She hardly ever cried. In books and films tears could cure blindness and mend wounds. In real life, though, they just gave you a headache and made your skin all blotchy.
But for the last few weeks she’d kept feeling this sadness. Not like the grief of losing Jimmy—a grief that had made her feel as if she was at the bottom of the ocean, gazing up through black waters. This feeling was nothing like that. It was just frustration that she couldn’t seem to do her job.
It didn’t help that at Blackstrap the creative process had felt so organic and effortless.
Partly that had been down to the fact that the business had only just been starting up, so there had been no actual deadline and therefore no pressure. And, of course, Bill was so incredibly laid-back.
Now, though, she was working for a global brand that had become almost a byword for rum, and time was running out.
Thinking of Jimmy, and their short, sweet marriage, she felt a lump rise in her throat. She knew all about time running out.
But she was not going to go there and, pushing her memories aside, she closed her laptop and slid it into her bag. She took the stairs down to the foyer and stepped out into the sunlight. After the chilled air of the labs the heat felt like an oven, and she was grateful to get into the air-conditioned cool of the car that took her to and from work.
Leaning back, she closed her eyes. Probably part of the reason she felt so defeated was that she was tired, the kind of tired that felt like an actual weight, physically crushing her.
She sighed. It was her own fault. She’d been sleeping badly and waking early and, although she’d grown used to her own company, the days had started to feel very long. So, without planning it, she’d fallen into a routine of going into the labs and staying late.
Clearly she was in a rut. She needed to forget about rum, put on some sunscreen and get some exercise and fresh air. She couldn’t remember the feeling of sunshine on her face—and when had she last gone for a walk?
Her pulse stilled. Oh, she knew exactly when she’d last gone for a walk. It was not something she was likely to forget—or rather he was someone she was not likely to forget.
Picturing César Zayas’s green-eyed gaze and his hard, muscular body, she felt her skin tighten, and she pressed her thighs together, her muscles tensing against a sudden, dizzying flood of heat.
She had promised herself that she wasn’t going to think about him today. It was the same promise she’d made and failed to keep every day since he’d walked out of her villa.
Her cheeks felt hot. It had been stupid to feel that way when he’d been a complete stranger, but it was even more stupid, not to say baffling and pointless, to feel that way now she knew he was her boss.
Only she just couldn’t stop herself thinking about his beautiful, masculine face, about his hands and his mouth, and the hard, insistent pressure of his body against hers.
But it was going to stop.
Not because she regretted what had happened. She didn’t. It had been amazing. But whatever her feelings had been, they had nothing to do with any kind of reality. Things had just got a little out of hand...
Trembling, she opened her eyes and gazed out of the window at the broad fields of sugarcane.
It was obviously not ideal, him being her boss and everything, but she knew why it had happened. After Jimmy had died she’d stopped eating. Not deliberately—she’d just seemed to forget about food. All she’d wanted to do was sleep. Eventually, over time, her appetite had come back, and even though she was still a little on the slim side her weight was perfectly normal now.
What wasn’t normal, though—or healthy—was being celibate for so long.
And it wasn’t just sex. Aside from sharing hugs with her family, she now lived a life bereft of physical contact. She didn’t even have a pet—a cat or a dog she could cuddle.
She was twenty-seven years old and it had been five years since she’d kissed or been kissed. So she’d wanted to remember what it felt like to have a man pull her close, to feel his warm hands and lips on her skin. Maybe if she’d given in to that need earlier then she wouldn’t be feeling like this now, but after years of virtually ignoring an entire gender, was it any surprise that she’d been knocked sideways by that moment of wild, feverish passion that had flared between the two of them?
Back at the villa, she had a long, cool shower, using her favourite body wash, and then sat down on her bed with a book and a glass of mango juice. Normally she hated fruit juice, but for some reason she’d suddenly started craving it.
Twenty minutes later, she hadn’t read a word, and she still hadn’t shifted the heaviness in her limbs.
She knew it was psychosomatic...that if she managed to find that elusive inspiration everything would change in a heartbeat. Her mood would lighten and she would finally be able to blank her mind to the memory of her mysterious too-attractive boss, and that fierce, involuntary pull of attraction she had felt for him.
If only she could find those elusive notes that would make the rum sing. But nothing she’d tried was working.
She felt another prickle of panic and then, as she glanced across the room, she noticed the dress hanging from the handle of her wardrobe.
It had been an impulse buy.
In the weeks leading up to her flight to Cuba she’d gone on a shopping trip to London, mainly to shut Lizzie up. Knowing that her sister would be appalled if she came home with nothing but insect repellent and a hat, she’d gone into one of those boutiques where even a basic T-shirt cost as much as her train fare home. Feeling horribly provincial and out of place, she been rummaging through a rail of linen cardigans, trying to look as though she was a regular customer, and there it had been.
Shocking pink, with a riotous pattern of exotic-looking flowers, it had tiny cap sleeves and a flippy little skirt that showed off her legs. It was bright, sexy and eye-wateringly expensive—in short, absolutely not the kind of dress she would ever normally buy. But in her head it had seemed to fit perfectly with her fantasy of a crowded Havana nightclub filled with beautiful dancing couples.