The Argentinian's Demand

by Cathy Williams

  And the number one instruction was for her to sort out flights to the island. As if she were in any danger of forgetting it!

  By five Emily was drained, and she was getting ready to leave when the phone rang and she was accosted by the dark timbre of his disembodied voice down the line.

  How had she spent so long never being affected by that? How was it that his voice had never made her toes curl the way it was doing now?

  In the act of putting on her jacket, she literally had to sit down and control her breathing as he demanded a debrief on the various things he had asked her to do. Had she sent those emails to the Hong Kong subsidiary of the electronics plant he was taking over...? Had she seen the response from the Briggs lawyers...? The Glasgow arm of his telecommunications outfit needed confirmation of price bands for new contracts and—could she make sure to hard copy all the relevant data by the morning...? And, last but not least, had she booked their flights.

  * * *

  Leandro relaxed back in his chauffeur-driven car. He had spent the day in a buoyant mood. He had one more company under his belt after some hard bargaining, and the following day...

  Underneath his annoyance and frank bewilderment at Emily’s decision to resign, his shock at the reason she had given and the uncomfortable sense of betrayal at her short notice and lack of forewarning, there was a tug of intense satisfaction at the prospect of them travelling to the Caribbean.

  He had spent a lot of the day thinking of her. He had played over in his mind the conversation they had had, the changing expressions on her face. She had been...shifty. She had answered his questions when pushed, but he had been left with the feeling that her answers only skimmed the surface.

  The fact that satisfying his curiosity would ultimately have no bearing on her departure was an irrelevance as far as Leandro was concerned. He got a kick just thinking about travelling down an unpredictable path for once when it came to the opposite sex.

  Was he becoming jaded? It was a question he had never asked himself. He was thirty-two years old, in his prime, and he enjoyed a wide-ranging and satisfying love-life. Or so he had always imagined. Now he wondered whether it was quite as satisfying as he’d thought if he could find himself so taken over by the pleasurable novelty of discovering this untapped side of his secretary.

  The last woman he had dated had faded from the scene three weeks previously and here he was, becoming fixated by this new vision of Emily Edison—an Emily Edison who was suddenly so much more than the sum total of her parts.

  Hell, he had been fantasising about her! Wasn’t that a little bizarre?

  Had he reached a stage where novelty was so compelling? He had nothing against marriage, per se. He assumed he would marry eventually. Someone suitable. Someone from an equally wealthy background. He had had a narrow and salutary escape years ago, from a woman who had played the hard to get game to perfection. She had teased him for just the right length of time, convinced him of her shyness and her indifference to his money... Her real agenda had been uncovered only because he had happened to overhear a conversation she’d had on the phone to her mother...

  So, sure, he would marry in due course—someone he knew was not after his money. His sisters were all married, after all, and his parents had had a long and satisfying marriage. He could enjoy the freedom of a bachelor life for as long as he wanted. But how satisfying, exactly, had that been of late?

  He frowned and thought of the women who had cluttered his life over the years. Beautiful, sexy, compliant, always willing to fall in with whatever he wanted. On paper, it sounded good enough, but the reality of it was slightly different. His boredom threshold was narrowing with each passing relationship. The thrill of the chase had vanished a long time ago.

  * * *

  ‘The earliest flight I could get was for the day after tomorrow,’ Emily said now with staccato crispness.

  She wondered where he was now. Back at his apartment? In a restaurant waiting for some hot date? She didn’t want to waste time taking any mental detours in search of such details.

  ‘Time?’

  She told him. Just vocalising the details of their flights brought home to her the reality of the trip.

  ‘Take tomorrow off,’ he said wryly. ‘I expect you’ll have all sorts of...things to do before we go...’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Emily adopted her best businesslike voice. ‘I’m sure there will be things that need completing on the work front before—’

  ‘Emily,’ he interrupted decisively, ‘I’ll be in before seven tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure whatever needs doing gets done.’

  ‘But won’t you want me to take care of the work transfer? Get Ruth on board to field the correspondence...?’

  ‘We’re not travelling to the outer ends of the Amazonian rainforest,’ he informed her. ‘There will be an internet connection. The bulk of the correspondence will be dealt with by us. You can see it as work as usual bar a change of scenery.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ Emily breathed.

  Instantly Leandro had to fight down a spurt of annoyance.

  ‘Which doesn’t mean,’ he added, ‘that I’m expecting you to pack your starchy suits and high-heeled shoes...’

