Fire and Desire - Brenda Jackson

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      And it was working.

      “Corinthians, are you still available to fly to South America to represent Remington Oil at the oil research summit?”

      Corinthians gave Adam Flynn her full attention and replied with a smile. “Yes, I'm available to go and looking forward to the trip.”

      “Good. And we'll look forward to hearing your report at our next meeting,” Adam Flynn replied. He then turned his attention to Trevor. “Do you know if Dex Madaris is still going?”

      Trevor smiled at Corinthians before turning his attention to Adam. “Due to family obligations, Dex has relinquished all travel plans abroad for a while. I'll be the one representing Madaris Explorations at the meeting in South America.”

      He turned and met Corinthians's shocked gaze. His smile deepened. “And I'm looking forward to the trip, as well.”

      When the meeting ended, Corinthians tossed Trevor a chilling glare before quickly leaving the conference room. A smile of satisfaction curved his lips. The gauntlet had been thrown down and the battle lines were officially drawn. The bout was on and it would be a fight to the finish; a fray he didn't intend to lose. He wouldn't accept anything but Corinthians Avery's complete, unconditional surrender.

      Her days of avoiding him were over.

      Chapter 2

      “Welcome to Rio de Janeiro, senhorita.”

      Corinthians Avery smiled at the irony of the man's greeting as she signed the hotel register. She hadn't felt welcomed a few hours ago when she'd been detained at the Brazilian airport by a customs inspector who thought her luggage appeared a little too full.

      “Thanks,” she responded in English, momentarily forgetting to use some Portuguese words she'd learned over the past couple of weeks.

      “Would the senhorita like a cup of cafezinko delivered to your room later?”

      Corinthians smiled. A cup of coffee, even strong, Brazilian coffee, sounded pretty good right now. “Sim obrigada,” she answered in Portuguese. She was awarded a smile from the hotel clerk for her effort.

      “Senhorita, you have a message,” he said, handing her the key to her room along with a sealed envelope.

      She opened the letter and scanned its contents. Call me when you arrive. I'm in room 301. Trevor.

      A deep frown appeared on Corinthians's face. She crushed the paper in her hand and tossed it in a nearby wastepaper basket, feeling angry that she had wasted even a second of her time reading Trevor Grant's note.

      “When did Mr. Grant arrive?”

      “Yesterday, senhorita.”

      She nodded. “Under no circumstances do I want my room number given out. And the only calls I'll accept are those from Remington Oil or from Reverend and Mrs. Avery. All others take down as messages.”

      The hotel clerk nodded in understanding.

      For the moment Corinthians felt a sense of relief in knowing she wouldn't be bothered by the likes of Trevor Grant…at least not for a little while. She would see him soon enough when the research summit began in a few days. As far as she was concerned, the less she saw of him, the better.

      “Don't you think it's time you stopped avoiding me?”

      Corinthians looked up from her meal and momentarily paused, startled by the beauty of Trevor Grant's dark eyes. She hated admitting it, but his glare made him appear even more handsome. But she also conceded that at the moment, standing next to her table in a menacing stance with hands on his hips, he looked downright threatening. Her eyes narrowed as she looked him over, noticing the casual way he was dressed, wearing a pair of khaki pants and a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She wondered if there was any type of clothing he didn't look good in.

      “I asked you a question, Corinthians.”

      His sharp tone brought her gaze back to his face. “Trying to avoid you, Mr. Grant, would take too much effort, and I wouldn't waste my time on such a task.” She resumed eating, knowing in all actuality, she had been avoiding him since arriving yesterday.

      “Then you shouldn't have a problem if I joined you for dinner,” he said, taking a chair across from her.

      She frowned. “I do have a problem with it. It was my intent to sit here and enjoy a quiet meal.”

      Trevor's face melted in a buttery smile, showing beautiful white teeth. “A quiet meal? I see no reason why you won't have one.” He glanced down at her plate. “I doubt that food will make any noise. Trust me, I'll be the first to leave if it does.”

      Corinthians didn't find his words the least amusing. “Look, Mr. Grant, I—”

      “I'm Trevor, remember.”

      “You're whatever I see fit to call you. Just be glad it's not something a lot worse.”

      Trevor leaned toward her. His eyes turned cold as he met her glare. “I'm not worried about you calling me anything but my given name. You're too much of a lady to do anything else.”

      Color flamed Corinthians's cheeks as she reacted to his statement, not liking the emphasis he had placed on the word lady. He had insultingly reminded her of that night she had stood before him looking like anything but a lady.

      Her facial muscles tensed and her glare hardened. No true gentleman would deliberately remind a woman of one of her most humiliating experiences. She sighed. If she was no lady, then he certainly wasn't a true gentleman. She was spared from telling him that fact when the waitress came to take his order.

      “You look nice today, Corinthians,” he said after the waitress had left.

      She lifted her head. The look she gave him indicated his compliment didn't faze her. However, since she'd been brought up with the belief that displaying good manners was essential, even to someone like Trevor Grant, she answered stiffly. “Thank you.”

      “You're welcome. And you smell nice, too.”

      Corinthians stared into Trevor's eyes. “Why all the compliments? Let's be honest with ourselves, shall we? I don't like you. You don't like me. For reasons that I'd rather not get into, we don't get along. However, since our jobs occasionally bring us in contact with each other, I believe we can handle the situation like two professional adults.”

      Trevor eyed her thoughtfully. “If you believe that, then why are you always avoiding me?”

      “I don't always avoid you.”

      “Then why haven't you responded to my messages?”

      “I had a rather taxing flight yesterday from Austin to Miami. And to top it off, when I arrived at the airport I was stopped. Brazilian customs officials who went through every piece of luggage I brought with me detained me. By the time I checked into the hotel, I was too tired to be bothered by anyone.”

      Corinthians sighed. That much of what she had just told him had been the truth.

      Trevor raised a surprised brow. South America was known to be lax when it came to airport security. More drugs and contraband were smuggled in and out of this continent than any other place that he knew of, and usually under the airport officials' indifferent eyes. He wondered why she had been stopped. “Brazilian officials actually stopped you?”

      Corinthians met his stare. “Yes. I was detained for more than two hours. It probably would have been longer had I not made a scene and threatened to contact someone at the American Embassy.”

      At that moment the waitress returned with Trevor's meal. He had ordered churrasco, an array of different kinds of meats grilled on skewers. In addition to his glass of Brazilian brandy, the waitress also left him a small bottle of malagueta, a spicy sauce made from crushed, hot red peppers. When he uncapped the bottle, the spicy-hot aroma nearly took Corinthians's breath away.

      “I

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