Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

by Louise Fuller

  * * *

  Tipping her head to one side, Kitty scooped up her mass of hair and raised her arms. It was mid-afternoon, the hottest time of the day, and she was sprawled on one of the loungers that were dotted invitingly around the veranda. She’d just detected the slightest of breezes and she let out a long, slow breath. The quiver of air felt blissfully cool against her neck.

  Actually, thanks to César, she felt blissful all over.

  She stretched out against the cushions, enjoying the ache in the limbs and the sated heaviness of her body. Oscar Wilde had been wrong. Giving in to temptation was not making César any less desirable. On the contrary, every kiss seemed only to intensify her hunger for him, and her pleasure—endless and exhilarating, mindless and insatiable—was nothing like it had ever been before.

  She let go of her hair, feeling it cascade over her shoulders.

  Nothing like it had been with Jimmy.

  But how could she think that sex with César was better than with the man she’d loved and married and watched die?

  Her heartbeat slowed, and she waited for the pang of guilt. Only none came. Was she then starting to realise that it was impossible to compare these two men? Or those two versions of herself?

  She had never kissed Jimmy as they’d sat down for lunch and then forgotten all about the meal, abandoning the food on her plate in the heat of a different kind of abandonment.

  But with Jimmy she had been so young, and in love for the first time. They had both been inexpert, nervous, but at the same time everything had been so familiar. There had never been that spark of hunger, nor any stomach-swooping rush of need because they—and everyone else—had always expected it to happen.

  With César she was learning that there was a lot more to sex—and to herself. She was discovering a hot, passionate woman who was living in the moment and enjoying it.

  From somewhere inside the house she heard César’s voice. He was on the phone and, judging by the mix of affection and exasperation in his voice, she was willing to bet that either he was speaking to his mother or his father.

  Picking up her robe, she sat up and tugged it over her bikini. He’d talked about his family, but people were different when they talked to their family. Standing up, curious to catch a glimpse of this uncensored version of César, she walked quietly back into the house.

  He was wearing his usual dark suit, talking in Spanish, and she allowed herself a moment to enjoy the flow of his words. It was such a romantic-sounding language.

  Her chest tightened. Except that César’s responses were growing curter by the minute.

  Abruptly he hung up and, not wanting to look like an eavesdropper, she said quickly, ‘Hi, I was just going to go upstairs and get changed—’

  ‘Okay.’

  Crossing the room, he picked up a cup of coffee and drank it swiftly. She stared after him uncertainly. He seemed tense and upset, more so than she’d ever seen him. Except when she’d refused to marry him.

  ‘Who was that on the phone?’

  He turned, his green eyes wary. ‘My father.’

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  He frowned. ‘He’s fine. He’s just annoyed.’

  His face didn’t change but his voice sounded clipped, distant—the voice of a CEO talking to an employee.

  ‘About what?’

  He frowned, glancing away. ‘Nothing. It’s not important.’

  ‘So why are you upset?’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  She stared at him, dumbfounded, winded by the harshness in the voice and by the realisation that this was how he saw her. She might be in his bed and carrying his child, but his thoughts were off-limits.

  Avoiding his cool, green gaze, she breathed out unsteadily. ‘You seemed upset. I just wanted to h-help.’ She stumbled over the word.

  ‘Kitty, please. I’m sorry.’ His voice had changed, the harshness fading. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’ Reaching out, he took her hand, his eyes soft now, contrite. ‘I was angry. With my father. Only I took it out on you.’ His jaw tensed. ‘I don’t even know why I said anything. I knew he’d get mad.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told him I was thinking about climbing El Capitan.’ Catching sight of her baffled expression, he said, ‘It’s a nine-hundred-metre granite slab. In Yosemite.’

  Thinking about his scars, she felt her heart do some kind of complicated two-step against her ribs. ‘Your dad’s probably just worried about you.’

  ‘Probably.’ His forehead creased. ‘He can’t understand why I’d want to do something like that.’

  Kitty stared at him. ‘And why do you?’

  Now he was staring at her—only she got the sense that he wasn’t seeing her, but someone else. Maybe the question had never occurred to him. Probably it hadn’t, given that he appeared to divert all his non-work-based energies into riding motorbikes and climbing ridiculously high pieces of rock.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘My life is pretty full-on. Sometimes—a lot of the time—it’s difficult to switch off. But when you’re on a motorbike, or climbing without a rope, the consequences of making a error are so stark you have to concentrate completely, and it’s kind of peaceful.’

  Peaceful? How could hanging onto a rock face be in any way peaceful?

  He gave her a small, tight smile. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but time seems to slow right down. Everything disappears. You’re just in the moment and it’s like you’re dancing with the rock. And when you reach the summit you have this euphoria...’

  She nodded, but her hand crept over her stomach. How could anything or anyone compete with that? ‘It sounds incredible.’

  He paused as though he was hunting for words or trying to make a decision. She caught sight of the wariness in his eyes and she waited, half expecting him to close down the conversation.

  ‘And it helps,’ he said finally.

  ‘With what?’

  ‘My frustration.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Not that kind. I’m talking about my parents. I love them. They’ve always put me first and given me everything. But it just frustrates me that I can’t give them what they want.’

