Brazillian Affiar Part 6

"Judging by appearances again?" she asked as coolly as she could.

Appreciating the point, he smiled. "More than that, Miss Smith. A man doesn't get to be head of a firm like Callisto's without being unscrupulous."

"You're head of Langland's, and you aren't unscrupulous."

"I took longer to get to the top than Masterson. He's only been here a few years and he's already knocked out all his other compet.i.tors. You don't do that by playing straight."

Trembling, she pushed aside her plate. "You have no right to say that about him. Not unless you've got proof."

"I'm prepared to bet on my intuition. It isn't only women who have it, you know!" He speared some meat on his fork. "And while we're on the subject, I think it would be best if you didn't see him again."

"Why not? I thought you wanted me to be friendly with your compet.i.tors."

He looked surprised, as though he could not credit she was questioning his decision. "You won't learn anything from Masterson. He's too sharp."

"Are you afraid he might learn something from me?"

"Of course not," he said stiffly. "I have no doubts about your loyalty."

She warmed with pleasure at his words, though it cooled quickly as he said: "That settles it, then. If he gets in touch with you again, fob him off."

"Don't you think you're being unfair to a.s.sume he only wants to see me because I work for you?"

One eyebrow lifted. "I have got under your skin, haven't I?" His tone was equable. "I'm not denying your attractions but I hope you equally won't deny that Masterson might have another reason - apart from the usual masculine one - for wanting to see you again."

"I prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt," she said icily, and stopped as the telephone rang.

Roland's voice, warm and intimate, sounded in her ear, and she glanced at the man opposite her. Here was her chance to show him she was ent.i.tled to a life of her own.

"Why, Mr. Masterson," she said sweetly, "I was just thinking about you."

"From the way you're talking, I a.s.sume Paget's there ?" Roland's voice was low.

"Yes."

"O.K., Phil, I'll keep it short. Can you meet me for dinner tonight ?"

"What time?"

"Eight-thirty. I'll pick you up."

"I'll meet you downstairs."

"Still playing safe, eh?" He laughed and hung up and as she did the same, she was aware of Lucas looking at her angrily.

"If you arranged to see Masterson in order to annoy me, you've succeeded, Miss Smith. I told you I don't want you to meet him!"

"And I told you I won't accept your authority over my spare time. If you think I'll tell him about my work for you, then say so, and I'll resign at once."

"I'm not questioning your loyalty."

"Then don't tell me what to do with my free time! I don't tell you what to do with yours."

Lucas's expression was incredulous, and no wonder, she thought nervously, for she had never spoken to him so candidly.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I shouldn't have said that. You brought me out here and you've every right to -"

"Forget it." His voice was crisp. "You're quite right, I'm not ent.i.tled to tell you what to do in your free time."

Although the apology should have pleased her, tears unaccountably p.r.i.c.ked her eyes.

"I don't want to quarrel with you," she said huskily, "and I don't want you to think I'm going out with - with Mr. Masterson to spite you."

"Such a thought never entered my head."

"And you're not cross with me ?"

"Cross?"

The word seemed to puzzle him and, from the slight drawing together of his brows she knew he was only a.n.a.lysing her question but also his own answer to it.

"Cross isn't the right word," he said at last. "I suppose that until now I've tended to regard you as a part of my working life and it's strange to see you as" - There was another hesitation - "as a woman with her own life to lead."

"I'm glad you realise I'm not just a dictating machine!"

"I've never seen one with curves before!"

She smiled at him and the earlier mood of anger disappeared completely. While speaking, he had moved from the table and was once more sitting on the settee, his head resting against the back. Even as she watched him his eyes closed and the tension went from his face. Tenderness pierced her and she felt an intense longing to touch his mouth. Appalled, she drew back, knocking against the table as she did so. The sound alerted him and he opened his eyes and stared at her intently.

"I like your hair that way," he said slowly. "It's a most unusual colour."

"Apricot," she said, and could have bitten out her tongue as he smiled.

"Corfu honey," he corrected. "Honey varies in colour, you know, depending where the bees get their nectar. And on Corfu it's a particularly wonderful shade of amber gold."

"I rather like that," she replied with an effort at lightness. "Corfu honey sounds much more unusual than being an apricot blonde!"

"Corfu honey hair and Jersey cream skin," he said. "That describes you exactly. Plus perfect shorthand and typing and an ideal telephone manner."

"Thank you, Mr. Paget."

"Don't mention it, Miss Smith." There was no doubting his mockery. "Don't you think it would be less formal if I called you by your first name."

She was too pleased to be able to hide it. "Of course. It's Philippa."

"I know. Is that your only name ?"

