The Montoros Dynasty. Katherine Garbera

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was in heaven and hell, shuddering with arousal and unable to do a thing about it.

      When Gabriel brushed past them, his petite sister in his arms, Alex remembered what he had meant to say earlier. “Maria...”

      “Hmm?”

      Her voice had the warm, honeyed sound of a woman pleasured by her lover. Alex cleared his throat. “You need to be careful around Gabriel Montoro.”

      Maria’s reaction was unmistakable. She went rigid in Alex’s arms and pulled away. “Excuse me?” Beautiful eyes glared at him.

      He tried to continue the dance, but Maria was having none of it. So Alex soldiered on. “He’s a mature, experienced man, and you’re not accustomed to running in these circles. I’d hate to see him take advantage of you.”

      Maria went pale but for two spots of hectic color on her cheekbones. “Your concern is duly noted,” she said, the words icy. “But you’ll have to trust my judgment, I’m afraid. Because I don’t plan to avoid him. My job is actually to get close to him, to learn his secrets, to do damage control. And I’m not a child, Alex. I’m insulted by your insinuation.”

      “I’m not insinuating anything,” he said. “But I saw the way he looked at you.”

      “The man would flirt with a block of wood. I get that. But I certainly don’t need you or anyone else to protect me from the big bad wolf.”

      “You’re angry.”

      “Damn straight, I’m angry.” Her eyes snapped with the force of her displeasure. “I was invited to be part of this delegation, and I accepted. I’m here to do a job and to do it to the best of my ability. This assignment means as much to me as it does to you. So I’ll thank you to keep your advice to yourself.”

      “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly.

      Her posture erect, she gave him a stony stare. “Am I off the clock now, Mr. Ramon? May I go to my room?”

      “Don’t push me, Maria,” he said, his teeth clenched. “It’s been a long day, and the ones to come won’t be much better.”

      She wrapped her arms around her waist in a defensive posture. “Maybe it would be best if we avoid each other when we don’t have to be working together.”

      “If that’s what you want.” How had they gone from dancing to dismay so quickly?

      For a brief moment he saw sadness in her gaze. His gut twisted with the sure knowledge that he had put it there.

      Her bearing and her expression were dignified. “I’ll see you at ten tomorrow,” she said.

      As he watched her walk away from him, his enjoyment in the evening went flat. He tracked her progress as she spoke to various members of the delegation and said her good-nights. The Montoros were next. Both of the Rafaels. Bella. And of course, Gabriel.

      As Alex watched, Gabriel leaned down and whispered something in Maria’s ear. Whatever it was, it made her laugh.

      Seeing her face light up reminded Alex of how hard she worked. In Alma, he’d never had any problem with their professional relationship. But something about Miami’s heat and hedonistic ways blurred the lines between business and pleasure.

      Maria was right. Part of her job was to deal with Gabriel Montoro so that he didn’t embarrass his family and/or derail the plans to reinstate the monarchy.

      Alex understood her priorities. But he didn’t have to like them.

      * * *

      Maria slept poorly and woke early. Her dreams had been a jumble of Alma and Miami and Alex. Gabriel hadn’t figured in those sequences at all. Which was really no surprise. Because as handsome and charismatic as the second-born Montero was, he didn’t make her heart beat faster.

      He amused her. He made her laugh. And she liked him a lot.

      But he wasn’t Alex.

      After fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, it became clear she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. Climbing out of bed, she slipped into her swimsuit, brushed her teeth and twisted her hair into a messy knot on top of her head. This was her best chance to get in some sunbathing before the sun became blistering.

      Draped from neck to midcalf in a conservative cover-up made of ecru lace, she made her way downstairs. Miami might have different standards, but Maria was a citizen of Alma and as such, subject to a certain code of dress and conduct. She would never do anything to embarrass the delegation.

      Other than the occasional hotel employee, she met no one. These early-morning hours were ones she enjoyed. Filled with the promise of a new day. Peaceful.

      Only when she stepped outside into the heat and humidity did things change. Not because of the weather. But because she ran headlong into a hard male body.

      Catching herself and grabbing for her tote, which threatened to spill everywhere, she looked up in consternation. “Alex.”

      He wore a gray T-shirt and navy running shorts. With some alarm, she realized that she had never seen his legs bare. If that weren’t enough to make her gawk and stutter, she also had to take note of his broad chest and the dark patterns where sweat marked his shirt.

      “Hello, Maria. You’re up early.”

      He spoke calmly, as though their last encounter hadn’t ended acrimoniously.

      She nodded. “I burn easily. I thought it might be nice to spend time at the beach now. I won’t be late for our meeting.”

      He cocked his head. “Am I such an ogre?”

      The teasing glint in his eyes made her stomach clench with feelings that were definitely not professional. “Of course not.”

      “Good.”

      They both stood there waiting for the other to speak.

      “You’ve been running,” she said, as if it weren’t obvious.

      “Yes.” When he removed his aviator sunglasses, his gaze was stormy. “It’s a stress reliever.”

      “You have a lot on your plate.”

      “The Montoros aren’t the only problem I’m juggling at the moment.”

      “What else is there?” She was genuinely curious.

      “This and that.” The words were flat. Without inflection. But the dark-eyed gaze held an intensity that made her nipples bead beneath two layers of fabric.

      She swallowed hard. “I won’t keep you then.”

      He took a step in her direction but stopped short. “I’d better hit the shower,” he muttered. “I’m having breakfast with Rafael Montero.”

      “Father or son?”

      “Father. He’s one generation closer to the past. I’m hoping he’ll help us sway the younger ones.”

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