my boss in my bed

'Oh, yes, there are snakes-' his grin widened as he glanced towards her thoroughly inadequate shoes '-and then there are the giant

anteaters, jaguars and the-'

'OK, I think I've heard enough,' she said breathlessly, interrupting him

with a shaky smile. Any moment now she'd be clinging to his arm and begging him to fly her home. 'I'm sure Mr Cordeiro wouldn't live here if it were that dangerous.'

The pilot threw back his head and laughed. 'You obviously don't know the first thing about him. He lives here because it's that dangerous, baby doll. He has a low boredom threshold. Likes to live life on the edge, so to speak.'

Baby doll? The careless way he'd diminished her to nothing irritated

Grace sufficiently for her to forget her nerves. All her life she'd been

patronised and underestimated. All her life people had doubted and dismissed her. And she'd proved them wrong, over and over again. She'd fought against the odds and she'd succeeded. Until now.

Now she was in danger of losing everything she'd worked for.

And she wasn't going to let that happen.

This was probably the most important fight of her life and she was going to win. She had to win. And to win she had to forget that she was probably the worst person in the world to be given the responsibility of talking numbers with the Brazilian billionaire with the computer brain.

She had to forget everything except the consequences of losing. And the

people depending on her. If she failed then they lost their jobs, it was as simple as that.

If Rafael Cordeiro called in his loan, then it was all over.

The humid, oppressive heat wrapped itself around her like a thick, suffocating cloak and she pushed a damp strand of hair away from her face, her eyes drawn upwards, following the straight lines of the trees that rose to such impressive heights. It was like being in a remote, exotic paradise and it was hard to remember that cities like London and Rio de

Janeiro even existed. 'Isn't he afraid, living out here?'

'Cordeiro?' The pilot chewed on a piece of gum and gave a grim smile.

'He isn't afraid of anything.'

Knowing that if she heard any more about the man she wouldn't have

the courage to face him, let alone fight her corner, Grace stumbled out of

the helicopter and discovered that her legs were shaking. At that precise

moment she would have been hard pressed to say whether she was more afraid of the jungle or Rafael Cordeiro.

In a world obsessed with celebrity and image, he treated the notion of both with something approaching contempt, rejecting every invitation to talk about himself. And he didn't need to, because everyone else did the

talking for him. The papers were full of curvaceous blondes who'd been

persuaded to 'tell all' for the right amount of money. And so the whole world knew about his relentless pursuit of his billions, his prowess as a lover and his determined refusal to indulge in 'happy ever after'.

Once. Once he'd done that and the news of his glamorous wife's

departure from his life after less than three months of wedded bliss had

filled the newspapers with stories that had lasted longer than the marriage.

He'd been impossible to live with.

He'd ended their relationship by email.

He was only interested in making money. And more money.

The speculation had been endless but if any of it was to be believed then Rafael Cordeiro was little more than a machine and she knew, she

just knew, even before she had to fight for her business, that he was

going to be just the sort of man that brought out the worst in her.

She wouldn't look at him, she promised herself. If she didn't look at him

she wouldn't become tongue-tied or stammer. She'd just pretend that she was in her small sitting room at home, talking to the mirror as shealways did when she had an important presentation to memorise.

Grace felt her stomach lurch again and this time the feeling of sickness

that enveloped her had nothing to do with the helicopter and everything to do with her past. At times like this-times that really mattered-the

memories rolled up behind her like a giant wave, waiting to engulf her.

For her this was the ultimate test. And she wouldn't fail. She just couldn't.

Too much was at stake.

There was no reason to be afraid of Rafael Cordeiro, she assured

herself as she stroked a hand over her straight, formal skirt and forced herself to move forward onto the wooden walkway that was suspended

above the forest floor.

