Читать книгу Australian Affairs: Tempted: Tempted by Dr. Morales - Carol Marinelli - Страница 11

THE BAR WAS hot and crowded but it was equally hot outside; there was just no escaping the heat.

There was no escaping Juan.

She was terribly aware of him when, about an hour after they’d got there, he arrived.

He came over and bought everyone drinks, but Cate told him that she was happy with her soda water.

‘When are you working with us again, Juan?’ Abby shouted above the noise.

‘I don’t think I am,’ Juan said. ‘I have some shifts already booked in the city.’

‘So this is your leaving do!’ Kelly said.

‘It might be…’

Cate stood there, watching her friends get louder, flirtier and more morose as they realised they might never see him again. By midnight, the night had turned into Juan Morales’s unofficial send-off. So much so that there was now going to be an impromptu party back at his home.

Impromptu might just as well be his middle name, Cate thought as everyone asked her to come along.

‘I’m working tomorrow!’ Cate said it three times, not that anyone listened.

‘It will be fun,’ Abby insisted. ‘Everyone’s going back.’

Half the bar, it would seem, was lined up outside to take taxis to Juan’s as, sober, fed up, tired and with her strapless bra digging into her, Cate headed out to her car.

‘Thank you for this,’ Juan said as he lowered himself into the passenger seat, far too tall for her rather small car. ‘I really should get there first to let people in.’

‘It’s no problem.’ Cate gave a slightly forced smile and then tried to turn it into a friendlier one as a couple of her colleagues and friends climbed into the back seat.

‘You don’t mind giving us a lift, do you, Cate?’ Kelly checked, though not until she’d put her seat belt on.

‘Of course not,’ Cate said, and put the air conditioner on. The blast of cold air was especially welcome a moment later when Juan said, ‘Cate, if you want to have a drink, you are very welcome to stay the night.’

Stay!

At Juan Morales’s apartment for the night!

Cate turned and gave him the most incredulous smile she could muster, before starting the engine. ‘Don’t they have taxis in Argentina, Juan?’

He gave her a shameless smile back and then answered with his deep, heavily accented voice, which had Cate’s stomach flip over on itself. ‘I’m just letting you know that the offer is there.’

The offer had been there for a while now.

‘I’m working at seven tomorrow morning.’

‘You’re staying for a drink, though,’ Juan checked, but Cate answered him with a question of her own.

‘Can you give me directions?’ she said as she pulled out of the car park.

‘Left ahead and then you go down…’ He even managed to give a sexual connotation to the simplest directions, Cate thought, or was it that she was just incredibly aware of him sitting next to her?

Cate glanced over and caught a glimpse of his strong profile. His grey eyes were framed by dark lashes, his nose was straight and he had full lips that smiled easily. There was an exotic streak that seemed to run through every inch of him.

‘Have you had your interview?’ Juan asked.

‘Not yet,’ Cate said, surprised that he’d remembered. ‘There are some external applications as well that they’re going through.’

‘So you would be the unit manager if you get it?’

‘The nurse unit manager,’ Cate corrected as she sat waiting for the traffic lights to change.

‘Wouldn’t you miss working with the patients?’

‘I’d still be working with the patients,’ came Cate’s rather tart response, not that Juan seemed to notice the nerve he had just jarred, or, if he had, he chose to pursue it.

‘Christine doesn’t.’

She turned and met eyes that were more than happy to meet and hold hers. ‘I’m not Christine,’ Cate said, because rumour had it he’d been sleeping with Christine when he’d first arrived and Cate could well believe it. When Cate had come back from annual leave, she’d found Christine in floods of tears in the changing room and it hadn’t been hard to work out why.

‘No,’ Juan said slowly and with a tinge of regret that made her throat tighten at the implication. His next loaded sentence seemed to insist she acknowledge the denied desire that simmered between them. ‘You’re not Christine.’

‘The lights have changed,’ Kelly called from the back.

As the car moved off Juan fiddled with her sound system and Cate cringed in embarrassment as a rather tragic break-up song came on.

