Fists clenched, Santiago charged into his office. He almost slammed the door, but at the last minute contained his irritation enough to close it quietly. On the walk across the carpet, he muttered a stream of curses in Spanish and English and swiveled his head from side to side to loosen the tight muscles in his neck.

He was hard. Hard enough to drive a hole in the wall. His obsession for this woman had reached peak levels since he moved to South Beach. It was one thing to lust after her from Buenos Aires, quite another to see her perky bottom and pretty legs every single workday. And that voice. Her husky cries still resonated in his ears like the aftermath of crashing cymbals.

The tension, excitement, and general chaos of the restaurant business was not for the faint of heart, but he loved his job, usually. He’d long wanted to take over the North American operations because this portfolio was bigger and more complex than the one he used to run in South America.

He’d welcomed the challenge and opportunity to prove himself and gladly moved to the States from Argentina when he accepted the post. He’d also temporarily agreed to stay in the Sol suite in the hotel upstairs from the restaurant—both of which were named Patagonia—until he found his own place. Working with Abena, however, was not something he gladly took on. Her presence stirred anger inside of him, while some incomprehensible need kept him circling—a glutton for her verbal barbs and irritated glances.

Santiago sank into the black leather chair and stared at the neat pile of papers on his glass desk. The entire room was an ode to minimalist furniture and modern design.

He had plenty of work to do, but Abena stayed on his mind. As he smoothed a frustrated hand down his jaw, he acknowledged the reason was because of the abrupt way she’d cut him off. He hadn’t been finished with Abena. He’d only just begun.

She hadn’t simply cut him off. She wound up engaged mere months later, making it clear the moments they spent together in Argentina had been nothing but a placeholder, while another man waited in the wings.

So, while he doubted she’d faked that orgasm or pretended interest in their conversations, she’d clearly moved on easily, quickly, and without any hesitation.

A tap sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, Abena entered, and his shoulders immediately tensed as he watched her.

Ay Dios, she was stunning. Regal, with delicate features enhanced by a full nose and full lips. She wasn’t particularly tall, but her body filled out around her breasts and hips. Her blemish-free complexion was a deep, dark chocolate, edging toward ebony, and her matching dark eyes hid as much as they revealed.

Her hair was cut extremely short so it lay in fine strands on her head. She was sexy, but appeared innocent at the same time, with an air that spoke of her competence and intelligence. Her prominent role in Esteban’s personal and business life proved how invaluable her skills were.

“You wanted an update on the Esposito event. Here is the final menu and all related information.” The scent of citrus floated over with her as she dropped several stapled sheets to his desk. The fresh fragrance was light, lemony, and gut-wrenchingly familiar.

“Have a seat. I may have questions.” Santiago picked up the pages.

Abena dropped her hands to her hips. “I have a lot of work—”

“Have a fucking seat!”

They glared at each other for tense seconds. Finally, mouth set in a mutinous line, she sat down and gave him the pleasure of watching her cross one dark, velvety leg over the other. Like the rest of her, her legs were amazing to view. Smooth, sturdy, and well-shaped, they caught the eye and made him salivate the way any well-plated meal would.

Santiago focused on the information in his hand. The Esposito event appeared to be right on schedule and organized down to the last detail, but he expected no less from Abena and the staff at La Cocina Patagonia. As the first restaurant Esteban opened in the United States, its success had propelled him onto the world stage as a brilliant restaurateur.

The planned dinner was made up of five courses, beginning with puchero, a hearty vegetable stew typically reserved for the winter menu, but the pop star specifically requested it and the executive chef happily obliged. The meal ended with guests having a choice of flan or Patagonia’s popular menu item—chocolate mousse cake served with Venezuelan gelato. Steak and lobster were the stars of the show and would be presented as the fourth course. Plans had been made to fly in cleaned and steamed lobsters from Maine the same day.

“Sonia has already given you the wine pairings?” Santiago asked.

“Last page.”

He flipped to the end and perused the contents. “What are the plans for publicity?”

“The PR department has already been in touch with their media contacts so we can maximize having Martina rent out the entire restaurant. She and her team have also promised to show us lots of love on Instagram and Twitter.”

Abena had lived in the United States since a teenager, but because of her Ghanaian origin, spoke English with a different accent from Americans. Words ending in er sounded more like they ended in ah, and the sound of her voice carried soft, melodious notes that filled his ears and caused his pulse to beat a little faster.

His gaze flicked over her burgundy pencil skirt to her perfect breasts beneath the silk blouse before finding its way back up to her face. Her cold eyes didn’t hide how much she detested him looking at her that way.

“I don’t see a firm guest count in the paperwork. What have her people said?”

“They’ll have the final number to us before the end of the week, but…”

As she gave him the details, Santiago couldn’t stop staring, something he had not been able to do from the very first moment they met over two years ago in Buenos Aires. He’d done what he always did when he met an attractive woman. He flirted. He complimented. But instead of bedding her, he found he simply enjoyed her company and their conversations. It took two more trips south, including her extended stay of two weeks where they worked together on various projects, before he was able to charm his way under her skirt.

He’d promised her more to come, but an unexpected trip to Uruguay forced him to cancel his plan of seduction. She was gone by the time he returned. To be honest, he hadn’t called. Work and the long distance justified the lack of follow-up, but he didn’t forget her. In October of the same year, he finagled a trip north and late one evening, after most of the staff was gone, he cornered her in her office with a well-rehearsed speech filled with words of regret. But she surprised him with a cool reception and a diamond the size of a fish head on her left hand.

He’d never been so enraged in his life. He’d yelled at her, called her a liar and a player—the type of behavior he despised more than anything. July to October was only three months. Three goddamn months and she was already engaged?