  ‘I do realise that that wouldn’t be appropriate,’ Emily snapped.

  ‘The swimming pool will be up and functioning...’

  Emily pretended not to hear that. ‘Will you want me to meet you at the airport?’

  ‘I’ll send my driver for you. Or I can swing by your place and get you en route...’

  ‘That won’t be necessary!’

  She shuddered at the thought of Leandro Perez seeing where she lived. If he were curious about her now, then he would certainly be collapsing under the weight of questions should he ever step foot in her house and see her sparse, substandard surroundings.

  ‘And it won’t be necessary for you to send your driver for me, Leandro. If you don’t trust the public transport system, then I’m happy to get a taxi and charge it to the company.’

  ‘Fine.’ He banked down his irritation.

  A fortnight in the Caribbean... Sure, there would be work to be done, but still...sun, sea and sand.

  A driver to fetch her and her enthusiasm was nil. But then...

  His mind swung back to the mystery fiancé about whom he knew nothing.

  ‘So, what did...I forget his name...have to say about your trip abroad with the boss?’ Leandro asked, smoothly diverting the conversation to a destination which spiked his curiosity. ‘All hunky-dory with the time you’re going to be spending with me?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he be?’

  Emily tried and failed to imagine the situation Leandro was hinting at...a jealous lover laying down ground rules, maybe phoning every hour on the hour just to make sure that nothing untoward was going on... And then she went hot at realising where her mind was heading.

  She could virtually hear the sound of him shrugging nonchalantly down the end of the line.

  How had they managed to travel to this place where their conversations led away from work onto treacherous quicksand? Where her grip was so uncertain? Even removed from his presence, in the sanctuary of her own office, she could feel herself burning as her blood thickened and her mouth dried up.

  Her breasts felt suddenly heavy, her nipples tingly and sensitive, and a rush of pure shame flooded her. Whatever this door was that had opened up a crack between them, she was determined to shove herself against it as hard as she could until it was closed again.

  ‘Well, if you’re absolutely sure that you won’t need me at work tomorrow...’

  Leandro gritted his teeth as she once again skirted around the conversation he found he was keen to have. The eager, obliging and annoyingly forthcoming women he was used to had faded completely in their attractiveness. He marvelled that he
had not become irritated with them before. Compared to Emily’s sparing, guarded, tightly controlled boundaries, they now seemed utterly lacking in any sense of challenge.

  And a good challenge had always been something he enjoyed getting his teeth into.

  ‘Absolutely... Go out and have some retail therapy...’

  ‘I don’t do retail therapy,’ Emily responded automatically.

  ‘All women do retail therapy.’

  ‘All the women you know do retail therapy. At any rate, I shall take the time to pack and...and...’

  ‘And...?’

  ‘There are a couple of things that I shall need to do before I leave... It’s a long time to be out of the country...’

  ‘A fortnight?’

  Emily sighed. Leandro Perez was persistent. If he wanted to acquire something he acquired it—whatever obstacles got thrown in his way. It was just the way he was built. He had once told her in passing, over a meal delivered to his office courtesy of one of the top restaurants in London because they had needed food after twelve hours of solid work on a thorny deal, that persistence was a gene he had inherited from his father.

  ‘He taught me,’ Leandro had said drily, ‘that if you want something you have to go for it, and that the things you most want seldom drop into your lap like ripe fruit falling from a tree...’

  Emily had inwardly sniggered. That being the case, he had clearly never really wanted any of the women he had dated, because one of the most stunningly predictable traits they had in common was their ability to fall like ripe fruit from a tree straight into his lap.

  She had said with her customary politeness that sometimes you just had to give up on certain things because that was the wiser option, and had then immediately clammed up when he had tried to draw her into an explanation of what she had meant.

  ‘Yes. A fortnight.’

  ‘You took two weeks off last year in a stretch...’ he reminded her.

  ‘But I didn’t leave the country.’

  He had assumed she had. Of course when he had shown interest she had shrugged her shoulders and thrown him a something and nothing reply.

  ‘Where did you go?’ he asked curiously. ‘I recall you took a fortnight off in October...not a brilliant time of year to relax in this country—not if you’re looking for anything other than wall-to-wall rain and wind...’

  ‘Last October the weather was beautiful.’

