Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

by Louise Fuller

  She swiped it away.

  Please let him leave. Please don’t make me have to look at him.

  ‘Yes, to England. And nothing you say is going to change my mind.’

  ‘Can’t we talk about this?’

  ‘There’s no point. There’s nothing to say.’

  ‘I can’t let you go, Kitty. Not like this. It’s late, and you’re upset.’

  She shook her head and she heard him breathe out unsteadily.

  ‘Then I’ll go. I’ll get a hotel.’

  ‘No.’ She turned. ‘Why should you leave? It’s your home.’

  ‘It’s your home too.’

  She tried not to look at him, but she just couldn’t stop herself. ‘It’s not. It never was. It just felt like it could be when we were at the plantation—’

  He took a step forward. His green eyes were fixed on her face, and he looked pale and shaken. ‘Nothing’s changed except our location.’

  ‘No, everything’s changed.’ She felt a flash of panic. She could feel herself wavering, wanting to believe what he was saying, longing to trust the hope in his eyes.

  ‘Because I told you I love you?’

  ‘And I told you that I don’t believe in love,’ she said.

  He reached for her hand. ‘No, you said you can’t believe in love, that you can’t feel that way again.’

  He was right. She could remember saying the words—saying them when she had been still in shock from finding out that she was pregnant with his baby.

  ‘But you do love me, Kitty. I know you do. And I know we can make this work.’

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he didn’t let go.

  ‘So why are you running away?’

  She didn’t reply, and his eyes searched her face.

  ‘Is it guilt? Do you think you don’t deserve to be happy again? Because you do. You deserve it more than anyone I’ve ever known. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve been so strong and brave.’

  Brave.

  The word tasted bitter in her mouth.

  Breathing out unsteadily, she looked up at him and shook her head. ‘I’m not brave. I’m the opposite of brave. You want to know why I can’t marry you? It’s because I’m scared.’

  He stared at her in silence, his eyes digging into hers. ‘Kitty, I don’t—’

  Tugging her hand free, she took a step backwards. ‘I know. You don’t understand. And I get that. I get that you need things that I can’t give you.’ Her eyes caught sight of the thin raised scar on his arm. ‘You live your life taking risks. You don’t feel fear. I knew that the first time we met.’

  Gazing down at Kitty’s pale, strained face, César felt his skin tighten. Was that what she believed? He wanted to laugh, except there was something blocking his throat.

  He thought back to the years he’d spent masking his easy-going trusting nature—the years he’d spent avoiding romantic attachments. Of course the sexual need had been there, and he’d taken care of that. Only he wasn’t just talking about the women who had briefly shared his bed but never his life. Riding bikes, jumping out of planes, diving to the sea bed—they had all been a way to test his limits, to make his heart beat faster.

  In a way that didn’t actually threaten his heart in the emotional sense.

  And somehow, over the years, he’d come to believe that it was enough—that the high of reaching the peak of a mountain was the same as the rush of seeing the face of the woman you loved light up when she saw you walk in the room.

  Only it wasn’t. And deep down he’d always known that. But he hadn’t been able to admit it to himself. Hadn’t been able to admit that that he chose to take risks with his life because he was scared of risking his heart. Scared of reaching out. Scared of sharing his life. Scared of trying for happily-ever-after and for ever.

  He looked at Kitty.

  But he was tired of being scared. And he was going to fight for Kitty even if that meant laying his feelings bare.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I know all about fear. And not the kind of fear you’re talking about.’

  His chest tightened. ‘Do you remember when we were at the plantation and my father called and we argued about me climbing El Capitan? You asked me why I wanted to do something like that.’

  She nodded. ‘You said it helped you forget about work and about how you felt you’d let your parents down.’

  ‘That’s what I told you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And I suppose on some level I was telling you the truth. But it’s not the whole truth.’ His pulse accelerated. ‘After Celia I was scared of being myself. I was scared to trust my own judgement. I was scared of falling in love. And I hated feeling like that. I hated letting fear govern my behaviour. I hated being a coward.’

  Reaching out, he took her hand again.

  ‘And that’s why I climb rock faces without a rope, why I pushed myself to the limit. It was so I could prove to myself that I wasn’t a coward. But the truth is I was still a coward. I was still living in the past, hiding behind the bikes and the boats, still scared...’

  The concern in her eyes made his heart swell.

  ‘And maybe if you hadn’t been out on that road that evening I’d still be scared.’ His fingers tightened around hers. ‘Before I met you I was living a lie, pretending to everyone that my life was exactly how I wanted it to be. But I wasn’t really living. I was just carving up each week into days, and each day into hours, and filling them up so I didn’t have to face my fears. And then I met you and everything I thought I wanted was worthless. Meaningless.’