  What do they want? The question formed on her lips but she didn’t need to ask it. She knew what they wanted.

  Her chest felt tight. Guiltily, she remembered the conversation they’d had about telling their families about her pregnancy. She’d been so wrapped up in her own concerns she’d not even considered his wishes.

  ‘Yes you can.’ Reaching out, she took his hand. ‘Tell them about the baby. We can tell them now, if you like.’

  His eyes met hers, then glanced away, and she pressed her hand protectively against her stomach.

  Just for a moment, idiot that she was, she’d thought he was upset at having to keep their baby a secret from his parents, but actually he was worried about them learning the truth.

  The shock of this discovery took her breath away.

  ‘I suppose this isn’t exactly what they planned,’ she said flatly. He didn’t reply, and she felt her pulse accelerate. ‘Did they have someone else in mind?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Did you?’

  ‘No—and no. But they had hopes.’

  He smiled then, only it was a smile that made her feel hollow inside.

  ‘They’ve always had hopes for me.’

  ‘Then they must be very proud,’ she said quickly, trying to ignore the needles of misery piercing her skin. ‘You’ve built an empire.’

  He nodded. ‘They are proud. But they’re very traditional...old-fashioned. To them, money and status is a bonus. It’s family that matters.’

  Kitty frowned. ‘You’re giving them a grandchild.’

  He nodded, but there was nothing affirming in his body language. He looked taut and unconvinced.

  ‘Is it because I’m Englis
h, not Cuban?’

  He shook his head. ‘My father will probably say that it’s fate. That at least now there was a reason for banishing them to La Yuma.’ Glancing at Kitty’s baffled expression, he gave her a small, tight smile. ‘The US.’

  But it wasn’t the slang that had confused her. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘What do you mean, “banishing them”? Who banished them, and why?’

  ‘The who is easy, it was me.’ He stared down at her hand entwined with his. ‘The why is more complicated,’ he said finally.

  His voice was offhand, but she could feel the tension pulsing through his fingers into hers. She hesitated. She didn’t know what the rules were for this kind of conversation in their kind of relationship. Or even if there were rules for their kind of relationship.

  She lifted her chin, felt the pinpricks of panic starting to dissolve. So you make the rules then, she told herself.

  ‘No, it’s not.’ she told him. ‘You just start at the beginning and carry on till the end.’

  The muscles of his arms trembled, and for half a second or so she thought he was going to pull away, but then he nodded slowly.

  ‘I was twenty-three. I’d just finished my studies and my father wanted me to take over the business. He’d had a lot of health problems and he’d been pretty much holding on, waiting for me to step up. Only I didn’t want to do it.’ He grimaced. ‘I was an only child, the son and heir, and I was spoilt and very much loved. I wanted to have fun and freedom, so I persuaded them to let me go to the US for a year.’

  She squeezed his hand. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Not much. I slept all day and partied all night.’ He hesitated. ‘That’s where I met Celia. At a party. She was older than me. Cool. Hard to pin down. Nothing like anyone I’d ever met. I chased her for weeks before she agreed to go out with me.’

  His jaw tightened.

  ‘I thought everything would change once we were together, but it didn’t. She moved into my apartment but quite often she’d just not come home. One time I got angry and she stormed off. I lost my head. I was so scared that I’d lost her that I ran out into the street in my boxer shorts but she’d gone. And then she wouldn’t answer my calls or messages.’

  He swallowed.

  ‘The next day I got a call from my mum and I went home. They knew immediately that something was up, so I told them I was in love with Celia and that I was going to marry her.’

  Kitty nodded as though she understood, but it hurt, hearing his pain. Hurt, too, knowing that he had been so in love. ‘What happened?’

  He looked down into her eyes. ‘They were appalled. They tried to talk me out of it, told me I was too young. I got angry again and stormed off.’ His face stiffened. ‘But not before I’d taken my grandmother’s engagement ring. I wanted to prove to Celia that I was serious—prove to my parents that I was an adult. When I got back to the US I found Celia and proposed to her, and she accepted. Then I rang my parents and told them I was getting married and staying in America.’

  His face was like a mask.

  ‘Two weeks later I came home early and found her in bed with the guy who lived down the hall. At first she cried, and then she got angry and told me it was my fault for being so needy and immature. That’s when I asked her to give my grandmother’s ring back. Only she said no, so I had to call my father. He sorted it out, but they were devastated and disappointed.’

  ‘They were just worried about you,’ she said gently.

  He shook his head. ‘I was stupid and naive. Too trusting and open. When I came back to Cuba I knew I had to change. And I did.’

  She nodded and, reaching out, she touched the dark fabric of his jacket. ‘You wear your suits like armour.’ She hesitated. ‘So why did you “banish” your parents?’

  He held her gaze. ‘Being back in Cuba just got harder and harder. I couldn’t be myself here.’ Looking away, he breathed out slowly. ‘You know how it is. We love life. Everyone talks and dances and flirts.’

  He smiled stiffly, and she smiled back. ‘I’d noticed.’

