The Latin Affair Page 3

  ‘Stop right there.’ It sliced across her tumbling speech like an ice axe. ‘I’m not accusing anyone of anything. Yet.’

  Just that single word brought Nicky to a halt. She looked at her hand, gripping the telephone convulsively, and saw that she was shaking. Justified indignation, she assured herself.

  But it did not feel like justified indignation. It felt as if she was a schoolgirl in a tantrum, not a serious professional dealing with an awkward client. Nicky breathed deeply.

  She said, ‘You’d better take this up with Mr de Vries.’

  ‘As you may recall,’ Esteban Tremain said blandly, ‘that was exactly what I wanted to do in the first place.’

  Nicky could not take any more. ‘I’ll tell him to call you as soon as I can catch him,’ she said curtly.

  And flung the phone down before she screamed.

  This time he did not call back.

  It had made her late, of course. She had promised Ben she would be there at twelve-fifteen at the latest, before the little bistro filled up with the lunchtime trade. Ben hated to be crowded. Just as he hated to wait. Impatience ran in the family. Nicky gathered up her coat and bag with clumsy fingers. Caroline, having seen the phone call and its effect, wandered in.

  ‘Tremain again, I take it. That man thinks he only has to crook his little finger.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Have lunch,’ said Nicky, scribbling furiously on Martin’s notepad, just in case he came back during the lunch break.

  Caroline was intrigued. ‘A date?’

  Nicky tore off the note she had penned and stuck it over the top of Martin’s phone where he could not miss it, no matter how hard he tried. She looked up.

  ‘What price respect for personal privacy?’ she asked resignedly.

  ‘Never heard of it,’ Caroline said with a grin. Nicky bared her teeth and dived past her.

  ‘What will I do if Martin calls?’ Caroline yelled after her.

  ‘Tell him everything,’ Nicky called back. ‘It’s all in the note. Tell him I’ll deal with it if he wants. But not before lunch.’

  She flung herself at the showroom door. Caroline followed her, grinning.

  ‘And what if the frustrated client turns up in person?’

  A wicked light invaded Nicky’s eyes.

  ‘Tell Mr Tremain he’ll have to wait. I’m lunching with a man who won’t.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  HER brother was waiting outside the bistro, lost in thought Nicky broke into a run, calling his name. Ben looked up. He surged towards her, cleaving his way through the lunchtime crowd, and flung his arms wide.

  It was an old joke. But Nicky felt oddly weepy as she ran full-tilt into them. Ben swung her off her feet with a rebel yell. Even on a rainy autumn street, dense with lunchtime crowds, heads turned; people smiled. He was so handsome, so full of life. He threw her into the air, looking up at her with a devilish grin.

  ‘Put me down,’ gasped Nicky. She was breathless, between laughter and unaccountable tears.

  Ben only noticed the laughter. He returned her to the pavement and held her at arm’s length, surveying her appreciatively.

  ‘You look great,’ he said. ‘Even if you’re late.’

  ‘I know. I know,’ she said placatingly. ‘Sorry, I hit a natural disaster. Let’s eat.’

  The waiter showed them to the small corner table for which Nicky had managed to wrest a reservation out of the management. He brought them water and menus and a carafe of wine while Nicky regaled Ben with the account of her battles with the difficult client.

  It entertained him hugely.

  ‘Don’t know about a natural disaster. It sounds to me as if you’ve met your match,’ he said when she finished.

  Nicky bridled. ‘Oh, no, I haven’t. He just—took me by surprise, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s the only way,’ murmured Ben teasingly.

  Nicky sent him a look that would have crushed him if he had been anyone but her brother. He laughed.

  ‘It’s good for you,’ he said hardily. ‘You’ve been getting downright bossy.’

  Nicky laughed. They both knew what he meant.

  Ben was twenty-eight to her twenty-six but sometimes she felt as if he was still a teenager. He had been in London for three years, living a rollercoaster life. One day he was living in the lap of luxury with an old mate and earning a fortune. The next, he was standing on Nicky’s doorstep at three in the morning without even the wherewithal to pay the taxi that had brought him.

