Brazillian Affiar Part 3

"We were just sending someone to look for you," one of the clerks said. "Mr. Paget has been back an hour."

Not even bothering to go into her room to tidy, she entered the living-room and found him sitting on the settee surrounded by the inevitable ma.s.s of doc.u.ments.

"I didn't realise you'd be back so early," she apologised.

"Next time you go out leave word with the clerk where you are. It didn't occur to me to search for you among the beach lizards."

His words made her conscious that she was wearing minute shorts that exposed the long line of her legs, and hastily she made for her room. "I'll slip on a dress."

"I don't mind you working like that. It gives me a chance to admire your tan."

Convinced he was trying to embarra.s.s her, she moved away from her bedroom door. "I tan easily," she said.

"So I've noticed. Does that mean you're a bottle blonde?"

"Certainly not!" She sat down by the desk and picked up her notebook. "I'm ready when you are."

Silently he surveyed her, his arms folded across his chest. "Relax, Miss Smith. I'm too exhausted to work."

"I never thought I'd hear you say such a thing."

"There's always a first time. Perhaps it's being in the tropics." He stood up and sauntered over to the window to look out at the crowds still on the beach. "We've got to lower our costs," he murmured, half to himself. "Otherwise we'll lose the contract."

"Is that what the Minister said? I suppose you did manage to talk to him on the plane. ?"

"Yes. He's an intelligent man and absolutely determined to push through his building projects. The dam is only one of the first - that's why we've got to get it." He banged his hand on the side of the window frame. "It could be the beginning of ten years' work here. I'm not going to lose it because we're overpriced."

"We have every single price specification with us. Do you want me to get them for you?"

"Not now. I need a clear head before I start working on figures. I'll do it first thing in the morning." He stifled a yawn. "I was up with Rodriguez until nearly four a.m. and it'll be another late night tonight."

He turned and looked at her, she was conscious of the low neckline of her sun-top. Imperceptibly she tried to sit up straight, stopped as she saw a tell-tale glitter of amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes.

"That reminds me, Miss Smith, I'd like you to come with me tonight as well. Rodriguez is giving a party for all the contractors, and you might learn a tiling or two."

"About parties?"

"About the contractors! Particularly Masterson at Callisto's. Tongues always loosen when champagne flows, so circulate and keep your ears open."

"I'm sure I won't be able to learn a thing," she said in a moment of panic. "Why should anyone talk to me?"

"Because men love showing off to a beautiful woman."

The rest of Philippa's protest died beneath the compliment. Lucas Paget had an ironic wit and she never knew when he was being serious. But he was looking at her so gravely she knew he had not been joking.

"You are, you know," he stated. "I never realised it until we came out here."

"That's because you regard everyone around you as part of the office equipment."

He smiled, and she was annoyed at the effect it had on her. "You needn't deny it, Mr. Paget, you know it's true."

"I had no intention of denying it. But think of the complications it would cause if I started noticing the girls who work for me. Don't forget my policy is 'love 'em and leave 'em.' I wouldn't want it to become 'love 'em and let them leave we'!"

"One day you'll come a real cropper," she snapped.

"Never."

There was a bleak look on his face that made her wonder if this had not already happened to him. It could also be the reason for his frequent love affairs. She stood up and made for the safety of her room.

"We'll be leaving at eight," he called, "You'd better start getting dressed."

"I don't need two hours."

"You'll be the first woman who doesn't."

Determined to prove him wrong, Philippa returned to the living-room fifteen minutes before the appointed time. The door to Lucas's bedroom was closed, but behind it she heard the opening and slamming of drawers and a low imprecation that made her smile.

Reluctant to crease her skirt, she stood by the window, her reflection s.h.i.+ning back at her. The sea-green chiffon dress reflected the colour of her eyes and the gold-encrusted embroidery on the low- cut bodice echoed the highlights of her apricot blonde hair. She wore it loosely tonight, and the unaccustomed touch of it on her shoulders made her feel unusually feminine. She had hesitated a long time before deciding what to wear, veering between this dress and a less-revealing one. Her choice had finally been made from a determination not to give in to the embarra.s.sment Lucas Paget aroused in her. If she went on acting like an infatuated schoolgirl every time he looked at her, she would not be able to go on working for him.

