Postcards From Rio

Clare wanted to ask him more details of his friendship with Miguel, but Diego changed the subject. ‘This evening I am hosting a party at my nightclub and I want you to act as my hostess.’ The hard expression in his eyes challenged her to refuse, but she had decided there was no point in arguing with him when he was obviously determined to have his own way.

His brows lifted as if he was surprised by her sudden compliance. He held open his office door, but as she was about to step into the corridor he traced his thumb pad lightly across her swollen, kiss-stung lips. ‘I suggest you go to the cloakroom and repair your make-up, unless you want the other members of staff to know that you have been thoroughly kissed by the boss,’ he drawled.

Swallowing down a rude retort, she nevertheless deemed it wise to take his advice, and groaned when she saw in the mirror her swollen mouth and dishevelled hair. Diego was right, she looked utterly ravished. Her inability to resist him was humiliating. She must not allow him to kiss her again, she told herself sternly. From now on she would be a model of businesslike efficiency, and she was determined to organise a PR campaign for DC Diamonds that would impress Diego with her professionalism.