  Nicky always paid the cab, gave him a bed for the night and a loan to tide him over. It never took long. Normally Ben was on his way up again within a week.

  He repaid her scrupulously and, as often as not, took her somewhere wildly expensive to celebrate the revival of his fortunes. And then she would not see him again until there was something else to celebrate or he was back at the bottom of the ride again. In fact Nicky had been wondering ever since he rang which it was this time.

  But she knew him too well to ask a direct question. Instead, she let him pour wine for them both.

  ‘You know, sometimes I feel like a changeling,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘You?’ Ben paused, the carafe poised over his glass. He looked across at her in unfeigned surprise. ‘But you’re the only sensible one in the family.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘You mean the parents are rogues and vagabonds and I’m a financial disaster,’ he interpreted.

  Nicky shook her head.

  ‘No. I mean you’re relaxed. Free. You don’t have to plan everything.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘So you’re a planner. Somebody has to be.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘The parents didn’t do so well without you running the itinerary, did they?’

  Nicky was startled into a little crow of laughter. When she’d moved to England eight years ago, her parents had announced that now, at last, they were going to sail round the world. But between one thing and another they had not quite set out yet.

  Ben leaned across and patted her hand.

  ‘So don’t knock yourself just because you have some common sense.’ His expression darkened. ‘I wish to God I’d been as sensible.’

  Nicky was concerned. ‘Problems? Can I—?’

  But he shook his head decisively. ‘No. I can’t keep touching you every time I’m short. Anyway, I’ve got something to keep me going while I sort myself out.’

  Nicky did not argue. She knew his pride. So she just said, ‘What do you think you’ll do?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Winter’s coming. I’m tempted to go south, see if I can get some sailing. There’s bound to be a gin palace looking for a crew somewhere.’

  Nicky could not repress her sudden shudder. Ben raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

  ‘You mean a boat like the Calico Jane?’

  Ben grinned. ‘Hardly. Showiest boat in the Caribbean. Too many electronics for me. What made you think of her?’

  She shrugged, regretting her unwary question.

  But the name had awakened a forgotten mystery and Ben was not going to let it go.

  ‘Was she the one, then? When you went moonlighting?’ He laughed reminiscently. ‘God, Mum was furious.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ Nicky said repressively.

  The summer she was sixteen. It could have been yesterday.

  Ben was intrigued. ‘What did happen? I never knew.’

  Nicky shrugged again, not answering. She found that Ben was looking at her in sudden speculation.

  ‘You know, back then you were a babe to die for.’

  That was more or less what they had said on board Calico Jane. Nicky could feel the colour leave her face. Fortunately, Ben was too taken up with his sudden memories to notice.

  ‘My friends were always on at me to bring you to parties.’ He grinned, remembering. ‘It used to drive me mad.’ He looked at her, shaking his head sorrowfully. ‘Who would have thought you’d turn into a wage slave? You were born to be a party g
irl.’

  In spite of herself, Nicky choked. ‘I have a living to earn,’ she pointed out drily.

  Ben put his head on one side and smiled the charming smile that had girlfriends falling over themselves to share his bed and do his laundry. ‘You can earn a living and still have some fun, you know.’

  ‘I do. It’s just that your idea of fun and mine is different.’

  Ben flung up his hands.

  ‘I give in. You will live and die a businesswoman. And the wildest day of your week will be the girls night out.’

  Since Ben had met all her friends and, indeed, made a spirited attempt to lure at least one of them into his sex and laundry net, Nicky did not take this slight too seriously.

  ‘I want wild, I’ll call my brother,’ she said tartly.

  And that, for some reason, silenced Ben.

  Their food came. Slowly they eased back into their normal easy gossip about family and friends and her despised job.

  ‘What’s Martin going to say when he finds you’ve savaged one of his customers this morning?’ Ben teased.

  Nicky pulled a face. ‘Any savaging that took place was in the other direction. You should have heard the way that man called me a “blonde”.’

  Ben laughed aloud. ‘But you are a blonde. And gorgeous with it.’