  He breathed out unsteadily and, lifting her hand, he pressed it gently against his lips.

  ‘You know earlier today, when I was diving, I realised that nothing makes my heart beat as fast as you do. And all of that, and all of this—my business, my wealth—I could give it all up in a heartbeat. Because it doesn’t mean anything unless we’re together. You and me and the baby.’

  * * *

  Kitty could hardly breathe.

  You and me and the baby.

  She stared at him, tears burning her eyes. César wasn’t the only one living in the past. And like him she’d been viewing that past selectively as though through the wrong end of a telescope. Her vision had shrunk and her memories had focused on the sadness of losing Jimmy, not on the happiness of loving him, so that she’d become terrified of loving again. Only she’d never stopped loving that whole time. She loved her family, and she loved this baby growing inside her, and she loved César too.

  And he was right. It would be the same in England as in Havana. Changing the location wouldn’t change how she felt. Nothing could change that.

  Her heart was beating out of time, aching with a love she could finally express. ‘That’s all I want too.’

  Her tears were falling now, but she let them fall, and as he pulled her against him her tears mingled with his.

  ‘I love you.’ He kissed her fiercely. ‘I love you so much.’

  ‘And I love you too.’

  For a moment they just gazed at one another, breathing in each other’s happiness, and then, reaching down, Kitty twisted his wrist to look at his watch.

  ‘It’s the same time in Florida as it is here, so I guess your parents will be asleep, won’t they?’

  César shook his head. ‘Probably not. They still eat late, and they always have a siesta—’

  ‘And what time is it in England?’

  He frowned. ‘It’s about five o’clock in the morning.’

  ‘Then we should probably call your parents first.’

  ‘We should?’

  She bit her lip. Her heart was pounding. ‘Well, you want to invite them to the wedding, don’t you?’

  He stared at her blankly. ‘The wedding...?’

  ‘Unless you want to wait
until after the baby’s born?’ she said softly.

  His eyes, those beautiful green eyes she loved so much, rested on her face.

  ‘Are you asking me to marry you?’

  She nodded slowly. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d ask me a third time.’

  Reaching into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a small round box and opened it. ‘I was never going to stop asking you.’

  She felt her heart backflip. ‘Oh, César, it’s beautiful.’

  She watched, mesmerised, as he slid the sapphire and diamond ring shakily onto her finger, and then putting his hand under her chin, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently. Breaking away, he stared down at her, his green eyes transparent with love and hope.

  ‘That was a yes, by the way.’

  Her eyes met his and she nodded slowly.

  ‘Yes, it was. It is,’ she said. ‘It definitely is.’

  And, stroking his face, she kissed him back.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed Consequences of a Hot Havana Night by Louise Fuller you’re sure to enjoy the other stories in our Passion in Paradise collection!

  Wedding Night Reunion in Greece

  by Annie West

  A Scandalous Midnight in Madrid

  by Susan Stephens

  His Shock Marriage in Greece

  by Jane Porter

  Prince’s Virgin in Venice

  by Trish Morey

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  The Greek’s Virgin Temptation

  by Susan Stephens

  PROLOGUE

  DAWN ON THE best day ever! Kimmie dragged deeply on the scent of warm blossom and ozone as she threw open the shutters of her idyllic attic room overlooking the glorious sugar-sand beach.

  She could still call it off.

  Ridiculous. This was her wedding day! It was far too late to change her mind. Mike, Kimmie’s fiancé, was someone she’d known all her life. Much older than Kimmie and, as he’d told her himself, he’d be a steady hand on the tiller.

  Or a control freak.

  ‘Go to bed early. Stay in your bed until I call you,’ he’d told her last night. ‘You need your sleep. Tomorrow is an important day,’ he’d added as if she didn’t know.

  When did I become so biddable?

  Tiny bits of her had been chipped away, so small she’d barely noticed them.

  Kimmie frowned as she pulled away from the window. All brides got the jitters on their wedding day, didn’t they? A walk on the beach would sort her out. The sun was already warming the tiny Greek island of Kaimos, and Kimmie’s bridesmaid, Janey, was only down the corridor. They could both cool their feet in the sea and, hopefully, loosen up, in Kimmie’s case. But she couldn’t stop the thoughts coming.

  Was Mike just a safe option?

  He was the only option, and she had wanted to settle on a good man before the past put a stranglehold on her and turned her hard and cynical.

  Did she love him?

  If love was familiarity and the reassurance of never having to explain herself, then Mike fitted the bill perfectly. No one wanted to be alone. Not really.

  Did Mike love her?

