge mahogany desk at the same formal Cesar from that photograph she had seen of him online; he was wearing another impeccably tailored suit, in charcoal grey this time, with a snowy white shirt, and a meticulously knotted pale blue silk tie. Only that sexily tousled dark hair was reminiscent of the man she had met in the kitchen the previous night.
Probably not the best of things for her to have thought of when she had obviously been brought here so that he could tell her personally all the reasons why he had decided she was totally unsuitable to work for him!
‘Did you personally make the croissants I had with my breakfast this morning?’
Grace blinked at the unexpected question. ‘I—Sorry …?’
Cesar eyed her impatiently. ‘I asked if you had made the croissants I ate for my breakfast earlier.’
‘Er—yes.’ Was this some sort of game? Grace wondered, feeling dazed. The one where you lulled your opponent into a false sense of security, and just when they were starting to relax you kicked them in the teeth? Because if so—
‘They were delicious.’ He nodded briskly. ‘As good as anything I have tasted in some of the best hotels in Paris.’
So they should be, when Grace had worked in one of those hotels for over a year, under one of the best chefs in France, once she had completed her cordon bleu course.
‘I’m pleased you enjoyed them.’ She gave a shrug. ‘Consider them a parting gift from me to you.’
Those piercing black eyes narrowed. ‘You are leaving?’
‘Of course I—’ Grace eyed him warily. ‘Isn’t that why you had me brought here, so that you could have the pleasure of dismissing me personally?’
Cesar had wondered, after returning to his bedroom the previous night, if perhaps he had just met Grace Blake at a time when she was obviously feeling vulnerable and homesick, and resulting in that vulnerability making her more verbose than she might otherwise have been. Two minutes in her company this morning and he knew that was not the case; she really was this outspoken all of the time!
He arched dark brows. ‘And why do you believe it would give me personal pleasure to dismiss you?’ He arched dark brows as he studied her beneath hooded lids.
Those freckles across her nose and cheeks were more visible in the clear light of day, her eyes the beautiful clear colour of the Mediterranean Sea, neither blue nor green, but somewhere in between. Her hair was a rich shiny sable, but was unfortunately once again confined in a ponytail at her nape. Even so it was possible for Cesar to tell that it would probably reach almost to her waist once released.
She shifted uncomfortably beneath the steady implacability of his gaze. ‘I was very outspoken last night. And rude. And maybe a tad sarcastic. And—’ She broke off as Cesar slowly stood up before moving around his desk, deftly avoiding knocking the single framed photograph; sitting to one side of it, he leant against the front of the desk.
A photograph of Raphael, perhaps?
‘And?’ he prompted softly.
Her eyes were very wide and she swallowed before answering. ‘And I expressed a dislike of the excessive security you have in place here.’
‘Yes,’ he drawled dryly.
She blinked. ‘Yes, I was outspoken? Yes, I was rude? Yes, I was a tad sarcastic? Or yes, I expressed being uncomfortable with the excessive security you surround yourself with?’
‘Yes, you did all four of those things,’ Cesar confirmed tersely.
‘There you go, then.’ She smiled ruefully.
‘There I go what?’ he prompted irritably. Outspokenness was one thing, incomprehension was something else entirely.
Grace eyed him impatiently, more than a little overwhelmed by this man’s close proximity. As she was also aware of how his sheer presence seemed to have once again sucked all the air out of the room. ‘There are all the reasons you’re going to dismiss me!’
‘The reasons I am going to enjoy personally dismissing you was, I believe, the phrase you used?’
‘Does it matter?’ Grace gave a heavy sigh at his tenacity. ‘The bottom line is that you’re sacking me. The level of enjoyment you’re going to feel from doing so irrelevant—’
‘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