LITMIR.BIZ

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there first to let people in.’

      ‘It’s no problem.’ Cate gave a slightly forced smile and then tried to turn it into a friendlier one as a couple of her colleagues and friends climbed into the back seat.

      ‘You don’t mind giving us a lift, do you, Cate?’ Kelly checked, though not until she’d put her seat belt on.

      ‘Of course not,’ Cate said, and put the air conditioner on. The blast of cold air was especially welcome a moment later when Juan said, ‘Cate, if you want to have a drink, you are very welcome to stay the night.’

      Stay!

      At Juan Morales’s apartment for the night!

      Cate turned and gave him the most incredulous smile she could muster, before starting the engine. ‘Don’t they have taxis in Argentina, Juan?’

      He gave her a shameless smile back and then answered with his deep, heavily accented voice, which had Cate’s stomach flip over on itself. ‘I’m just letting you know that the offer is there.’

      The offer had been there for a while now.

      ‘I’m working at seven tomorrow morning.’

      ‘You’re staying for a drink, though,’ Juan checked, but Cate answered him with a question of her own.

      ‘Can you give me directions?’ she said as she pulled out of the car park.

      ‘Left ahead and then you go down…’ He even managed to give a sexual connotation to the simplest directions, Cate thought, or was it that she was just incredibly aware of him sitting next to her?

      Cate glanced over and caught a glimpse of his strong profile. His grey eyes were framed by dark lashes, his nose was straight and he had full lips that smiled easily. There was an exotic streak that seemed to run through every inch of him.

      ‘Have you had your interview?’ Juan asked.

      ‘Not yet,’ Cate said, surprised that he’d remembered. ‘There are some external applications as well that they’re going through.’

      ‘So you would be the unit manager if you get it?’

      ‘The nurse unit manager,’ Cate corrected as she sat waiting for the traffic lights to change.

      ‘Wouldn’t you miss working with the patients?’

      ‘I’d still be working with the patients,’ came Cate’s rather tart response, not that Juan seemed to notice the nerve he had just jarred, or, if he had, he chose to pursue it.

      ‘Christine doesn’t.’

      She turned and met eyes that were more than happy to meet and hold hers. ‘I’m not Christine,’ Cate said, because rumour had it he’d been sleeping with Christine when he’d first arrived and Cate could well believe it. When Cate had come back from annual leave, she’d found Christine in floods of tears in the changing room and it hadn’t been hard to work out why.

      ‘No,’ Juan said slowly and with a tinge of regret that made her throat tighten at the implication. His next loaded sentence seemed to insist she acknowledge the denied desire that simmered between them. ‘You’re not Christine.’

      ‘The lights have changed,’ Kelly called from the back.

      As the car moved off Juan fiddled with her sound system and Cate cringed in embarrassment as a rather tragic break-up song came on.

      ‘You should be listening to happier music,’ Juan commented. ‘All that will do is make you feel more miserable.’

      ‘I’m not miserable at all.’

      ‘Have you spoken to Paul since the break-up?’ Abby chimed in from the back seat.

      ‘Of course I have,’ Cate said. ‘It’s all civil.’

      ‘Which means that it was long overdue,’ Juan commented, and Cate pursed her lips. It was the problem with being the so-called designated driver—you had to listen as things were discussed that generally wouldn’t be.

      ‘It doesn’t have to be all smashing plates and tears,’ Cate said, but didn’t elaborate. Trust Juan to hit the nail on the head, though. Paul had been upset and uncomprehending at first, yet she had been calm and matter-of-fact once her decision to end it had been made.

      Oh, she’d waited for the tears, for torrents of emotion to invade, for all the drama that seemed a necessary part of a relationship break-up to arrive—but they hadn’t. She’d sat in her garden, sipping wine with her neighbour, Bridgette, with more a sense of relief than regret.

      Juan was right, the break-up had been overdue.

      ‘How much longer are you in Australia?’ Kelly asked, and Juan turned a bit in his seat to answer and to chat with the girls in the back.

      ‘Just over two weeks.’

      ‘You should stay longer,’ Kelly said.

      ‘I can’t,’ Juan said, ‘my visa expires the day after I leave.’

      ‘Would you, though, if you could?’ Kelly persisted.

      ‘I think it’s maybe time to move on.’

      ‘Where now?’ Cate asked, and Juan turned back to face the front.

      ‘Turn right along the beach road and my place is about halfway.’

      As she turned, the car jolted and Cate frowned. The car was not responding as it usually did, she could feel the groan of the engine.

      ‘There’s something wrong with the car,’ Cate said, having appalling visions of breaking down a few metres from Juan’s and, yes, ending up staying the night. The complication of a fling with Juan was something Cate did not need and frantically she looked at the dashboard. ‘It’s in manual…’ Cate frowned but Juan had already worked it out—their hands met at the gearstick and Cate pulled hers away.

      ‘My fault,’ Juan said, ‘my legs are too long.’ He slotted it back into drive. ‘My knees must have knocked the gearstick.’

      God, he was potent. Cate’s fingers were still tingling from the brief touch as she pulled up at his apartment. ‘You are coming in?’ Juan checked as she sat with the engine idling and there was a moment when she wanted to be the taxi martyr and drive off—but rather more than that, yes, she wanted a further glimpse of his world.

      ‘Sure.’

      Juan let them all in and it wasn’t quite what Cate had been expecting—it was a furnished rental apartment but a rather luxurious one with stunning beach views and a huge decking area outside. It was everything the well-heeled traveller needed for a few weeks of fun, Cate thought. Yet, despite the expensive furnishings and appliances, there was an emptiness and sparseness to it—a blandness even, broken only by his belongings.

      Temporary.

      Like Juan.

      ‘This is the type of music you should be listening to,’ Juan said, slotting his phone into some speakers. The room filled with music that under different circumstances Cate might want to dance to. Taxis were starting to arrive and, as more hospital personnel filled his home, Juan opened the French doors so that people could party inside or out, and then went to sort out drinks.

      ‘What do you want, Cate?’

      He made no secret that his interest was in her.

      ‘I’ll get something in a moment,’ Cate said, and asked if she could use the bathroom.

      ‘Straight down the hall,’ Juan said. ‘And to your left.’

      She followed his directions but straight down the hall was his bedroom—the door was open, the bed rumpled and unmade, and for a wild, reckless moment she wanted to give in to his undeniable charm, could almost envision them tumbling on the bed, a knot of arms and legs.

      Cate

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