LITMIR.BIZ

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minutes later, she skipped down the stairs, making her way into the kitchen. The heat of the rising sun coming through the pocket doors warmed the marble floor under her bare feet. A group of seagulls had gathered along the beach, examining the remnants left on the sand with the incoming tide.

      A smile parted her lips when a gull swooped down, dropping something from its beak. There was a loud commotion as the others rushed over in an attempt to claim it. Vivienne saw a large clamshell on the sand after they'd flown away. The gull had dropped the shell in order to open it, but his feathered friends had duped him out of his breakfast.

      Shifting her attention from the scene beyond the glass, she examined the gourmet kitchen with granite-topped cabinetry in a pale paneled wood that gave the space a sleek but warm feeling. Most of the appliances, including the dishwasher and double refrigerators and freezer, were covered with the same light wood, while the backsplashes were covered in glass tiles.

      Diego's claim that the refrigerator was well stocked was confirmed when she opened it to find everything she needed to put together breakfast, lunch and dinner. Working quickly with a minimum of effort, she set the table in the dining area, ground fresh coffee beans for the coffeemaker, cubed a mango, cantaloupe and honeydew melon, and then placed four strips of bacon on an unheated stovetop grill. She'd just begun dicing peppers and onions and cubes of smoked ham for an omelet when Diego walked into the kitchen.

      She glanced up, and in the instant when their eyes met she felt the energy that made him so undeniably powerful. But she also felt the sexual magnetism that gave him a sense of self-confidence some men would spend a lifetime perfecting.

      “Good morning.”

      He smiled. “Buenos días.”

      Diego wanted to tell Vivienne that it was more than a good morning. In fact, it was a glorious morning. He'd finally fallen asleep and when he woke it was to the resolve that nothing would ever come from his attraction to his personal assistant. This morning she looked much younger than thirty-one. Dressed in an oversize tee, jeans, bare feet and with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she reminded him of his younger female cousins.

      He placed a small square white object on the countertop. “This is a programmable remote device for your car. When you depress the right button, my name and security code will go directly to the gatehouse. You'll have to do it whether you're coming or leaving.”

      “What's the left button for?”

      Diego gave her a long, penetrating stare. “A GPS panic button.” He smiled when Vivienne's delicate jaw dropped. “If you break down anywhere along the road leading to the complex, or if you believe someone's following you, then press it and the security team will respond.”

      A slight frown touched her smooth forehead as she concentrated on dicing ham in precise cubes. “I don't understand something, Diego.”

      “What's that?”

      “Why would you install a security system when you live in a complex with armed security?”

      “The armed security protects us from outside intruders, the inside security from resident intruders or their unsavory guests.”

      “Whatever happened to background checks?”

      “If you have enough money and know the right people, you, too, will be able to fly under the radar.”

      Placing a paring knife on the cutting board, Vivienne wiped her hands on a towel. “Come stand in the sunlight so I can check out your socks.”

      As Diego came toward her she noticed things about him she hadn't before. He had a quick step for a man who stood several inches above six feet and the toe of his right foot was turned in slightly. He was impeccably dressed in a stark white shirt with a spread collar and French cuffs with silver cuff links bearing his monogram. The hem of his dark gray pleated-front trousers ended at the precise break above a pair of polished slip-ons. The silk pinstripe gray tie was knotted in a perfect Windsor. Her gaze came to rest on his cleanly shaven face. Although not classically handsome, she thought Diego extremely attractive. Fastidiously well-groomed, he not only looked good but also smelled good.

      Vivienne met Diego's gaze and what she saw in the dark, deep-set orbs caused the muscles in her stomach to contract. Diego Cole-Thomas's expression could not disguise the curiosity lurking behind his enigmatic gaze. Her eyelids fluttered before she was able to bring her fragile emotions into some semblance of order. She'd met enough men to recognize that particular look, and at that moment she knew what her boss was thinking even if he wouldn't openly admit it—he was more than interested in her.

      “What do you want to know, Diego?”

      He blinked once. “Say what?”

      “What is it you want to know about me?”

      His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Vivienne?”

      She glared at him in what would've become a stare-down, but dropped her gaze. “Forget it.”

      Reaching out, he caught her wrist. “No, I'm not going to forget it. Something's bothering you, or you would've never asked me that question.”

      She struggled to free herself, but his slender fingers were like bands of steel. “I'm sorry I brought it up, Diego. Now, please let me go so I can finish making breakfast.”

      Diego released her wrist. “We'll continue this later tonight. If we're going to live and work closely together, then I don't want to have to deal with your moods. If I tick you off about something, then I expect you to tell me. “¿Comprende?”

      She nodded. “Yes, Diego, I understand.”

      “Good.” He winked at her. “You can check my socks now,” he said, pulling up his suit trousers.

      Vivienne leaned over, peering closely at a pair of black socks with dark gray specks. “They're good.”

      Diego curbed the urge to run his fingers through Vivienne's hair. There was something so endearingly domestic about her getting up to cook breakfast and check his appearance that he wondered if she'd done the same early on in her marriage to Sean Gregory.

      “Do you want me to help you with anything?” he asked when she straightened.

      Vivienne shook her head. “No, thank you. I have everything under control. I'm making an omelet for myself. Would you like one?”

      Moving closer to Vivienne, Diego rested a hand at the small of her back when he glanced over her shoulder, the gesture as natural as if he'd executed it countless times, as she picked up the knife to finish dicing the ingredients for an omelet. “I like my eggs over easy. Hey, you're pretty good with that knife.”

      Tilting her chin, Vivienne smiled up at him. Even though Diego was close, very, very close, she loathed asking him to move back. There was something so natural about them standing together that it took several minutes for her to realize what she was sharing with him at that moment was what she'd wanted with her late husband. The only time Sean had entered their kitchen was to open the refrigerator to get a bottle of mineral water or a cold beer.

      “That's only because I took a few cooking courses in France and Italy.”

      “Which do you like better—French or Italian cuisine?”

      She lifted a shoulder. “I'm somewhat partial to Italian.”

      Diego nodded. “So am I,” he said. “Do you like to travel?” He recalled the entry on her résumé that mentioned she'd traveled extensively for her former employer.

      “It all depends on where it is and the accommodations. The older I get, the less I'm willing to rough it.” Diego's hand fell from her shoulder when she moved over to the sink to wash her hands, and she missed his warm touch.

      “I can assure you if you travel with me on ColeDiz business, you definitely won't have to rough it.”

      Vivienne turned and stared at Diego as if she'd never seen him before. “I have to travel with

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