“Is there anything else?” Abena asked.

Santiago set the papers on the desk. “Do you have a problem working for me?”

“I don’t work for you. I work for Esteban.”

“Esteban’s not here.”

“Doesn’t change anything.” She took a deep, annoyed breath. “I have no problem working with you, Santiago. I learned a long time ago I can tolerate anything.”

He smirked at the none-too-subtle dig. “Bueno. In that case, I need your assistance sending a gift to a female friend of mine.”

There was not a flicker of emotion in her eyes or on her face. He loved and hated her ability to keep a stoic expression in the midst of turmoil. She stayed calm, and that type of personality was indispensable in a business like theirs where chaos could come out of any corner at any time, but annoying during day-to-day contact. He couldn’t seem to ruffle her at all, to evoke a response. Not even a decent display of anger.

“Perhaps you could give a few suggestions to Crystal on where I could get some lovely flowers and a nice piece of jewelry for my female friend.” Her nostrils flared ever so slightly. “Crystal’s rather new to the Miami area and learning the ropes here, so I don’t want to throw too much at her at once.”

“I’ll send her a list of contacts I’ve used for Esteban in the past. Is there anything else?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Wonderful. Now I can get back to work.” She rose from the chair.

“Why did you lie to me?” He didn’t have to go into details. From her expression she understood he was talking about what happened between them two years ago.

She looked coolly down at him. “I didn’t lie to you.”

Santiago gritted his teeth. “I would call it a lie by omission, but all right—why didn’t I learn about your fiancé until I arrived here?”

“I told you why.”

“Tell me again.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Santiago didn’t move, waiting for the answer, jaw growing rigid enough to crack a molar under the strain of impatience.

“I didn’t know you expected anything,” she said. “I didn’t hear from you. We lived on different continents.”

“So though you were seeing Dr. Appiah, you saw nothing wrong with letting me put my tongue between your legs?”

“Do you think you could not talk like that to me?”

“No.”

“Fine. Weren’t you seeing other women?”

“Not at the time.”

“Liar,” she hissed, a spark of rage lighting her eyes. Finally, an emotional response. “You don’t believe in monogamy. That much I remember.”

He’d shared his philosophy on relationships and marriage during one of their late-night conversations in the office, before he’d lifted her onto his desk and done what he’d wanted to do to her for weeks. Based on his own observations, marriage meant very little to the average person. The satisfaction of having a job one enjoyed and the success of achieving goals in one’s career far surpassed any limited pleasure that came from pledging one’s life to another.

Santiago rose slowly to his feet, and her gaze followed his movement. “And what about you? Do you believe in monogamy? It would seem you don’t, since you saw nothing wrong with allowing me to take such liberties with you while you were in a serious relationship with the good doctor.”

“I never said I was in a serious relationship, but what does it matter, Santiago? It’s in the past.”

“I want to know. I want to know the truth, Abena. It’s important to me.”

Their relationship ended before it started. He needed to know why. It gnawed at him. For the first time in a long time, he wanted something he couldn’t have. No amount of hard work or determination could sway the odds or bring her back to him. If the regret didn’t eat him alive, then jealousy of her fiancé certainly would.

“You want to know the truth? I’ll tell you. Marc and I used to be a couple. We took a break, for personal reasons that are none of your business.”

“A break?” he repeated, as if he’d never heard of anything so preposterous.

“Yes, a break. Then one day, we ran into each other.”

“After you and I…”

“Yes, after the night in your office.” She took a quivering breath and her lips firmed. “He told me he missed me, and I realized I missed him, too. We went to dinner, and…” She swallowed. “He told me he wanted to try again. We started dating again, and you—you were in Buenos Aires. Or Montevideo, or wherever work had taken you.” Abena clasped her hands in front of her. “He asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“Almost two years ago.”

“He’s been busy and I’ve been busy, but believe me, we’re getting married.”

She’d given him an explanation, and it still wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t let go of the resentment in the pit of his stomach.

“Will I get an invitation to the wedding?”

“Only if hell freezes over.”

“Then I guess I’ll pray for snow.”

She glared at him. “Why do you care, Santiago?”

“No one likes to be made a fool of.”

Two years ago he’d shown up in Miami with big plans. He’d wanted to sweep her up in his arms before she could get a word out, ready to see if they could work, despite the distance. He was ready to make a commitment to a woman—one who obviously didn’t give him much thought.

“I never made a fool out of you. Marc and I were—are—a better fit.”

“You’re so certain?”

“I’m wearing his ring.”

Santiago gritted his teeth. “Yes, you are. It just seems strange, that’s all.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What seems strange?”

Santiago sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms. “When my sister got engaged, she couldn’t wait to pick a date. Of course, she’s not as busy as you are.”

“No two women are the same.”

“No, they aren’t.” He boldly flicked his gaze over her. He’d never met a woman like Abena, or been so consumed with the memory of their moments together. She appeared cool and calm on the outside, but he knew different. He knew her throaty laugh when he told a joke. Her sweet smile and gentle touch as she stroked his face remained emblazoned in his memory. Her hoarse cries as he made her come all over his tongue.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave now,” she said, hard and loud. As if she knew where his thoughts had wandered to.

Santiago reclaimed his chair. “You may leave. Don’t forget to send Crystal those contacts. Copy me on the email.”

He dismissed her by turning his attention to a contract on his desk. As she walked across the room, he lifted his gaze to her ramrod-straight back, and then lower, zeroing in on the way the skirt fit over her firm bottom.

One fist clenched on the desktop as she closed the door behind her.

If he could taste her again, one last time, surely that would alleviate the constant craving that didn’t seem to leave him. No matter how much he wished it would.