"Yes. Some people call me Phil."

"I won't. It's too masculine. Philippa is just right. Prim and provocative at the same time!"

She laughed. "Your first name suits you too, Mr. Paget."

"Then you'd better use it."

She reddened. "It might be better if I didn't. When we're in London the other girls will -"

"d.a.m.n the other girls! We aren't living in the Middle Ages. Lots of secretaries call their boss by their first name."

"You aren't like the usual boss," she said drily.

"I know. I'm too autocratic and demanding." He walked over to the table and poured himself some coffee. "I suppose Masterson is the type that appeals to girls like you. I don't like him, as you know, but I can't deny his charm."

As Roland's name returned to the conversation, Lucas's good humour vanished, and irritation lingered on his face like a veil. Philippa wondered if he were jealous; and felt great pleasure at the thought.

"Don't stand there gawping!" His words shattered her mood. "Ring for someone to clear the table. I hate seeing the remains of a meal."

She rang the bell for room-service as he went into his bedroom. He did not close the door and she heard him lift his telephone. After a short pause he started talking in Portuguese, and though she could not understand a word, his tone told her he was speaking to Maya. A moment later he uttered the name, confirming her belief.

The jealousy that engulfed her was the worst she had experienced and she was filled with shame. She went into her room and made a pretence of tidying her hair. The mirror gave back her reflection; a sun-kissed blonde; tall, slim and cool. Lovely if you liked the Corfu honey type - which Lucas obviously did not. He preferred the sultry darkness of jet and almond shaped eyes.

"Philippa!" His voice jerked her back into the main room. "I'd like you to type out some figures for me."

Hardly had she sat down before he started to dictate. Her fingers flashed over the keys and once more she was part of the machinery of business. If ever she failed to measure up to his standard, she would be sc.r.a.pped without any sentiment, like any other piece of unserviceable office equipment.

CHAPTER FOUR.

For the rest of the afternoon they worked non-stop; Making more calls to England, each one of which resulted in a further spate of dictation.

She was still typing when darkness fell with its usual abruptness. Lucas switched on the lights and the warm glow made him seem younger and more eager. Or was the eagerness caused by the knowledge that he had managed to lower his prices? His answer told her she was right.

"Callisto's will never beat us now," he said triumphantly.

"I never thought you'd get your bid down as low as this. You've worked a miracle."

"I've just worked."

"And bullied and bludgeoned." She recollected his earlier conversation with Ransoms, one of their biggest suppliers. "They were so scared you'd take your business elsewhere, they would have sold you what you wanted at a loss."

"I never threatened them," he protested.

"Not in words. But it was implicit in what you said."

"You're learning quickly, Philippa. I'll make a business woman of you yet."

"Never. I couldn't ruin another man in order to make a profit for myself."

"Now you're being melodramatic." He rubbed the side of his cheek reflectively. "Profit for one man needn't spell ruin for another. If people co-operate they can all make a profit."

"And if they won't co-operate?"

"Then they're fools. And fools don't deserve success."

Reluctant to continue the argument - she knew when she was on a losing wicket - she stood up. "If you've finished work for today, I'd like to go and change."

His eyes moved over her. "What time are you meeting Masterson?"

"At eight-thirty - downstairs."

"I hope you know how to take care of yourself?"

She flushed. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm asking a question because I've a d.a.m.n good idea what he has in mind for you!"

"Stop it!" she said angrily. "I told you before that you've no right to interfere in my private life."

"While we're here, you're my responsibility."

"Nonsense! I'm not a child."

His eyes moved over her again. "You're certainly not." he murmured, "and that makes it even more of a worry!"

"Forget it," she said briefly. "I can take care of myself."

He turned away and she saw he was still frowning. Lucas's dislike of Roland did not only stem from jealousy. Intuitively he had no trust in Roily Masterson. And Roily, in a not so distant past, had been Roland... a man who had cheated and lied. Fear snaked through her. What if Lucas was right, and Roland had not learned his lesson ?

"Lucas, I -" A sharp knock on the sitting-room door cut her short, and, efficient secretary to the fore, she ran across and opened it.

Maya stood there, s.h.i.+mmering in a crystal-beaded chiffon dress that gave seductive hint of the body below. Philippa stepped back, intensely conscious of her s.h.i.+ning face and creased cotton dress.

"Still working?" the woman drawled, and smiled at Lucas. "I knew I should have rung to warn you about the time."

Lucas ran his hand through his hair. "I never realised it was so late. I've been working out a new price for Rodriguez."

"Any success ?"

"What do you think?"

Maya leaned towards him, and though she did not touch him, there was implied intimacy in the movement. "You're always successful, darling. That's part of your charm."