‘You should be listening to happier music,’ Juan commented. ‘All that will do is make you feel more miserable.’

‘I’m not miserable at all.’

‘Have you spoken to Paul since the break-up?’ Abby chimed in from the back seat.

‘Of course I have,’ Cate said. ‘It’s all civil.’

‘Which means that it was long overdue,’ Juan commented, and Cate pursed her lips. It was the problem with being the so-called designated driver—you had to listen as things were discussed that generally wouldn’t be.

‘It doesn’t have to be all smashing plates and tears,’ Cate said, but didn’t elaborate. Trust Juan to hit the nail on the head, though. Paul had been upset and uncomprehending at first, yet she had been calm and matter-of-fact once her decision to end it had been made.

Oh, she’d waited for the tears, for torrents of emotion to invade, for all the drama that seemed a necessary part of a relationship break-up to arrive—but they hadn’t. She’d sat in her garden, sipping wine with her neighbour, Bridgette, with more a sense of relief than regret.

Juan was right, the break-up had been overdue.

‘How much longer are you in Australia?’ Kelly asked, and Juan turned a bit in his seat to answer and to chat with the girls in the back.

‘Just over two weeks.’

‘You should stay longer,’ Kelly said.

‘I can’t,’ Juan said, ‘my visa expires the day after I leave.’

‘Would you, though, if you could?’ Kelly persisted.

‘I think it’s maybe time to move on.’

‘Where now?’ Cate asked, and Juan turned back to face the front.

‘Turn right along the beach road and my place is about halfway.’

As she turned, the car jolted and Cate frowned. The car was not responding as it usually did, she could feel the groan of the engine.

‘There’s something wrong with the car,’ Cate said, having appalling visions of breaking down a few metres from Juan’s and, yes, ending up staying the night. The complication of a fling with Juan was something Cate did not need and frantically she looked at the dashboard. ‘It’s in manual…’ Cate frowned but Juan had already worked it out—their hands met at the gearstick and Cate pulled hers away.

‘My fault,’ Juan said, ‘my legs are too long.’ He slotted it back into drive. ‘My knees must have knocked the gearstick.’

God, he was potent. Cate’s fingers were still tingling from the brief touch as she pulled up at his apartment. ‘You are coming in?’ Juan checked as she sat with the engine idling and there was a moment when she wanted to be the taxi martyr and drive off—but rather more than that, yes, she wanted a further glimpse of his world.

‘Sure.’

Juan let them all in and it wasn’t quite what Cate had been expecting—it was a furnished rental apartment but a rather luxurious one with stunning beach views and a huge decking area outside. It was everything the well-heeled traveller needed for a few weeks of fun, Cate thought. Yet, despite the expensive furnishings and appliances, there was an emptiness and sparseness to it—a blandness even, broken only by his belongings.

Temporary.

Like Juan.

‘This is the type of music you should be listening to,’ Juan said, slotting his phone into some speakers. The room filled with music that under different circumstances Cate might want to dance to. Taxis were starting to arrive and, as more hospital personnel filled his home, Juan opened the French doors so that people could party inside or out, and then went to sort out drinks.

‘What do you want, Cate?’

He made no secret that his interest was in her.

‘I’ll get something in a moment,’ Cate said, and asked if she could use the bathroom.

‘Straight down the hall,’ Juan said. ‘And to your left.’

She followed his directions but straight down the hall was his bedroom—the door was open, the bed rumpled and unmade, and for a wild, reckless moment she wanted to give in to his undeniable charm, could almost envision them tumbling on the bed, a knot of arms and legs.

Cate pushed open the bathroom door and let out a breath.

This wasn’t like her at all.

She hadn’t ever really envisioned herself that way with anyone, not even Paul. Bloody Juan had her head going in directions it wasn’t used to. A part of her wanted to stop being sensible, ordered Cate and just give in to the feelings he ignited—to be a little wild and reckless for once. She knew that she was sending him mixed messages, that at times she found herself flirting with him in a way she never had with anybody else.

Cate washed her hands and had to dry them on her top because, of course, he didn’t have hand towels, just a wet beach towel hanging over the shower.

