Rachel Lindsay - Brazillian Affair Read online

  "Did you know this man well?" His question was unexpected and she answered without evasion.

  "I was going to marry him."

  "You were sensible to break it off."

  "I didn't. He died."

  The car slowed down and stopped on a rough verge. Behind them black hills towered towards the skyline, while below lay the exquisite curve of the bay.

  "I'm sorry." His voice was low, with a note of sympathy. "Would you care to tell me about it or does it still hurt?"

  "Not any more. It was three years ago. Not long in time, yet it seems a lifetime away. We grew up together," she went on, "and I loved him for as long as I can remember."

  "Do you still?"

  She hesitated, not sure what he would say if she told him the true story of Roland. Although Lucas Paget was a man who believed in fighting for what he wanted, he had never done anything dishonest.

  "He's dead," she said harshly. "I'd rather not discuss it." Resolutely she stared through the side window. She heard the click of a cigarette case and sensed rather than saw the flame of a lighter.

  "I'll have to go and inspect the site of the new dam," her employer said conversationally. "I'll take you with me, if you like."

  "That would be marvellous."

  "It'll be even more marvellous if I can get the contract. The company that builds this dam will be in line for at least half a dozen more projects. The Government has to improve the living standard, and you can only do that by full employment."

  "Progress for Brazil with profit for yourself," she commented.

  "Is profit a dirty word to you ?"

  She was glad the darkness hid her scarlet cheeks. "I didn't mean that. I spoke without thinking."

  "That's when one often hears the truth." His voice was hard. "I'm not one of your woolly-minded idealists, I'm too practical. That's why you disapprove of me."

  "You don't know what I approve or disapprove," she retorted.

  "You'd be surprised! I know a great deal about your thoughts, Miss Smith!"

  Unexpectedly he leaned over her, so close that even in the dimness she could see the texture of his Skin. She longed to touch her fingers to his cheek, and the knowledge filled her with fear. She must be crazy to think like this. Either that, or else the magic of this city was affecting her logic.

  "It's late," she said, surprised her voice sounded so normal. "We must get back."

  He straightened and switched on the ignition. "You're right. I don't want a sleepy secretary in the morning."

  His words shattered her romantic illusions, bringing her rudely back to the reality of their position: secretary and boss.

  During the journey back he did not speak, and it was only when they entered the lobby that she herself uttered the first words. "It's been a wonderful evening, Mr. Paget. Thank you very much." She did not know whether to hold out her hand, but he was already moving away from her.

  "I'll take a final stroll," he said. "Good night, Miss Smith."

  And so his duty ends, she thought bitterly as she went up to her room; though why she should feel bitter was something she refused to analyse.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Despite her intention to regard Lucas Paget only as her employer, she nevertheless took special pains over her dress and make-up next morning, But when she entered the living-room it was empty, and she was already at her typewriter before the door of his bedroom opened. He was wearing dark slacks and a white silk shirt, and behind him she saw the unmade bed strewn with papers and glimpsed the top half of cream silk pyjamas.

  "Find out what time the next plane leaves for Brasilia," he said peremptorily. "I want to be on it." He went back in his room and when he came out again she had typed out the information for him.

  "Takes off in one hour. A ticket will be waiting for you at the airport," she said. "I've already ordered your car." She watched him fasten his cuff-links and slip on a dark jacket, turning himself once more into the efficient managing director. "It's unexpected - your having to go to Brasilia?"

  "I heard through Embassy sources that Rodriguez's been recalled to the capital. He usually goes on the mid-morning plane and I thought it would be an opportunity for me to chat to him."

  "Is that the only reason you're taking the flight?"

  "Only reason?" His tone was dry. "My dear Miss Smith, if you can't see that it's an exceptionally good reason, you'll never make a business woman." He pointed to the dictaphone on his desk. "You'll find another tape on my bedside table. You'll have enough there to keep you busy."

  "You must have been working all night."