Now, seeing herself mirrored in the window, she pulled at her shoulder-strap. But the neckline remained low, showing more than a hint of rounded, creamy breast. Blow the man. She was merely in fas.h.i.+on and if he didn't like it, it was just too bad!

Promptly at eight o'clock he came into the living- room. It was the first occasion she had seen him in tropical dress, and the white jacket emphasised the richness of his hair and made him look taller and broader she had realised. It was no wonder that women fell for him. He had an air of not caring that would make them long to conquer him.

"Well, well," he drawled, stopping directly in front of her. "Cinderella is ready for the ball!" His eyes moved from her face to her feet and back again. "You look different."

"It's my dress. Do you - do you think it's too low?" He took so long to answer that she regretted the question.

"No, I don't," he said at last. "You have a perfect figure and you've every right to show it off. If you were married it might be different."

"What difference would that make?"

"Your husband might prefer you to keep your charms for him."

She tossed her head. "Are you saying that because I'm single I should show my wares to the customer!"

"A little crudely put," he said calmly, "but the gist of it is correct." She gave an exclamation of annoyance and he laughed. "I'm only teasing you, Miss Smith. Relax. You look beautiful and innocent and perfectly decorous. Incidentally, I like the way you're wearing your hair. You should always keep it loose."

"It gets in the way when I'm typing."

"Nonsense. It's a wonderful colour and you shouldn't sc.r.a.pe it back the way you do."

Embarra.s.sed, she sidestepped past him and picked up her jacket and bag. "You said you'd ordered the car for eight."

"So I did."

He opened the door for her and followed her along the corridor. When they reached the elevator his hand came beneath her elbow and guided her in, remaining there as they crossed the lobby to the car. She was painfully aware of his touch and though the night was warm, could not stop a s.h.i.+ver.

In the car she sat as far in the corner as she could and concentrated on the pa.s.sing scene. Speedily they left the Copacabana beach and began to climb towards the exclusive suburb of Santa Teresa. As they rounded a bend another car shot towards them. The chauffeur slammed on his brakes and she was flung across the seat against Lucas Paget. He caught her tight and held her to steady her.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, and waited for him to let her go. But his grip remained firm and he bent his head, his breath warm on her cheek.

"I've been waiting for you to throw yourself at me!" There was laughter in his voice. "But I was hoping you wouldn't need a car ride to encourage you."

"I'd need something to encourage me," she retorted. "The first lesson I was taught at college was never to throw myself at the boss."

"I'm not your boss now. It's after office hours."

She started to answer him and then stopped. Why was he flirting with her ? The question was intriguing: the answer even more so, and she felt herself grow hot with fear and excitement.

Suddenly he let her go. "Forgive me. I've no right to tease you any more. You're a long way from home and you're my responsibility."

"I'm not a child."

"Not in years, perhaps, but you are in experience."

Mortified, she slid away from him, but again he did the unexpected and caught hold of her hand. "Don't be annoyed. I was paying you a compliment."

"By saying I'm inexperienced ?"

"Of course. In these days it's not difficult to get the kind of experience I was talking about." He squeezed her hand and then let it go. "Your innocence is part of your charm."

"You don't seem to want it in the women you choose!" The words were out before she could retract them, and she turned crimson. "Oh Lord, I don't know why I said such a thing."

"Because it's true! The reason I avoid innocence is because it scares me."

"Scares you?"

"Sure. Innocent girls want marriage - and I don't."

"I gathered that," she said dryly. "But won't you get fed up going from one woman to another?"

"That's the vain hope of all women when they see a happy bachelor!" He leaned towards the chauffeur. "There's a line of traffic ahead. Are they all heading for the reception?" The man nodded and Lucas Paget gave an exclamation. "This looks like being some party!"