His personal life, no matter how dark, wasn't her concern. This meeting was about business and, whatever murk hovered around the man, he was a businessman, like her father. When she showed him her

plans for taking the business into profit, he'd be positive. He'd change

his mind about calling in the loan. She would save everyone's job and then she could fly home and leave the jaguars, the snakes and the billionaire Brazilian businessman to their jungle hideaway.

The tropical heat made her suit stick to her body and suddenly she

realised just how woefully ill-prepared she was to meet this man. She wasn't even comfortable in her clothes. Stooping to free the spindly heel of her shoe from the careless bite of the wooden planks beneath her feet,

Grace clutched the briefcase in her hand and suddenly wished she'd

gone over the figures one more time in the helicopter.

But what difference would that have made? With the help of her

father, she'd committed them to memory. There was nothing in her

briefcase that wasn't already fixed in her mind.

Jerking her shoe from the jaws of the walkway, she regained her balance and straightened. And saw him.

He stood directly in front of her, as dark and dangerous as anything

that might have prowled out of the jungle, his body completely still, his eyes watchful.

And he was watching her.

Entirely unprepared for the physical impact of the man, Grace ceased

to breathe. The helicopter, the rainforest and all her problems just

seemed to melt into the background and she was conscious only of him.

His tarnished reputation had caused her mind to conjure up physical images that were so far removed from reality that for a moment Grace

couldn't do anything except stare, as hundreds of women had undoubtedly stared before her.

His eyes locked on hers with the lethal accuracy of a deadly weapon

and the breath left her body and every thought was sucked from her

mind. For a wildly unsettling moment she couldn't remember anything

about herself. She couldn't remember what she was doing here. Her body felt strangely lethargic and warmth as thick as treacle spread slowly through her limbs.

'Miss Thacker?' The hard bite of his deep, masculine voice was sufficient to wake her from her dreamy contemplation of his manly

attributes and she gave a little start, desperately hoping that he hadn't

noticed her embarrassing reaction.

So much for being cool and businesslike, she thought. And so much for her plan not to look at him. His physical presence and his film-star looks demanded attention. As she stood there gaping, it was a struggle to

remind herself that this man was said to be ruthless and cold-hearted.

For her, that wasn't a winning combination of character traits.

Looking into his deep-set, cynical eyes, she decided that there was something about his cool scrutiny that made him more menacing and intimidating than all the jungle predators put together and she knew in

an instant that his pilot had been telling the truth about one thing-this man was no angel.

Forcing her legs to move, she walked towards him, her briefcase in

one hand, the other seeking the reassurance of the rough rope handrail.

Even without the benefit of billions of dollars, Rafael Cordeiro would have attracted women. His hair was blue-black and swept back from a

face that was as hard as it was handsome. The golden sheen of his bronzed skin betrayed his Brazilian heritage and the soft fabric of his casual shirt clung to shoulders that were wide and powerful.

She watched for his reaction to her arrival but he revealed nothing.

His mouth didn't shift into a smile and his eyes, so dark and brooding, showed no sign of welcome. It seemed that he was as unfriendly as he was handsome and the way he was looking at her made her want to

sprint back up the walkway and leap into the departing helicopter.

If she hadn't known better she would have thought she'd upset him in

standing in the road waiting to be run over.

'Absolutely.' His voice was as hard as his gaze was unsympathetic. 'In your position I'd be quaking in my boots and I'd be using every trick in the book to try and save myself, even down to the high heels, the

innocent smile and the shiny hair. Go for it, I say.'

'I don't understand what you're implying.' Did he realise how uncomfortable she was in the shoes and the heels? Did he know that she'd been trying to impress him?

'I'm saying that your business is in serious trouble, Miss Thacker, and I'm the only one who can save it so I don't blame you for using every

trick at your disposal to try and turn the tide. But I ought to warn you that it won't make any difference. I won't extend my investment and as

far as I'm concerned you deserve everything that's coming to you.'

His callous lack of sentiment was like a vicious punch in the stomach.