Whoops, there went her mind again, imagining that huge body naked on the other side of the glass shower door.

‘Go home, Cate,’ she said to herself. She was about to do just that, but when she got back to the lounge Juan handed her a large glass filled with ice and some dangerous-looking cocktail.

‘I’m driving,’ Cate reminded him.

‘I know, so I take care to make you something nice—it is right to take care of the designated driver.’

It was fruity, refreshing and delicious, yet she didn’t want to be singled out for the Juan special treatment, didn’t want to be the latest caught in his spotlight, but she knew that she was.

Cate danced a little, chatted with her friends, finished her drink and, having stayed a suitable length of time, when she saw that he was safely speaking with others, she said goodnight to Kelly.

‘Stay for a bit longer,’ Kelly pushed.

‘I’m going to go.’ Cate shook her head and slipped quietly away and headed out to her car.

He really had chosen a lovely spot to live—there were views of the bay to the front and behind was hillside. It all looked so peaceful, it was hard to imagine that across Victoria bush fires were raging, Cate thought, dragging in a breath of the warm, sultry night as she went into her bag for her keys.

‘Cate.’

She jumped a little when she heard Juan call her name. Had she not lingered that second she would have been safely in her car; instead, she had no choice but to turn to him.

‘Where I come from…’ he walked slowly towards her, his boots crunching on the gravel ‘…you thank your host and say goodbye…’

‘I didn’t know you were such a stickler for convention.’

‘I’m not,’ Juan admitted, still walking towards her as she backed herself against the car. ‘Just when it suits me.’

‘Thank you for a lovely night.’

‘And in my country,’ Juan continued, ‘the host would try to persuade you to stay for one more drink, would be offended that you were leaving so soon…’ It was all very casual, except his hand had moved to her cheek and was moving a lock of her hair behind her ear.

‘I’m good at offending people,’ Cate said. ‘There really is no need to take it personally.’

‘Don’t go.’ He smiled. ‘I only asked everyone back to get you here.’

She laughed.

She doubted it.

Actually, no, she didn’t, she believed it. Anything was possible with Juan.

‘I might not be called in to work again,’ he said. ‘So this could be it.’

‘It could be.’

‘I’d have liked to get to know you some more.’

She gave him a half-smile, but it wavered. Cate wanted to get to know him some more too, but for what? He made no secret that in a couple of weeks he would be gone. Juan seemed completely at ease with a brief fling, whereas it just wasn’t in her nature.

Except, yes, she wanted more of Juan.

‘Stay.’

‘Juan…’ Cate just couldn’t do it and she tried to make a joke. ‘I’ve got three brothers and they’ve all warned me about guys like you.’

‘What?’ He frowned.

‘Come on, Juan.’ She loathed how indecent he was. ‘Won’t whoever you were in bed with this afternoon mind?’

‘What?’ he asked again as the frown remained, but then it turned into a wicked smile. ‘That was my cleaning lady,’ he said. ‘I fell asleep on the couch, watching daytime soaps.’ He looked down at her, realised fully then that he hadn’t had sex since he’d dumped Christine, since a certain Cate Nicholls had stepped into his life—how with one turn of his head he’d been very turned on. ‘I love daytime soaps in Australia,’ he said. ‘They are filthy.’

Cate let out a small laugh.

She wasn’t sure she believed him about the cleaning lady, but did it matter?

She wasn’t his mother.

She wasn’t anything and, yes, very soon he’d be gone.

She turned to go, only half-heartedly because he had moved in to kiss her, and not on the cheek.

One kiss couldn’t hurt, Cate told herself.

It was time to have kissed someone else by now, Cate decided as his mouth met hers. Except she’d never known a kiss like it.

It was everything a kiss should be.

It was very slow and measured, his lips light on hers at first, nudging hers into slow movement. His hands crept around her waist and his tongue slipped in and slid around hers, slowly at first, letting her acclimatise herself to the taste of him, and she did, so easily. He tasted of raspberry and vodka and something else too, which Cate couldn’t quite place.

