A long pause followed, making Victoria wonder what the issue could be. When Missy resumed speaking, her tone was frosty. “There’d better not be anything going on between you and Rafael. The last thing I need is your drama derailing my wedding.”
Shit.If Missy suspected anything, she’d tell Ben. Who wouldnotapprove. Victoria switched to her nineteenth-century schoolmarm voice. “I wouldn’t dream of letting my personal life impact my job. That would be most improper.”
For that, she got a snort. “Most improper? Ben was right. Youarea cold fish.”
Victoria choked out a reply. “Excuse me?”
“When Ben told me you were coordinating the wedding, I was afraid you might use your feminine wiles to steal him back. But he told me I had nothing to worry about. Because you’re such a cold fish.”
A cold fish. Though she knew better than to let Ben’s words affect her, they still hurt. Back when they were dating, she’d never felt the same passion with him that she’d experienced with Rafael. Even so, she’d tried to meet Ben’s needs like a loving partner would. Agreeing to his demands. Praising his technique. Faking orgasms when need be. But the longer they were together, the less attentive he’d been in bed. Like she’d lost her appeal once he’d won her over. By the time she took him back after he’d cheated on her with Missy, he didn’t seem to care anymore. So, she’d reacted with equal indifference.
She cleared her head and responded with measured calmness. “I’m just trying to maintain a level of decorum appropriate to my position. Is there anything else you need?”
“Not right now. Text me the choices tomorrow morning.”
After Victoria agreed, she hung up the phone and took a deep breath.
Don’t let Ben get to you. After this wedding, you’ll never have to see him again.
* * *
Victoria’s pulseraced as she buzzed Rafael through the entry gate at five. Wanting to entice him, she’d changed into a low-cut, red silk blouse and a tight-fitting pair of jeans. She couldn’t believe they’d get to spend the whole night together. If they wanted, they could have sex in the living room. Or the media room. Or the pool. Although her queen bed with its thousand-count thread sheets and silken pillows was also an inviting choice.
When Rafael walked through the door, in jeans and a snug-fitting black shirt, she repressed the urge to throw herself at him. They had a job to do, especially since Missy was expecting results. So, instead of luring him into bed, Victoria kept her libido in check and ordered a pizza. They ate it while watching a reality show about people who viewed holiday decorating as if it were an extreme sport.
Once they were done, she prepared the bar, setting out bottles of liqueur, along with a variety of glassware and a wide selection of juices, sodas, mixers, and garnishes.
“That’s an impressive arsenal,” Rafael said. “Did you have to buy a lot?”
“Not really. My parents like to entertain, and my father prides himself on having a well-stocked bar. I just bought the unusual ingredients like the candy cane vodka and the coconut cream.” She grimaced. “To be honest, a few of these cocktails are too sweet for my tastes, but Missy might like them.” She handed him the list she’d made.
He gave it a once-over, then went behind the bar and pushed up his sleeves. “Which one should I start with?”
Seeing him in the role of bartender brought back steamy memories of Baja. Meeting him at the end of his shift, sharing a drink, and then venturing out to explore the nightlife—with copious time set aside for sex in her suite. “You look really hot, standing behind the bar.”
He shook his finger. “None of that, now, or we’ll never get the job done. If you’re a good girl, I might reward you.”
“Oh really?” She licked her lips. “What kind of a reward?”
“Let’s just say I’ll let you be as loud as you want. No throw pillows needed.”
Damn, if that didn’t fuel her lust. She leaned over the bar, allowing him a glimpse of her cleavage. “All right, barkeep. Let’s start out with the first drink on the list. A cranberry mojito cocktail. I like this one because it includes a mocktail version using ginger ale.” She held up a small container. “I already muddled the fresh cranberries and mixed them with the lime juice and mint leaves.”
He gave her a cheeky grin. “Aren’t you the helpful one? All right, one cranberry mojito coming up.”
The first few sips of the reddish-pink cocktail confirmed her suspicions. A perfect holiday beverage—light-tasting yet packing a definite punch. “I like this a lot. We should put it on the short list.” Rather than pace herself, she downed the whole drink.
Rafael refilled her glass from the cocktail shaker. “Have a little more. I have a feeling some of these drinks are only going to merit a few sips, at best.”
It went down far too easily. By the time Rafael started mixing the second drink—a riff on a screwdriver called a sleigh driver, with blood orange and pomegranate juice, she’d loosened up a little. But she still couldn’t shake her earlier conversation with Missy. Ben’s comment nagged at her like a sore tooth.
She looked Rafael in the eyes. “Do you think I’m a cold fish?”
He divided the sleigh driver between two highball glasses and passed one to her. “What? Where did that come from?”
She took a tentative sip. “Nice. Not bad. But it might be too basic.”
“Maybe. But you didn’t answer my question.”