'How can you say that? How can you be so uncaring?' She forgot her

resolution not to get emotional. 'This isn't just about me. If Café Brazil

goes under then lots of people are going to lose their jobs.'

'And you're terribly concerned about other people's welfare, are you not?'

There was something in his tone that increased her feeling of unease.

Why did she have the sense that there were two conversations going on here? One above the surface and one below. 'Yes, actually. I think being an employer is a big responsibility. You can't just hire and fire people.

I've been very careful about not recruiting more staff until we were sure that the business could support them.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Very laudable, I'm sure. So what went wrong, Miss Thacker? If you're so careful, then why are you here? Why isn't your little business raking in the cash as we speak?'

'Our operating costs were higher than we'd estimated,' she said

honestly, frowning slightly as she caught the cynical gleam in his eyes.

'Among other things, refurbishing ten of the coffee shops cost more than

we planned. But we've addressed that and I have lots of ideas for the future.'

He watched her for a moment and the atmosphere thickened between

them. 'You're very determined,' he said softly. 'Just how desperate are

you?'

Grace stared at him, her mouth dry. What did he mean by that? 'I

care, Mr Cordeiro, if that's what you mean.' Refusing to be daunted, she

took a deep breath and gave a shaky smile. 'I still have five minutes left

to persuade you.'

She reached for her briefcase and removed the papers that she'd

stowed carefully inside. Rafael Cordeiro was a man incapable of emotion

so she had to appeal to a different part of him. He was a figures man so

she'd give him figures. 'You won't continue your investment because, so

far, you haven't seen a profit. But the cafés are doing well. Speculate to

accumulate, isn't that what they say?'

'Do they?'

She flushed and forced herself to carry on and not be put off by his

bored tone or the dangerous glint in his eyes. 'We're breaking even now

and we'll soon be making money.'

'Is that right?'

Something in the way he was looking at her caused her feeling of

unease to rocket. 'Once we start making money you'll also start making

money ...' Her voice tailed off as she saw the grim set of his mouth.

What did it take to make the man smile? 'I'm going to be completely

honest here. It's taken longer than I thought it would and the figures

aren't what they should be. The cafés are all so busy that I can't

understand why we're not already in profit.'

'Can you not?'

Faintly encouraged by his smooth tone, she decided to be completely

open. 'I probably made a few mistakes at the beginning. Our operating

costs were too high. Much higher than I planned. I paid more for things

than I should have done. Now that we're expanding, it's easier to

negotiate good deals. Give me a bit longer. You won't regret it.'

'I already regret it. I don't like the way you do business, Miss Thacker.'

Shocked, she stared at him. 'You mean, because the business has been

slow to take off? All right, I accept that, but give me a little longer. I

have loads of ideas that I want to talk to you about. I know that I can

make Café Brazil profitable.'

'But at whose expense, Miss Thacker?' His softly spoken question

made her frown.

He was a billionaire. Surely the fact that she hadn't yet given him a

financial return on his investment couldn't be that much of a problem? 'I

realise that you've given us an enormous sum of money but we will pay

it back with interest as the business grows. I'd really appreciate an

opportunity to go through the figures with you and show you our plans.

I really hope that when I've given you a full picture of where we're

going with Café Brazil, you'll agree to extend your investment.'

'Why would I do that?'

'Because you'll see that it's worth it for you.' She lifted her briefcase

onto the table. 'If you withdraw your investment then the company goes

under, it's as simple as that. And if the company goes under-'

'You lose your enviable lifestyle.'

She frowned slightly, thinking of the fourteen-hour days she'd been

putting into the business. Was that what he meant? 'I'm certainly lucky

to have a business that I love,' she said, venturing a smile and then

withdrawing it instantly as she saw the chill in his eyes.

He held out a hand. 'Show me the accounts.'

Her heart lifted. There was hope, after all. Why would he want to see

the accounts if he wasn't considering extending the loan? She hastily

opened the case, hating the fact that her hands were shaking slightly.

