The Latin Affair. Sophie Weston
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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.
Frowning, she said, ‘Did you read the instructions properly?’
Esteban Tremain looked at her for an incredulous moment. Nicky realised she had made a mistake. She added hurriedly, ‘I mean all the appliances going wrong. The statistical chances of that must be off the graph. Surely you can see that’
He gave her a sweet, poisonous smile.
‘Oh, I do. I can only conclude that it is not chance.’
Nicky was so bewildered by that, she did not even take offence at his tone.
‘No one else has had a problem. Martin uses only the very best suppliers,’ she said, thinking aloud. ‘And even if one supplier has suddenly lost the plot on quality control we didn’t get everything in your kitchen from just one company. There were too many machines.’ She looked up. ‘You’re sure every one of them was bad?’
Esteban Tremain looked down his nose. It was a thin, aquiline nose and it made her think of a particularly dictatorial Roman Emperor.
‘I have not test-driven every waste-disposal unit and coffee-grinder, if that’s what you mean.’
Nicky began to feel a little better.
‘Well, which have you test-driven?’ she demanded. That did not come out quite as she intended either. It sounded downright truculent
His eyebrows, she noted irrelevantly, were very dark and fine. Just at the moment they were locked together across the bridge of his nose in a mighty frown. A Roman Emperor in a mood to condemn a gladiator.
‘I am informed,’ he said with precision, ‘that neither