A Taste of the Forbidden. Carole Mortimer

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      ‘That would be totally paranoid!’ she came back tartly. ‘Besides being a total invasion of privacy,’ she added.

      ‘You believe me to be paranoid, Miss Blake?’

      There was no missing the steely edge to his tone. ‘I’m not used to having my every move watched—’

      ‘There are no security cameras in here.’

      ‘This is also the one room I’m barred from entering!’

      ‘When I am not in it, yes,’ Cesar conceded, still annoyed at the ‘paranoid’ comment. ‘When the study is empty the motion sensor alarm would go off if you were to enter.’

      ‘Oh, great!’ She eyed him derisively. ‘What exactly do you have in here that’s so valuable I’m not even allowed to come in and dust?’

      Cesar breathed deeply through his nose. ‘This is my sanctuary. Somewhere that I come for complete privacy.’

      ‘To do what, exactly? Do you dance around the room naked on a full moon or something?’

      Cesar’s breath caught in his throat, not even the gleam of laughter he could see in those wide blue-green eyes enough to temper his rising incredulity with this woman. ‘Do you ever stop to think before you speak?’ he prompted softly.

      ‘Usually.’ She grimaced. ‘For some reason, my filter button seems to be on “off” whenever I talk to you.’

      He arched a brow. ‘I make you nervous, perhaps?’

      ‘That’s an understatement!’

      ‘Would you care to explain what it is about me that makes you nervous?’

      Everything would be the answer to that question, Grace realised with dismay. Cesar Navarro was too big, too immediate, too arrogantly sure of himself, too self-contained, the latter to such a degree she was constantly filled with this overwhelming—and uncharacteristic—impulse to try to shock him out of that self-containment. And lastly, he really was too ‘gorgeously handsome’ for his own good.

      She drew in a deep breath. ‘I don’t think so, no.’

      Cesar’s mouth quirked at the firm finality of her tone. ‘Can it be that you are learning some discretion at last?’

      She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘We can always hope so.’

      He nodded. ‘And to answer your previous question— perhaps I just like the feeling of knowing that I could dance around the room naked if I wished to do so?’

      ‘Really?’ Grace looked taken aback.

      Cesar gave a disgusted snort. ‘This conversation really has become too ridiculous!’ He gave an impatient shake of his head as he realised he was now trying to shock her, a dangerous game that could only become even more so.

      ‘I asked to see you this morning because your comments last night, in regard to the isolation of the cottage where you are currently staying, led me to believe, if you are to remain in my employment, that perhaps you might feel more comfortable occupying one of the bedrooms in the east wing of the house rather than remaining in the cottage?’

      Her eyes widened. ‘You’re asking me to move into the main house with you and Raphael?’

      Cesar’s mouth tightened at the memory of the relationship Grace Blake had believed he had with the other man. ‘I am suggesting that you might feel less isolated if you were to occupy one of the bedrooms in the east wing of the main house,’ he repeated firmly.

      She frowned. ‘That’s a bit of a turnaround from Kevin’s initial comment to me that “no one ever stays in the main house but Mr Navarro and Raphael”, isn’t it?’

      ‘And was it this remark which helped to convince you that Raphael and I must be … a couple?’

      ‘That, along with Raphael’s less than friendly attitude towards me yesterday evening,’ she recalled with a frown.

      Cesar’s mouth twisted into a humourless smile. ‘It did not occur to you that perhaps Raphael’s presence here in the main house, and his “less than friendly attitude”, might be for another reason other than the one you have so obviously jumped to?’

      ‘What other reason?’

      ‘Think, Miss Blake,’ he drawled.

      She shrugged. ‘Well … he’s with you constantly. Deals with your personal things. Serves your food. Obviously views strangers with suspicion until proven otherwise.’

      ‘And what does all of that suggest to you, Miss Blake?’

      ‘That he’s as paranoid as you are?’

      Cesar’s mouth tightened. ‘I may have found some of your outspokenness amusing to date, Miss Blake, but I nevertheless suggest you have a care.’

      What did it suggest to her? Grace puzzled ruefully. There was the obvious conclusion she had come to, of course—and which Cesar Navarro had very firmly squashed! So what other—? ‘He’s your personal bodyguard!’ she realised slowly.

      ‘Well done, Miss Blake.’ He gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘Not only is Raphael my personal bodyguard, but he is head of all my security. Rodney, and others like him at my other properties around the world, report directly to Raphael.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘Indeed,’ Cesar said. ‘He is a black belt in several of the martial arts, and is also an expert marksman from the years he spent in the army.’

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