She was on the spot and he was trying to catch her out. It was like being

back at school again. Back in that hideous torture chamber where

everyone was just waiting for her to fail.

You're stupid, Grace Thacker. Thick. Concentrate, you brainless girl.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she wasn't in school

now and that she'd come a long way since those awful days.

And she wasn't going to fail.

Reaching into the case, she pulled out the neat pile of papers that her

father had carefully collated and handed them to him.

He flicked through the pages with lean, bronzed fingers. 'This is still

your five minutes, Miss Thacker. Keep talking.'

Didn't he need a moment to concentrate?

Envying the ease with which his eyes skimmed the figures, taking

them all in at a glance, she looked away and tried to forget he was there

as she outlined her plans for the future. She told him about the new sites

she'd found, about her plans to extend each café.

Revealed her dream.

And received no reaction from him. He picked up a pen, made a few

notes, flicked over the page and then finally lifted his gaze. 'I admire

you, Miss Thacker.'

From the ashes of disappointment she felt a warm glow of hope. 'You

do?'

'Yes. I always admire people with nerve.' He fingered the papers in

front of him and she could see the strength in his hands. 'In the

THE sunlight poured through the windows and Rafael Cordeiro watched as the colour fled from her cheeks.

Your game's up, beauty, he said to himself, wondering how she could have been so naïve as to think that he wouldn't discover what was going on in her company. Not that she hadn't been clever, because she had.

The numbers added up. Most people wouldn't have spotted what he had.

Most people didn't have his lack of faith in human nature.

At first glance her accounts appeared to reveal nothing more than a business that was slow to get off the ground. And her apparent desire to be friendly and chatty was a strategy that might well have succeeded

with a man less cynical and experienced with her sex than him. Grace Thacker came across as engaging, enthusiastic and refreshingly open.

A different man could have been impressed by her admission of disappointment that her business should have been in profit by now.

A different man might have allowed himself to believe in her innocence.

It was fortunate for him, and unfortunate for her, that his speciality

was greedy, unscrupulous women. Had that not been the case, his suspicions wouldn't have been roused and he would never have

discovered that Café Brazil wasn't what it claimed to be and that Grace

Thacker was a long way from being the caring, magnanimous employer that she pretended to be.

The fact that she had the nerve to turn up here and beg him to keep pouring money into her little scam was yet another testament to her greed and lack of conscience.

In normal circumstances he would have allocated one of his staff to

sort out the problem, but in Grace Thacker's case he'd decided that he was going to deal with her personally.

Looking at her polished nails and shiny hair, he felt a slow, burning anger build inside him. She looked pampered and secure and it was

quite obvious that she didn't know the meaning of the word hardship.

Did she have any idea how it felt to be cold and hungry? Did she know what

it felt like to try and sleep without a roof over her pretty little head?

No, of course she didn't. Why would she?

He was willing to bet that the biggest struggle in her life so far had been deciding which heels to wear with which outfit.

When she'd contacted him, requesting a meeting, his initial reaction

had been to refuse. Why waste his time on her? But then he'd decided on a different approach.

Retribution.

Grace Thacker had shattered lives and was about to shatter more.

She should be made to face the consequences of her unscrupulous

behaviour. She should be made to suffer. He hadn't decided how yet, but he was working on it.

And looking at her now, dressed in a suit that had undoubtedly cost an obscene amount of money, wearing shoes that shrieked of sex, expecting him to extend his loan in her business, he knew he'd made the right

decision.

Just how far, he wondered idly as he admired her slender ankles and the soft curve of her calf, was she prepared to go in her attempts to persuade him? It was a pity for her that he never allowed his sex life and

his business life to overlap because the chemistry between them had

been live and electric from the moment she'd caught her heel on the

walkway. She'd stooped to release her shoe and that action had allowed him a tempting vision of lacy white bra and creamy cleavage. Her silky

sheet of blonde hair had swung forward over her face and her lips had

parted in a soft gasp as she'd struggled not to lose her balance.