  Enough questions! It was time to get dressed. Pulling on shorts and a top, she padded down the corridor to knock on Janey’s door.

  ‘Janey...? Are you awake? Can I come in?’

  Hearing something that might have been Janey calling out, ‘Yes!’ she took a chance.

  ‘Sorry to wake you so early, but—’ Words froze in her mouth. There was no escaping the sight of Mike naked in bed, with Janey on top of him, riding him for all she was worth. Which wasn’t very much, as it turned out, Kimmie reflected numbly as she stumbled backwards out of the room.

  CHAPTER ONE

  HIS FIRST DAY on Kaimos was ruined. Arriving late last night, Kris had opted to stay on his yacht. He’d thought an energetic swim in the sea would wash the cobwebs of the city away but, having reached his favourite beach, he was confronted by a group of tourists, apparently oblivious to the fact that this stretch of sand was his private preserve.

  Seawater drained off his body as he stepped out of the water and impatiently raked back his hair. He was immediately drawn to a woman at the head of the group. Great breasts, fantastic legs and the most eye-catching waist-length ebony hair streaked with purple. Wearing the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen, she was dancing down the dunes to the sound of an old beatbox one of her companions was carrying on his shoulder. She’d tied a brightly coloured chiffon scarf around her waist and it was decorated with something that flashed in the sun. Tiny bells attached to it jingled as she moved. There were so many strings of beads around her neck that if she went in the water, she’d surely sink. He liked quirky, but this was ridiculous, though her manner interested him as much as her looks. There was something wild, almost reckless in her behaviour, as if she had nothing to lose and was dancing to blot out some unpleasant incident. No doubt in on the facts, he guessed her friends were trying to show their support.

  What the hell? His hackles rose as they started to light a bonfire. On his beach! Then someone produced a dress from a sack—it looked like a wedding gown. Did it belong to the quirky woman? Yes, he gathered as she refused to touch it and, pulling a face, stepped back, leaving her friends to place it on the funeral pyre.

  Resentment clawed at his gut, but he was keen to see the drama play out. As the flames rose and the dress disintegrated, the woman remained motionless, watching. Her friends, having formed a protective circle around her, also remained still until the fire had guttered and gone out. With only ashes left, she stabbed at the embers with a stick, as if she had to be sure that every atom of the gown had been completely consumed. Dropping the stick, she walked to the water’s edge where, tugging a ring off her finger, she flung it into the sea. He watched it glint as it went out and glint again as a strong wave brought it straight back onto the beach again. The tide was working against her, though she had no idea that the ring had returned as she’d already turned away.

  Wanting to meet her for some reason he didn’t examine too closely, he retrieved the ring and caught up with her before she reached her friends. Holding it out on the palm of his hand, he asked, ‘Is this yours?’

  She stared at him in silence for a moment, and then her gaze dropped to his outstretched hand and she shuddered.

 
‘Take it, or I can toss it back,’ he offered.

  * * *

  Kimmie was in turmoil. Her heart was jumping in her chest. Not only had she survived the shock of her life this morning, and then tried to make things good for her friends, she was now confronted by a Titan who might have stepped straight out of myth and legend. And he was holding out the ring, expecting her to take it.

  She guessed he was around thirty years old. Huge and brutally masculine, he was the last thing she needed today. A piercingly intelligent stare that wouldn’t let her go, and hard, rugged features that looked as if they’d been hewn out of stone completed a picture she had no wish to see. His wild mop of thick, inky-black hair was still damp from the sea, and had caught on his sharply etched cheekbones thanks to the thick shading of black stubble that suggested he hadn’t shaved today. Tough enough to be a roustabout from the docks, she guessed he might be a local fisherman. Deeply bronzed by the elements, his body could have been sculpted by Michelangelo.

  ‘You found it,’ she said lamely, finding her voice.

  ‘Evidently,’ he confirmed.

  ‘But I don’t understand.’ She frowned. ‘I just flung it out to sea.’

  ‘And the tide brought it straight back again. I thought you’d want to know,’ he remarked in perfect English. His voice was deep and husky, and only faintly accented—Greek, she thought, having recognised the familiar intonation. So he was a well-travelled roustabout.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, shading her eyes to stare up at him.

  ‘And now you’d like me to throw it back again,’ he guessed with an amused quirk of his brow.

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can you make sure it doesn’t come back again?’

  ‘It won’t ever come back,’ he assured her, glancing at her hand on his arm.

  What was she thinking?

  She wasn’t thinking, Kimmie concluded as she snatched her hand away from his arm. Shock had sent her reeling this morning, and stunned amazement at seeing this man had halted her recovery stone dead.