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frustration. Right at this moment he would not care if Liza was the biggest thief in Christendom, if he could get her in his bed.
    There, he had admitted it. Nick scowled as he lifted the glass in his hand to his mouth again and drained the whisky from it then slammed it down on a convenient table.
    Now, get over it…he told himself and walked out of the house, his aristocratic features as hard as granite and his heavy-lidded eyes equally as stony as he slid into the waiting car.
    Three hours later, rested and showered, Liza walked back into her bedroom and surveyed the clothes she had brought with her. Excitement and anticipation bubbled in her veins like the finest champagne. She tried to keep a lid on her emotions, but it was difficult, for the first time in years, she was really looking forward to going out with a man. She fantasised in her mind how the night would progress—a candlelit meal somewhere romantic, with a deep conversation verging on the intimate, a few gentle caresses and at evening’s end perhaps a kiss, or even more…
    She shivered delectably, and took a fourth outfit from the wardrobe. Nick was attracted to her, she knew it, and for once she allowed herself to think of a relationship with a man—not just any man, but Nick Menendez.
    He had explained why he had yelled at her at sixteen, it was simply because of her age, and she could understand that even though she did not agree with his chauvinistic attitude. But now he saw her as a mature, sophisticatedwoman, and he was interested. She had seen it in his eyes, in his touch, and this time she was going to take the chance, and to pot with the consequences. Who knew, she thought optimistically, this could be the start of something big…?
    Liza finally settled on a sleeveless, figure-hugging black jersey-silk dress. She slipped it over her shoulders; the bodice crossed over between her breasts and tied around her narrow waist, the wrap-around skirt ending a couple of inches above her knees. But, mindful the nights could be chilly, she added a pashmina shawl in silver-grey.
    She left her long hair loose and straight, and with the addition of one more coat of lip-gloss she was ready. She stood back from the mirror. Not bad, she thought, and slipped her feet into high-heeled sandals. She was reaching for her clutch bag when the telephone rang.
    It was Reception to say a Niculoso Menendez had arrived. Her heart did a funny little jig in her chest, and, taking a deep breath, she closed the door behind her and crossed to the elevator, her blue eyes sparkling with excited anticipation at the evening ahead.
    Liza walked out of the elevator, and saw him immediately. He was leaning against the reception desk, laughing at something the attractive receptionist had said to him. To her surprise she felt a swift stab of something very like jealousy, and just as quickly a stomach-curling pleasure as he turned and saw her.
    His firm lips parted over gleaming white teeth in a slow, sensual smile. Liza had thought he looked great in jeans, but, dressed with unexpected severity in a superbly tailored dark suit with a white shirt and plain dark tie, the man possessed a lethal, predatory aura, a supreme confidence in his masculinity that made every fine hair on her skin stand erect.
    She couldn’t help it; she watched with total fascination as his big, powerfully muscled body moved towards her with a lithe arrogance that made her pulse race with excitement.
    He stopped an arm’s length away, and Liza swallowed hard. So the man was incredibly handsome, sinfully sexy, and her insides felt as if they were dissolving but it was only a chemical reaction, just lust, she told herself, plain and simple. She was no longer the adoring child who hung on to his every word, but a successful career woman. Involuntarily Liza straightened her shoulders, and stood a little taller. She could handle a date with Nick, and without having a fit of the vapours, she