“Thank you,” she replied softly, her face still resolutely turned away to stare out the side window.
But his words had the required effect. He could feel her begin to relax, sense the rigidly bound muscles in her body begin to ease. As they pulled up outside the cottage and he walked her to the door, he permitted himself the barest brush of his lips upon her cheek.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, about eight-thirty?”
“Sure, whatever time you need me.”
“Eight-thirty will be early enough.” He stepped off the stairs and onto the narrow path, giving her the advantage of being taller than him for a change. “Are you sure you’ll be able to navigate your way back tomorrow morning? The roads will be chaotic.”
She nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but if I get lost I’ll call you.”
“Make sure you do. I don’t want to lose you, querida.”
He couldn’t bring himself to call her Sara, not now he knew the truth about who she was.
“You won’t,” she replied, her earlier strain audible in her voice once more. “Good night.”
He lifted one finger to stroke her cheek before answering, “Sweet dreams.”
He waited on the path until he heard the ancient door lock tumble closed, then returned to his car. Once safely buckled in, he opened up the engine and roared back toward the city. As the car ate up each kilometer back to Puerto Seguro, he acknowledged that the thrill of racing down the road was a poor substitute for the physical satisfaction his body still craved, and lowered his speed accordingly. But no matter how he controlled the power under the hood of the car, controlling his feelings for the woman he’d left behind was another matter. Lust, he told himself. It’s only lust. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow it to be anything more.
Rina walked out of the elevator and toward the doors to Rey’s offices fighting the urge to turn tail and run all the way home. Last night had been one stupid decision after another and the lack of sleep she’d endured as she’d painstakingly pulled apart each minute of their time together had left her headachy and irritable today. Certainly not the best frame of mind to be beginning a new employment position, however temporary it would prove to be.
As she entered the main office, the receptionist looked up from her desk and fixed her with a beaming smile. “Buenos dias, Miss Woodville. How are you this morning?”
“I—I’m well, thank you. Should I go straight to Mr. del Castillo’s office?”
“Yes, go through. Can I get you a coffee?”
“Tea, actually. If it’s not too much bother. Just weak and black would be great.”
“I’ll bring it shortly.”
Rina smiled her thanks and carried on down the corridor that led to Rey’s office. She hesitated in his waiting area before lifting her hand to his office door and rapping softly before entering.
He was standing by the window. Of all the places he could have been as she entered the room it had to be there. That exact spot. Fire flamed through her body as he turned and smiled in welcome. A slow smile that lifted one corner of his lips before the other, as if they shared something intimate and private between them and only them. And they did, she told herself. Just not what it could have been—and certainly not what her body, even now, demanded.
“From the look of you, I’d say you had about as much sleep as I did,” he commented before crossing the room and kissing her cheek.
“I had a lot on my mind last night,” she responded.
He gave her a look that said, “I bet you did,” as clearly as if he enunciated the words aloud.
“Have you heard how your PA is this morning?” Rina asked, mindful of why she was here in the first place.
“Resting as comfortably as possible, and struggling with the loss of her baby. It will be some time before she is well enough to return to work.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Losing a child must be devastating.”
“Yes, I told her husband she is not to rush her recovery on our account. He is equally upset, of course.”
Rey shrugged out of the jacket of the silver gray suit he wore and flung it across the back of the couch nearest him. The pale color of the suit agreed with his coloring, Rina decided, throwing the golden color of his skin into relief against the crisp white shirt he wore teamed with an even paler silver self-patterned tie. She dragged her gaze from him, from the faint hint of the expanse of his chest beneath the fine cotton of his shirt, and sank down into the other couch. Her legs felt weak and unsteady. She had to get this attraction under control.