  His smile was brief as he headed for the door, and she knew that already his thoughts were miles away from her and this room. But in this she had misjudged him, for as he reached the threshold he looked back at her.

  "I might not be back tonight. It depends. When you finish typing back the tape I suggest you do some sight-seeing."

  The door shut and Philippa remained standing by the desk. Without Lucas Paget the room seemed twice as large and twice as empty, and with a sigh she went into his bedroom and picked up the tape. The remains of his breakfast were on a tray and she touched the crumpled napkin and then withdrew her hand hastily.

  It took her the entire day to type back everything Lucas Paget had dictated. Re-reading it she decided his sleepless night had been well spent, for he had worked out a completely new way of building the dam which, she was sure, would cut the costs considerably. But would it cut them enough to make them lower than Callisto's? Carefully she rechecked the figures, delighted when she found an error that enabled her, by reworking through all the data, to cut the costs by a further quarter per cent. This was certainly a case where every little counted!

  That night Philippa had dinner in her room. She had gone down to the bar for a drink, more out of a desire to see different faces than for any other reason, but admiring stares from bold black eyes had finally forced her to withdraw. Better the loneliness of her room than having to thwart the attentions of over- zealous Latin-Americans.

  After she had eaten she went into Lucas's room again and looked at the books she had noticed on his dressing-table - economics, politics, commerce. Reluctantly she picked up a book dealing with economy in Great Britain. Hard reading, no doubt, but preferable to twiddling her thumbs. In her room again she undressed, opened the windows wide and then climbed into bed. Beyond the balcony she heard the roar of the sea. It was odd, but when one thought of the tropics one always envisaged calm seas and gently lapping waves, and it was strange to find that reality was so different.

  The monotonous beat of the water and the dullness of the book acted like a soporific, and it was barely ten o'clock when she turned off the light and closed her eyes. I must write to Mrs. Marsh, she thought sleepily. And I must buy her a present before I return.

  The glaring white sun awaked her early next morning and she decided to do as Lucas Paget had suggested and spend the day sightseeing.

  "Mr. Paget arranged for his car and chauffeur to be at your disposal," the clerk at the desk told her when she inquired the best way of viewing the city.

  Although surprised that he had had time to remember such a thing, Philippa decided against using the car and eventually took the bus that plied between the beach and the town centre. It set her down in the Avenido Rio Branco which, according to the brochure she had found in her room, had shops that equalled the elegant ones in Paris's Faubourg St. Honore. But looking at the dowdy lingerie and uninteresting vista of dresses she decided the author of the brochure preferred fiction to fact.

  It was only when she left the wide boulevards for the narrow lanes that ran behind them that she found herself in a more interesting world of colonial-style houses and exquisite but crumbling churches that recalled the days of the first Portuguese settlers. For hour after hour, unconscious of time, she wandered the city until hunger and a blistered heel forced her to take a taxi and return to the hotel.

  By the time she had finished lunch it was m
id- afternoon, and putting on a bathing costume and wrap she decided to take a swim in the hotel pool. With disappointment she saw that the pool and the gaily coloured chairs were already in the shade, the sun masked by the block of the hotel itself. Irritated at the stupid way the hotel had been built, she made for the public beach instead. It was crowded with swarthy-skinned youths playing football. The sea was too rough for bathing and all she dared do was stand on the edge and let herself be showered by the salt spray. Even so, it was refreshing, though the sun was so intense that the coolness did not last long.

  Above her in the sky there was a sudden gleam of silver, and she watched as it grew larger and became the wing of a plane. It brought Lucas Paget to mind and, wondering if there had been any word from him, she hastily collected her things and returned to the hotel.

  "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 mass of documents.

  "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 embarrass 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 amusement 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 shining 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 embarrassment 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 fashion 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 scrape it back the way you do."

  Embarrassed, 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 shiver.

  In the car she sat as far in the corner as she could and concentrated on the passing 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?"