  ‘Not in the way he meant it,’ said Nicky, ungrateful for the compliment. ‘He made it sound as if all blondes are empty-headed nymphomaniacs.’

  Ben waved his fork at her. ‘And too ready to go to war. All you needed to do was sweet-talk him a little. The man would be eating out of your hand by now.’

  ‘What a horrible thought,’ Nicky retorted. ‘Esteban Tremain is not the sort of man you sweet-talk lightly.’

  The effect on Ben was electric. He sat bolt upright, his eyes narrowing. ‘What?’

  Nicky was faintly surprised. She amplified, If I have to butter up some man, at least let it be someone I can like.’

  Ben ignored that. ‘Who did you say?’

  ‘Esteban Tremain,’ said Nicky, puzzled. ‘Do you know him?’

  That commanding voice had nothing in common with her erratic brother. She could not imagine how they could have met

  ‘I’ve heard of him,’ said Ben, suddenly grim.

  ‘And you don’t like what you’ve heard,’ Nicky interpreted.

  It did not surprise her. Ben was easygoing to a fault but he would not take kindly to Tremain’s habit of ordering everyone around. He was like his sister in that, at least.

  ‘I’ve never met the man,’ he said curtly. ‘But—’ He broke off, looking disturbed.

  Nicky was intrigued. Not much worried her casual brother.

  ‘But—?’ she prompted.

  He still hesitated, clearly torn.

  At last he said, ‘He’s an ugly customer, from what I’ve heard. Steer clear of him.’ He sounded serious.

  Nicky was touched. She reached across the table and covered the back of his hand reassuringly.

  ‘Don’t worry. He’s Martin’s client Martin can deal with him.’ But she could not resist adding naughtily, ‘So cancel the advice on sweet-talking him, then?’

  Ben’s frown disappeared in a great shout of laughter.

  ‘Sharp,’ he said when he could speak. ‘Very sharp.’

  The beep of Nicky’s mobile phone interrupted them. She pulled it out of her capacious bag and flicked the switch.

  ‘Hello?’

  It was Caroline. ‘Told you,’ she said smugly. ‘He’s here. He virtually went through the broom cupboard looking for Martin.’

  Nicky sniffed. ‘Well, at least now he knows I was telling the truth about Martin being out of the office. Did you call him? When will he be back?’

  ‘Not this evening,’ said Caroline with gloomy satisfaction. ‘Better get back here before Tremain starts throwing things.’

  Nicky looked at Ben apologetically. He nodded.

  ‘Duty calls, eh? Fine. I’ll walk you back.’

  He did. And then, to her surprise, he slid one arm possessively round her waist and strolled into the showroom beside her.

  Caroline came towards them. ‘He’s in Martin’s office.’

  Nicky looked across the showroom. A tall figure was pacing behind Martin’s glass walls. As she looked, he stopped, turned, went still… Their eyes locked.

  Nicky felt her heart give an odd lurch. It was like catching sight of someone she recognised; someone very important Hardly knowing what she did, she removed herself from Ben’s encircling arm. She did not take her eyes off that still figure.

  Behind her Ben said, ‘So that’s Esteban Tremain.’ He sounded as if he was committing him to memory.

  The man left Martin’s office and came swiftly across to her. His eyes never left her face. Nicky thought, He knows me too. She felt as if the earth’s crust was suddenly gaping, leaving Ben and Caroline on the far side of the gulf, and Nicky and Esteban Tremain alone.

  She blinked. Ben muttered something. She hardly heard him. Esteban Tremain paid no attention to anyone but Nicky. She shuddered under the intensity of those dark eyes.

  I am not afraid, Nicky told herself.

  Esteban Tremain said, ‘So we meet at last, Nicola Piper.’

  It broke the spell. She shook her head and the world came back into its proper focus.

  At her shoulder, Ben said warningly, ‘Nick?’

  Esteban transferred his dark gaze. His eyes narrowed. He sized Ben up in silence.

