Free The Trouble with Mojitos by Romy Sommer Page A

seep into her limbs.
    “Make that two.”
    When Juan left, she couldn’t resist teasing: “No rum and cola tonight?”
    Rik pulled a face. “I’ll be happy never to taste it again. I made a fool of myself the other night, and I apologise. I offer you my thanks for assisting me.”
    Now he sounded like a prince. She shrugged. “It’s what anyone would have done.”
    “No, not anyone.”
    “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just a sucker for trouble.” That’s what following one’s instincts tended to do for a girl. She glanced back at the bar. “So what was the special occasion you were celebrating the other night?”
    He was silent for so long she was almost sure he wasn’t going to answer.
    “It was my birthday.”
    And he’d been alone.
    Her heart squeezed tight, and the evening air filled with the sounds of voices from the bar and the breakers crashing on rocks below their deck.
    “I’m sorry,” she managed at last. She looked quickly away again. “This isn’t the sort of place I’d have thought you’d visit.” She bit her lip. She wasn’t supposed to know who he was. Wasn’t supposed to care either.
    “Oh? What sort of place do you think I belong?” he asked. The mocking tone was back.
    “You drive a Lamborghini and own a yacht. I’d have thought you’d be five star luxury all the way.”
    “I hope I haven’t disappointed you?” He was definitely mocking her.
    “Not at all. I’m done with trust fund babies. My best friend Lee and I have sworn that from now on we’re only dating men who have real jobs and earn their money the old-fashioned way.”
    Rik grinned. “Sounds dull. I’d have expected something more adventurous from you. Besides, some would say inheriting it
is
the old-fashioned way.”
    She scowled. “You know what I mean.”
    “Then you’ll be pleased to know that neither the Lamborghini nor the yacht are mine. They belong to a friend who’s kindly letting me stay in his guesthouse.”
    “Very pleased.” She gave up trying to secure the paper napkin in her lap and instead wedged it under the cutlery.
    Still didn’t mean she was going to let the setting or the man get to her head. Just because he didn’t own the bling didn’t mean he was a regular Joe with a job. She’d bet her beloved camera that, deposed or not, the former prince had a trust fund. He certainly had all the arrogance that went with it, though he didn’t look particularly arrogant right now. Sobriety suited Rik. He seemed a whole lot happier today. No, maybe not happy. There was a constant brooding darkness in his eyes, and he never truly relaxed, but at least he was smiling more today.
    Juan delivered their mojitos along with a platter of pieces of pale white meat on a bed of lettuce.
    “What’s this?” she asked.
    “It’s raw conch marinated in lime juice, a local delicacy.”
    “Aren’t conches shells?”
    “Shellfish. You’re not allergic?”
    She shook her head. “I can eat anything. Once.” She took a fortifying sip of her mojito first. Yum. Definitely better than any she’d had before. Then she stuck her fork into a piece of conch, closed her eyes and tasted.
    An explosion of flavour hit her tongue. The conch was chewy, a little like calamari, but full of subtle flavours. “Wow! It’s almost better than sex.”
    He grinned. “Then you obviously haven’t been having the right kind of sex.”
    “I said almost.”
    “You’re not sorry I brought you here?”
    No. Not sorry he’d brought her to this restaurant and not sorry she’d agreed to dinner. This was way better than room service alone in a bland hotel room. And the mojito was way better than those over-priced little bottles of wine in the minibar.
    Rik sipped his drink, his expression becoming pained. “This reminds me of something … ” He swallowed. “Oh god! It tastes just like your concierge’s hangover remedy.” He pushed the glass towards her. “Another drink I may never be able to face again.”
    Someone