Slowly they inched their way forward and finally swung into a circular courtyard, stopping in front of a large mansion. Lights streamed from every window, and the faint beat of music echoed in the air. As she got out of the car Philippa saw the landscaped gardens; the ornamental lake fringed with fairy- lights and the trees whose leaves showed black against the sky.

Not pausing to look at his magnificent surroundings, Lucas Paget entered the house, and she followed quickly. These sort of parties meant nothing to him, since most of his social life was spent at similar ones. Yet she guessed he did it more for business reasons than for pleasure.

Rodriguez greeted them at the door of the salon, a dark-jowled, stocky man with soft-looking brown eyes that belied the brutal strength of his handclasp. "I am glad you were able to get here," he said in heavily accented English. "And this, I take it, is Senhora Paget?"

"My secretary," Lucas corrected.

"So?'' There was a look in the brown eyes that made Philippa redden, but nothing further was said and Rodriguez waved his arm behind him. "Please go inside. I will join you later when all my guests have arrived."

As they moved forward a plump, sallow-faced woman in her late twenties came towards them. "Lucas! How good to see you again. Emmanuel didn't tell me until tonight that you were here." Philippa sensed rather than saw Lucas Paget's surprise.

"Isabella! I'd no idea you were Senhora Rodriguez. You were still at school when I stayed with your family in Portugal."

"The years pa.s.s quickly." The girl touched a scarlet-tipped hand to her heavy collar of emeralds and diamonds. "Are you married yet?"

"No."

There was an undercurrent in his voice that told Philippa the woman's question had been prompted by more than idle curiosity; a feeling which became fact as the girl moved closer to Lucas and said softly: "Maya will be interested to know you are still free."

Colour seeped into his face, though his voice remained "Maya? It's a long time since I saw her. How is she?"

"Very well. You know she's in Rio?"

"No!" It was a sharp sound, though when he continued speaking, his voice was normal. "I've never met her husband. You must introduce me."

"I can't." Isabella's slim hand was taut against her throat. "He died three months ago."

This time Lucas made no effort to hide his shock. "I'd no idea... I never realised."

"I think Maya was afraid to get in touch with you."

"Then we must remedy that at once." Manoel Rodriguez joined the conversation. "If you're an old friend of Maya's it will be good for her to see you again. Where is she, my dear? I'll go and find her."

"There's no need."

Isabella looked beyond his shoulder and, following the glance, Philippa saw a tall, black-haired woman gliding towards them. She had seen many beautiful women since living in London, but never one with such animal magnetism. It transcended the obvious beauty of deep blue eyes, full mouth and creamy skin, and gave her a sensuality that not even the high-necked flowing chiffon dress she wore could disguise. Beside her, every other woman looked dull, and every man alive.

"Lucas!" The woman's voice, soft and sultry, matched her appearance. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you come in." The dark eyes rested on Philippa. "Is this your wife ?"

"My secretary. I'm not married." He paused. "I was sorry to hear about your husband."

Maya smiled sadly though her eyes remained bright. "There's no need for me to tell you how I feel about it. But at least I gave Luis some happiness before he died." She put her hand on Lucas's arm. "Let us sit down somewhere and talk."

Lucas glanced at Philippa and she gave him a cool smile. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Paget. I'll be perfectly all right on my own."

The couple moved away, and Philippa saw Isabella smile at her husband.

"It would be wonderful if they came together again."

"Don't start matchmaking so soon. Maya is still in mourning."

"If she hadn't had that stupid quarrel with Lucas, she'd never have married Luis."

Philippa made a move to go, unwilling to hear any more of the conversation, but Isabella saw the gesture and gave an apologetic murmur. "Forgive me talking like this, Miss Smith, but I know Lucas so well that-"

"I understand, senhora."

"Tell me, is it true he is completely unattached?"

"That's what he said," Philippa said stiffly, and was annoyed with herself for sounding so British.

But her hostess did not appear to notice the tone and sighed happily. "Then he must still be in love with Maya. How romantic!"

"If you'll excuse me," Philippa said quickly, "I'd like to go outside for some fresh air."