He took things slowly, but not for long. Just as she started to relax, just as she thought she could manage a kiss goodbye with Juan, he breathed into her, shed a low moan into her, pressed into her, pushed in his tongue more deeply, and Cate found her missing ingredient—it was a dash of sin that he tasted of, because no kiss had turned her on so much. The press of his erection made her push her mound into him, the feel of his hot hand on her back had her skin turn to fire.

It wasn’t just her first kiss after Paul, it was the first kiss she’d ever had that could propel her straight to the bedroom. She was kissing him back and with passion; it was still a slow kiss but their tongues danced with suggestion. His hand moved to her breast and how she wished she wasn’t wearing a bra that was too tight and digging in, but a moment later she wasn’t—as easily as that, Juan had undone it. Cate let out a small sigh of relief as her breast fell into his palm and then a moan of bliss as his hand cupped her and stroked.

‘I want you…’ He was at her neck and trailing his mouth down, she was stone-cold sober, yet almost topless and drunk on lust. He kissed back up to her mouth and she could feel the trail of wetness he had left on her chest—and how she wanted him. Her hands moved to his head and she felt the thick, long, jet-black hair that he refused to cut, felt the wedge of muscle of a man it would be so easy to be immoral with, understood exactly why women lost their heads to him, for she was losing hers.

She moved her hand down to his shoulder, her fingers sliding to his neck, but Juan’s hands halted hers and moved them onto his chest. It jolted her, just a little, for in that moment not a fraction of their bodies had seemed out of bounds. Cate had been utterly lost but she returned to common sense and he felt it, their eyes opening together, and she saw the regret in his as she pulled her mouth back.

‘We could be so good together…’ His forehead was resting on hers and she was struggling to get her breath.

Yes, they could be so good together but he would be so bad for her.

Cate wasn’t looking for forever but neither was she looking for one night, or one week.

She simply couldn’t do the casual thing, never had and never could. Could not walk into work tomorrow with everyone knowing she had succumbed to Juan’s undeniable charm.

How she wanted to, though.

How she wanted to give in to the urges that were pulsing through her as much as the music coming from his home, how she wanted to just say, yes, I can handle this. Except, stupid her, her body came attached to a heart that was already a bit bruised and did not need to be shattered by him.

Oh, it would hurt to have him and then not. That much Cate knew.

‘Get over him, Cate!’ Juan said.

She was so over Paul, not that he knew it. Cate did not dare reveal the truth, so she made a wry joke.

‘By getting under you?’

‘No,’ Juan said. ‘I want you on top. I want to watch you come.’

He was bad.

He was dangerous.

He was everything she wanted and yet everything she didn’t.

‘Thanks for a lovely evening.’

‘Would you like to go out tomorrow?’ Juan offered.

‘No, thanks.’

‘Cate…’

So she took a breath and told him, ‘I’m not what you’re looking for.’

‘You don’t know what I’m looking for.’

‘I don’t know what I’m looking for either,’ Cate admitted, ‘but it’s not…’ she tried to think of the right word and she didn’t know how best to say it ‘…you.’

‘Ouch.’

Cate smiled and climbed into her car and caught the lingering fragrance of Juan from when he had been in her vehicle, the expensive note that overrode others.

She knew that she hadn’t hurt him.

Ouch would be sitting in the staffroom in a couple of weeks’ time, hearing who he’d slept with next, or, if they did last the little time he had left in Australia, ouch would be waving him off at the airport. Ouch would be having had him and then trying to move on.

Cate had just ended one serious relationship—a rebound with the name Juan attached to it was heading way too far in the other direction.

She reversed out and waved to him, and, yes, she regretted it plenty. She could see them alone in his bedroom. many times she had envisaged him kicking those boots to the floor and letting herself be a notch on his temporary bed; many times she had wanted to let loose and be as superficial and as laid back about things as Juan.

So clearly she could see it now, could still taste him on her mouth as she drove off, her bra around her waist, her cheeks burning, her hands willing her to turn round and return to him.

Instead, Cate chose safety.