Victoria Parker - His Ultimate Demand

Michel took out the deboned chicken breast in the fridge. ‘Would you like me to cut it up for you?’

‘Normally, I’d say yes, but I think it’s best if I do everything myself.’ She smiled to take the sting out of the refusal.

He shrugged. ‘Shout if you need anything.’ After helping himself to a bottle of water, he left her alone.

Ruby selected the best knife and began chopping garlic, onions and the fresh herbs Michel kept in the special potted containers in the pantry.

The sense of calm and pure joy in bringing the ingredients together finally soothed the unsettled feeling she’d experienced for the last forty-eight hours.

Time and anxiety suspended, and her thoughts floated away as she immersed herself in her one salvation—the joy of cooking.

She started on the caviar-topped bruschetta with ricotta and peppers while the parmigiana was in the last stages of cooking.

Setting it out on a sterling-silver tray, she headed upstairs to where the crew had set the table.

Her feet slowed when she saw the extra place setting, then she stopped completely at the intimacy created by the dim lighting and lit candles. Her stomach fluttered wildly as steel butterflies took flight inside her.

‘Are you going to stand there all evening?’ Narciso quipped from where he sat on a sofa that hugged the U-shape of the room.

‘I...thought I was cooking for just you.’

‘You thought wrong.’ He stood, came over and pulled out her chair. ‘Tonight we eat together.’ His gaze took in her jeans. ‘Right after you change.’

‘I don’t need to change.’

‘One rule of business is to learn to let the little things slide. Standing on principle and antagonising your potential business partner doesn’t make for a very good impression.’

‘I really appreciate you helping me out but—’

‘I would personally prefer not to eat with a dinner companion wearing clothes smeared with food.’

Ruby glanced down and, sure enough, a large oily streak had soiled her vest top.

He’d gone to the trouble of providing new clothes for her comfort. Would it hurt to show some appreciation? In a few days, she’d be back in New York, hopefully with a contract firmly in her pocket. He’d made it clear she was no longer attractive to him in the sexual sense, so she had nothing to fear there.

‘I’ll go and change,’ she murmured around the disquiet spreading through her.

‘Grazie,’ he replied.

Returning to her suite, she quickly undressed and selected a soft peach, knee-length sundress with capped sleeves. Slipping her feet into three-inch wedged sandals, she tied her hair back and returned to the deck.

His gaze slid over her but his face remained neutral as he pulled out her chair.

‘Sit, and tell me what you’ve made for us.’

The intimate us made her hand tremble. Taking a deep breath, she described the first course. He picked up a piece of bruschetta, slid it into his mouth and chewed.

The process of watching him eat something she’d made with her two hands was so strangely unsettling and erotic her fingers clenched on her napkin.

‘Hmm, good enough.’ He picked up another piece and popped it in his mouth.

When she found herself staring at his strong jaw and throat, she averted her gaze, picked up a piece and nibbled on the edge. ‘Damned with faint praise.’

‘The cracked pepper adds a zing. I like it.’

Heady pleasure flowed through her. ‘Really?’

‘I always mean what I say, Ruby.’ His grave tone told her they weren’t talking about just food.

‘O...okay,’ she answered. ‘I have to check on the parmigiana in ten minutes.’

‘That’s more than enough time for a drink.’

Abandoning her half-eaten bruschetta, Ruby headed for the extensive bar, only to stop dead.

‘We’re no longer moored?’ The bright lights of the marina had disappeared, leaving only the stunning dark orange of the setting sun as their backdrop.

‘No, we’re sailing along the coast. Tomorrow morning, I intend to dive the Blue Hole. Do you dive?’ he asked.

She continued to the bar, her nerves jumpier than they had been a minute ago. ‘I did, a long time ago.’

‘Good. You’ll join me.’

‘Is that a request or a demand?’

He’d ignored her for the past two days. The idea that he now wanted to spend time with her jangled her fraying nerves. As she recalled what had happened on the plane heat and confusion spiked anew through her.

‘It’s a very civilised request.’

And yet...

Regardless of what Narciso was requesting, the last thing she needed to be doing was anticipating spending any time in his company. He made her lose control. She only had to look into his eyes to feel herself skating close to emotional meltdown.

The last thing she’d wanted when she met Narciso was to give in to the attraction she’d felt for him. But perversely, now he’d made it clear he intended to give her a wide berth, her mind kept conjuring up scenarios of how things could be between them.

She’d been wrong to compare Narciso to Simon, or even to her father. Despite the playboy exterior, she’d glimpsed a core of integrity in her potential new business partner that was markedly absent from the men she’d so far encountered.

Potential new business partner...

Therein lay her next problem. Whether active or passive, if she passed his test, Narciso would own a share in her business. They’d have a business relationship.

Which meant, nothing could be allowed to develop between them personally.

She worked almost absent-mindedly and only realised the drink she’d made after she opened the cocktail shaker. Aghast, she stared into the bold red drink.

‘Are you going to serve...what is that anyway?’

Flames surged up her cheeks. ‘Allow me to present the Afrodisiaco.’

One brow cocked; a touch of the irreverence she’d become used to darted over his features. ‘Is there a message in there somewhere?’

That she’d produced one of the most suggestive cocktails on her list made her pulse jump as she poured it. ‘It’s just a name.’

He immediately shook his head. ‘I’ve learned that nothing is ever what its face value suggests.’ He sipped the cocktail, swirled it around in his mouth. ‘Although now I’ve tasted this, I’m willing to alter that view.’

‘Narciso...’ The moment she uttered his name he froze. Another crack forked through the severely compromised foundation of her resistance as she watched his eyes darken.

‘No, Ruby mio, you don’t get to say my name for the first time like that.’

She paused. ‘I’m sorry, but you need to explain to me what the last two days have been about.’

‘Basta...’ His voice held stark warning.

‘Non abbastanza! I didn’t ask you to seduce me on your plane. In fact, I made it very clear I wanted to be left alone because I knew— I wasn’t... Look, whatever experiences you’ve had in the past are your own. But you told me you didn’t like women who blew hot and cold. Well, guess what, that’s exactly what you’re doing!’

‘Are you quite finished?’ he grated out, his face a mask of taut control.

She gripped the counter until her knuckles whitened and she stared down at her dress. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not. Thank you for buying the clothes. If I appeared unappreciative before it was because I’ve learnt that nothing comes for free.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied coolly. ‘Now am I allowed to respond to that diatribe?’

‘No. I have to check on the chicken parmagiana. The last thing I want to do is jeopardise my chances by serving you burnt food.’ She rounded the bar and walked past him.

He grasped her wrist, easily imprisoning her.