For a moment the anger simmering to life inside him had been overwhelmed by a surge of masculine lust so intense that it had bordered on the painful.

And then she'd noticed him. And had clutched at her briefcase like a lifebelt. That gesture alone had been sufficient to quench his libido and remind him of the reason she was here.

Money.

Aside from the shiny hair, the tempting cleavage and the long legs, Grace Thacker was no different from any other greedy woman.

Dark memories swirled up from the recesses of his mind but he pushed

them away with ruthless determination, instead turning the full force of his anger onto Grace Thacker.

No wonder her father hadn't come, he thought bitterly. They obviously hadn't wanted anything to dilute the pure, virginal image she

presented in her white shirt and her clean, shiny hair. If she'd been

standing in front of a judge and jury, they'd have cleared her of murder.

She stood, frozen to the spot, her expression suitably confused as she considered his question. 'Why would I have trouble sleeping at night?'

Her expression was innocent, her complexion as pure and English as clotted cream.

He was willing to bet she'd had a traditional English upbringing. She'd probably attended one of those starched girls' boarding-schools that taught the essential rule for surviving in life-namely how to part a man

from his wallet.

The usual technique was to marry a rich guy and then divorce and

take him to the cleaners. The three Rs of female money-making-Reel in

a wealthy guy, Rip him off and Retire.

He wondered why Grace Thacker hadn't taken that route. Perhaps she considered it too much bother.

He suppressed his natural inclination to confront her with the information in his possession and conclude the meeting as swiftly as possible.

That approach made it all a bit too easy for her, didn't it? She'd

protest a bit at first, probably bluster and deny everything until she realised just how much he knew, then she'd probably use tears or sex to persuade him not to prosecute. Either way, she'd fly back to London

without her loan and that would be the end of that.

And he didn't want it to be the end.

She was going to suffer. He wanted her to feel some of the worry and

uncertainty that she'd inflicted on others. And she was worried, he could

see it in her eyes. Despite the act, Grace Thacker was nervous.

'Why would you think I might not be able to sleep at night?' Her blue

eyes were wide. 'You mean, because I'm worrying about how we'll pay

off our debts if you call in your loan?'

No, he hadn't meant that, but he decided to go along with her. 'Are

you worried?'

'Of course.' She gave him a shy smile that faltered under his grim

stare. 'So many people are depending on me but you just have to push

that out of your head, don't you, or you'd go nuts?'

He leaned back in his chair and watched her, searching for cracks,

flaws. Any sign that she had a human streak. Any sign of remorse. But

there was nothing. Just a flicker of wariness that suggested that he was

the one who was being unreasonable. 'So you don't think about other

people?'

She frowned slightly. 'Well, it's hard not to, when you're responsible

for their income, but it's important that you don't let emotion affect

what needs to be done or everyone suffers.'

Memories, vile and deadly, slid into his brain and this time there was

no holding them back.

Suddenly he was eight years old again. Eight years old and totally alone.

Starving hungry. Frightened. Lost in the dark. Surrounded by menacing and

unfamiliar sounds that all meant danger. Freezing sweat bathed his body

and he rose to his feet and paced across to the window, struggling to free

himself from the dark tentacles of his past.

For a moment he stood still, steadying his breathing, and then he

turned to face her, nothing of his feelings showing on his face. 'So would

you describe yourself as ruthless?'

'Honestly?' The corners of her soft mouth lifted. 'No, I'm not. But I

don't think you necessarily have to be ruthless to succeed in business.'

'What about deceitful and manipulative?' Rafael kept his tone neutral.

'Are those qualities that you consider necessary for corporate

advancement?'

She stared at him. 'I don't understand where this conversation is

going.'

'No?' But she was wondering, she had to be.

And suddenly he decided on a course of action.

He was going to show her the consequences of her actions. Personally.

And, in doing so, he was going to make sure that she suffered. Really