He nodded, and she felt her stomach grow warm at the approval in his green gaze. Feeling self-conscious, she took another sip, using the glass as a shield against her face.
‘It tweaks it, but it’s the rum that’s making the magic. As it should do, Señor Zayas, given it’s one of yours. The four-year-old, I believe?’
He smiled then—a smile that made a pulse beat fast in her throat.
‘Bravo, Ms Quested.’ Lifting his glass, he tilted it in her direction. ‘For someone so young and untrained you have an impressive focus.’
He was only admiring her palate, that mystical ability to detect balance, length and complexity, but, looking up into his eyes, she felt her heart jab against her ribs like a boat bumping its moorings.
It was stupid to let herself be so affected. If she’d been his accountant, and he’d complimented her for reducing his tax bill, would she be feeling like this? Only here, in this beautiful room, with his dark eyes resting on her face, it was hard not to respond, not to bask just for a moment in the spotlight of male attention.
It had been so long. Five years, in fact. And she missed it—missed him: Jimmy.
He had always made her feel so special, and now she was alone. Not completely—obviously she had Lizzie and Bill and her parents. But it was a long time since she’d spent any time on her own with a man, and this man made her feel as though she was riding a rollercoaster.
But compliments couldn’t change the facts, and he was still her boss. And even if he wasn’t she didn’t need, or want, a repeat performance.
Her cheeks felt hot.
Okay, that was a lie. She did want him. But a lone sexual encounter with a stranger to remind herself that she was still a woman was one thing... Acting on that desire again would be reckless and complicated and stupid.
His position as CEO of Dos Rios wasn’t even the main reason why what had happened between them could only ever be a one-off. That was down to her. She didn’t want intimacy or commitment, and nor did she have it in her to share such things with someone else. Not since Jimmy. And nothing was going to change that, whatever people said about time being a great healer.
So, keeping on with all these formalities was not only unnecessary but counterproductive, for surely it implied that without them she was at risk of losing control, when in reality, without the high emotion of an accident driving them together, there was no risk at all of what had happened at her villa recurring.
It had been a one-off, she knew her own mind, and she wasn’t looking to be seduced.
She cleared her throat. ‘Thank you—but, please, could you call me Kitty? Being called “Ms Quested” makes me feel like I’m in a job interview.’
Her heart skittered in her chest as his gaze locked on hers. Her skin was suddenly covered with goosebumps and she felt her nipples harden.
‘If that’s what you’d prefer.’
She nodded, and his mouth curved upwards slowly.
‘In that case, would you dance with me, Kitty?’
As they walked out onto the dance floor she felt her stomach drop as his fingers grazed against hers. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Everything about him was perfect, from the long dark lashes that grazed his cheeks to those arresting green eyes.
Of course he was a beautiful dancer. Light, fluid...he didn’t just follow the music, he was part of it. Like all great partners, he seemed instinctively aware of other dancers, finding a path seamlessly between the couples circling the floor, and yet she felt as though he was entirely focused on her.
And all she could think about was him. The way his eyes rested on her face, the light press of his hand gently curving around her waist. It was such a long time since she’d felt so free, so light, so young.
The band changed tempo, and as the music slowed the shifting crowd of dancers seemed to shrink around them. She felt his hand tighten against her back, the heat of his grip seeping through the fabric of her dress. Their bodies were closer now: too close. She was conscious of the solidity of his shoulder beneath her hand and he smelled so good—a kind of clean, masculine scent that made her long to lean into him.
Only she couldn’t let herself do that, for if she gave in to that longing she knew where it would lead. And where it would end. But for some reason, right now, that realisation didn’t seem to be carrying any weight.
Everything was snarled up inside her—desire and fear, impatience and guilt, her need to keep her distance clashing with an urge to brush her lips against his.
‘I’m losing you.’
‘What?’
She glanced up at him, her eyes widening with shock that he could read her so well. White and pink and yellow strobe lights above the dance floor were criss-crossing between them, dappling his skin in gold shadows, highlighting the curve of his jaw and cheeks. He looked like the profile on a coin and she had to hold back from reaching up and touching his face.
‘You’re tensing up. Just let it go.’
He was staring directly into her eyes, and she felt her belly clench as the rum and his nearness and her own tingling hunger began to curl around her brain. Looking at him hurt—but not so much as wanting him.