  They were a total contrast. In his well-cut suit, dark brows knit in frowning concentration, Esteban Tremain gave an impression of overwhelming power, only just contained. Ben meanwhile lounged against a pillar like a Greek god, all streaked blond hair and tanned forearms. Esteban Tremain stiffened.

  Sheer panic found Nicky’s tongue for her. ‘Mr Tremain,’ she said breathlessly. She held out her hand to him with more friendliness than she would have believed possible an hour ago.

  He ignored her hand.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to interrupt your social life,’ he said with awful courtesy.

  Nicky frowned. She turned back to her brother.

  ‘See you soon, Ben,’ she said meaningfully.

  ‘What?’

  Nicky resisted the urge to tread heavily on his foot.

  ‘I will be in touch,’ she said between her teeth. She backed him to the door and opened it pointedly. ‘Goodbye.’

  Ben went reluctantly, with a long look over his shoulder at Esteban Tremain. It was almost menacing and totally out of character.

  But Nicky had no time to think about that. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to deal with the most difficult client of her career to date.

  Esteban Tremain did not acknowledge Ben’s departure. But his displeasure was dissolving, she saw. It was replaced by sheer interest. He looked her up and down.

  ‘So I was right,’ he said softly. And smiled. Not kindly.

  Nicky watched the curve of the sensual mouth and felt a hollow open up in the pit of her stomach. She moistened suddenly dry lips. He was looking at her the way she imagined Victorian naturalists looked at a new species of penguin, she thought. Delighted, amused—and quite unconcerned about the feelings of the penguin.

  How could a man make you want to run and hide from him just by looking at you?

  Nicky cleared her throat. ‘Right about what?’

  ‘Blonde,’ Esteban said.

  And smiled right into her eyes.

  It caught her on the raw. But Nicky was not going to let him see that. She gave what was meant to be a light laugh. Then wished she hadn’t, as the dark gaze transferred, pleasurably, to her breasts.

  Nicky resisted the desire to hold the lapels of her jacket tight up to her throat. She pulled herself together with an effort

  ‘I can’t deny it,’ she said lightly.

  She realised that they were attracting an interested audience. Once again Esteban Tremain had proved an irresistible draw to every girl in the place. They had all found jobs which
brought them into the main showroom and were now busily engaged in them, ears flapping. Sally was gaping unashamedly.

  Hurriedly Nicky said, ‘Why don’t we go into Martin’s office?’

  Esteban Tremain took in the audience with one comprehensive glance. He looked amused.

  ‘By all means, if it makes you feel safer.’

  Nicky set her teeth and reminded herself that her management course had taught her how to deal with all sorts of difficult clients, even sexy and amused ones. She led the way, trying to ignore the fact that it felt as if every eye in the showroom was burning between her shoulder blades. She decided she loathed Esteban Tremain heartily.

  He followed close on her heels. Too close. As she stood aside to let him precede her, she breathed in his cologne. A shocking wave of something like memory hit her. The sea, she thought. He smells of the sea.

  She swallowed and shut the door of Martin’s glass case of an office with a bang that made the walls tremble.

  Esteban Tremain frowned. He looked intrigued and annoyed in equal measure. But there was a simmering attraction there as well.

  Out of nowhere the thought came: He’s going to touch me.

  And, for no reason, the memory of Andrew’s words last night came back to her, disastrous in their clarity. ‘You’ll never be free.’

  Nicky had a moment of pure unreasoning panic. He saw it. Startled awareness leaped into Esteban’s eyes. He seemed on the point of stepping towards her and her breath stopped in her throat.

  Then steep eyelids hid his expression. He shoved his hands hard in his pockets. And Nicky’s famous common sense kicked in.

  She said rapidly, ‘I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to talk to Mr de Vries yet. You can’t expect—’

  He said abruptly, almost as if the subject now bored him, ‘None of those damned machines work. Sort it.’

  Nicky clenched her hands. In her previous dealings with dissatisfied clients she was used to complaints about builders who did not work fast enough or colour schemes that their originators were now regretting. This sort of complaint about the appliances was a new one. She had not understood it when she’d read the file and she did not understand it now. Until she talked to Martin she did not know what to do about it.