Navarro’s expression was completely inscrutable as he turned to take the kitchen phone from its charger before pressing several buttons. ‘I am merely calling Rodney so that he can escort—Rodney? Yes,’ he bit out tersely into the receiver while the darkness of his gaze remained firmly fixed on Grace. ‘No, there is no problem, but I would like you to escort Miss Blake back to her cottage. Yes, I am aware that should have been the case. Unfortunately Miss Blake seems incapable of following even the simplest of instructions.’
She gasped. ‘That’s hardly fair—’
‘The kitchen.’ Cesar completely ignored Grace’s protest as he continued to talk to his English Head of Security. ‘One minute? I am sure that Miss Blake and I will be able to amuse ourselves for that length of time,’ he drawled before abruptly ending the call and putting the phone back on its stand before folding his arms over his muscled chest to once again look down the length of his nose at her.
Grace eyed him in frustration. ‘How nice to know that Rodney now thinks I’m some sort of a security risk!’
Cesar raised one dark brow. ‘And is Rodney’s opinion of such importance to you?’
‘It is when he’s licensed to carry a gun!’
His mouth thinned. ‘You are uncomfortable with that knowledge?’
She grimaced. ‘I think intimidated might be a better way of describing it.’
Cesar had lived with this high level of security for more than half his lifetime, and rarely noticed it any more; he had certainly never considered how other people might react to being constantly under surveillance. Not that it mattered to him how Grace Blake felt about it; the security that surrounded him and his family was for a specific reason, and he had no intention of changing it to suit his English cook/housekeeper. His on-a-one-month’s-trial English cook/housekeeper …
‘Ah, Rodney.’ He turned to look at the other man as he let himself quietly in by the back door. ‘Miss Blake is ready to leave.’
‘This really isn’t necessary,’ Grace Blake protested with obvious discomfort.
‘I have already explained the reasons I consider it important—’
‘Oh, well, that makes it all right, then!’
Cesar’s eyes narrowed at her obvious sarcasm. ‘Do not forget to take the lilies with you,’ he reminded as she turned to follow the silent Rodney. ‘Take the vase, too,’ he added wearily as she attempted to remove the flowers and immediately dripped water all over the table top.
‘I—thank you.’ She quickly wiped the table before gathering the cut-glass vase up in her arms, and was instantly dwarfed by both its weight and the height of the flowers.
‘Rodney?’ Cesar gave the other man an exasperated glance.
‘Yes, sir.’ His English Head of Security was obviously having the same problem as Cesar had earlier as he took the vase of flowers out of Grace Blake’s arms, in as much as it took great effort on his part not to laugh at her disgruntled expression. Evidence, perhaps, that Rodney was, as Grace Blake had thought earlier, thawing towards her?
Understandably so, perhaps, when not only was Miss Blake naturally beautiful, but her forthright way of talking was entertaining, to say the least.
‘Goodnight, Miss Blake,’ Cesar bit out dismissively as Rodney stood back politely in order to allow her to precede him out of the kitchen.
She turned slightly, her gaze not quite meeting his as she nodded. ‘Mr Navarro.’
Cesar waited until she and Rodney had both departed the kitchen, the door locked securely behind them, before his mouth curved into a rueful smile at the strangeness of their encounter.
Grace Blake was not at all what he had been expecting of his newest employee. She was too young. Too beautiful. 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