  He shifted against her. ‘Only I couldn’t be like that anymore. It worked being autocratic and formal at work, but I couldn’t be like that with my family and friends, so when my father got ill I used it as an excuse to move them to the US.’

  His mouth twisted.

  ‘They don’t hate it, but they’re really homesick. It would kill them, knowing I’m living here with you and that they aren’t a part of it.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve hurt them so much.’

  ‘And that’s why you wanted to marry me?’ Kitty swallowed, tears forming behind her eyes. ‘Not just to tie up loose ends?’

  He nodded. ‘It seemed like the perfect solution. I was never going to marry anyone for love, but I could be a husband to you, a father to our child, and give my parents what they want.’

  Kitty swallowed past the lump in her throat. To be young and in love was beautiful, and she’d been so lucky with Jimmy. He’d been sweet and straightforward. But César had been betrayed and hurt so badly that he’d retreated behind a mask.

  Only now the mask was gone.

  But the scars hadn’t. And she wasn’t talking about the ones she could see.

  ‘You’re a good person,’ she said softly. ‘A good son.’

  He looked pensive. ‘I shouldn’t have told you. I’m supposed to be supporting you, not the other way around.’

  ‘I’m glad you did.’ Reaching up, she stroked his face. ‘We’re here to support each other.’ She took a breath. ‘And that’s what we’re going to tell our families. That we’re having a baby and we’re taking our relationship one step at a time.’

  He gazed down at her in silence, and then he pulled her against him and she felt the tension seep out of him.

  ‘One step at a time,’ he repeated. ‘That sounds perfect.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  CLOSING HER LAPTOP, Kitty smiled slowly. Her heart was beating softly. Finally, after weeks of circling through her notes, she was finally making some progress. The characters of the two rums she’d been hired to create were taking form in her head, at least, and she had that same humming in her blood she’d had when she’d been making Blackstrap.

  Of course she’d have to do some tastings back in Havana, and run it past César.

  She glanced guiltily over her shoulder. True to his word, he had taken a step back from the business, so it seemed unfair of her to be working sneakily, but just like last time she was unstoppable.

  Leaning over, she pushed the laptop underneath her lounger. She was lying on the veranda. Above her, an apricot sun was inching lazily across a completely cloudless blue sky. She felt drowsy with heat, and thirsty too, only moving felt like such an effort—and besides, she just wanted to lie there a little longer and keep thinking.

  And thinking was really only possible when César wasn’t around.

  It felt as if he was always around now, even when he wasn’t. She thought back to the moment when she’d woken that morning. They’d woken early and made love, and then he had got up to go for a run and she had dozed, her body enveloped in the heat he’d left behind so that it had felt as though he was still pressing against her, his arm wrapping her tightly in the growing light.

  Frowning, she shook her head. Up until yesterday her feelings for him had been neatly filed into categories. For her boss, she felt a mixture of admiration and awe. Alongside that, her body resonated with a fierce, sexual hunger for César her lover, but there was also a feeling of reassurance from the man who was the father of her baby. In some ways it had felt as if she was dealing with three different men.

  But since opening up to her about his relationship with Celia and his guilt over his impulsive youthful behaviour he had changed, and now it was as though part of an invisible weight had been lifted. He seemed easier in himself, so that now she was seeing him as a whole p
erson.

  Only for some reason getting to know him better hadn’t simplified her response, instead her feelings were now a swirl of confusion.

  Her heart ached when she thought of how he must have felt when he’d found his fiancée in bed with another man. He had been young and alone in a foreign country, and he’d given his heart to a woman he’d thought felt the same way, only to learn that she’d betrayed him.

  Remembering how he’d talked about hanging around on beaches with his mates, she felt a surge of anger. Now that she knew the full story, it was easy to imagine the younger César with his easy smile, messing around with his friends. No wonder he’d been driven to suppress that side of his character. He’d done it to protect himself from further pain, and to spare his family from being hurt and disappointed again. But in doing so he’d had to close himself off from the people he loved most.

  Only not any more.

  Her heart contracted. They had spoken to her family first. Of course her mum had cried a little, but her happiness had been obvious. She’d sensed that Bill was desperate to engage César with rum-related topics, so it hadn’t been a long call, but she’d had a separate, private and more tearful conversation with Lizzie.

  It had been so good to talk to her sister. Lizzie was so candid and certain about everything. ‘You can’t just marry anyone, Kitty,’ she’d said firmly. I mean, why would you want to marry a jaw-droppingly handsome Cuban billionaire with a string of homes anyway?’

  They had both burst out laughing.

  ‘Seriously, though, there’s only one reason to ever get married,’ Lizzie had said, when finally they’d both calmed down enough to speak again. ‘And when you feel it you know where to find a bridesmaid.’

  Telling César’s parents had actually been easier than she’d expected. They were delighted by news of their forthcoming grandchild, clearly devoted to their son, and prepared to embrace his unconventional relationship with Kitty.

  And she’d seen how much their reaction had mattered to César. The tension which she had always taken to be a part of him, like the greenness of his eyes or the clean curve of his jaw, had eased a little. It felt as if together they’d begun to erase their pasts, and she was meeting him for the first time.