  She tensed as he unwittingly came close to a subject she definitely had no intention of talking about. He might have dragged Oliver’s name out of her, but that had been unavoidable. She should have had the foresight to know that her resignation would prompt his curiosity. Beyond that, however... No, there were no more roads she would be lured down.

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘Yes, it was. You must be keen to get off the phone, Leandro. Are you at home?’

  ‘Not currently.’

  Emily wondered where he was and assumed the obvious. Her voice was correspondingly cool when she said, after a brief hesitation, ‘I’ll make sure not to disturb you for the remainder of the evening, even if I need to ask you anything.’

  ‘And why would that be?’

  ‘I’m assuming that you’re on one of your dates.’

  She could have kicked herself. Yet again her tongue had run away from her and she needed to rescue this unruly twist in the conversation—one that had been prompted by her!

  She wondered if the stress of everything happening in her life at the moment had weakened her defences. Whether, combined with that, the sudden, unexpected shift in her normal working relations with Leandro had further thrown her off course.

  Kicking herself every time she slipped up wasn’t going to help matters.

  ‘In which case,’ she added briskly, ‘I wouldn’t dream of interrupting.’ She emitted a forced chuckle at this point, if only to demonstrate to him how fatuous she actually found their conversation. ‘I do know that you don’t like to be disturbed when you’re with one of your...your...’

  ‘My...? Don’t forget you’ve made yourself crystal-clear on what you think of my...my... Now, how would you describe them...?’

  ‘I never said anything about the sort of women you go out with,’ Emily muttered. ‘I only told you that I don’t like running errands involving them on your behalf. I’ve only met a couple of them and they both seemed very...very...nice...’

  ‘Damned with faint praise.’

  ‘Oh, this is ridiculous!’ Emily burst out angrily. ‘I don’t want to be having this conversation with you. If you’re out with someone then I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed. If you need to get in touch with me tomorrow for some reason then you have my mobile number. I shall make sure I check it at regular intervals just in case.’

  Leandro, who had no time for any show of histrionics in women, relaxed and half closed his eyes. This was the most rattled he had ever heard her. In fact over the past twenty-four hours she had blossomed into a real three-dimensional person, and he was enjoying the conversation—passing histrionics and all.

  ‘And you’ll be in London should I need to call on you to come in for some reason? Highly unlikely but, as you pointed out, a fortnight with both of us out of the office is unheard of...’

  ‘No,’ Emily said shortly. ‘I probably won’t be in London if I have a day off. Would you like me to come in to work after all?’

  ‘No...’

  Leandro found his mind wandering off course as his imagination, previously rusty, kicked into gear. A day off having mind-blowing sex with the mystery fiancé?

  ‘I think I’ll cope. You go off and do...whatever it is you have planned. Excluding, of course, that terminally boring retail therapy which you’re not into. I’ll see you at the airport. Bring your computer, Emily. And don’t forget...pack for the weather...’

  CHAPTER THREE

  EMILY ARRIVED AT the airport with time to kill. She had had a sleepless night. Various random scenarios of what lay ahead of her for the next two weeks had ensured a disturbed sleep and now, with the bustle of people around her pulling cases, peering around for check-in desks, browsing in the shops and buying stacks of magazines and confectionery, she anxiously glanced around for Leandro.

  He had instructed her on where to meet him. Whilst every other check-in desk was fronted by long queues, the first-class check-in for their flight was calm and empty. She could see people glancing at her with envy and kept her eyes firmly pinned in front of her.

  She had packed economically and sparingly and kept her wardrobe as neutral as possible for a fortnight in the sun. Nothing flowery or girlish. Nothing to suggest that she was there for any other reason aside from business. Her single one-piece swimsuit was black. She had no intention of frolicking in a pool in a bikini. Or even stepping foot in one if she could help it.

  Leandro’s dark, deep voice behind her made her jump; she swung round to find him far too close to her for her liking, and automatically took a step back.

  ‘I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.’ His voice was amused as he gave her the once-over.

  Her fair hair was neatly in place, pulled back from her face and twisted into her style of choice, which was a bun designed to demonstrate that its wearer was anything but frivolous. She had traded in the more severe grey suit in favour of something a little less formal but still, in the end, a suit. Cream jacket with sleeves to the elbow, navy blue tee shirt underneath, cream skirt and a pair of flat shoes. Her entire outfit shrieked business, and if he hadn’t had a tantalising glimpse behind the stern façade, he could have been forgiven for thinking that the woman looking up at him was completely devoid of personality.

  But, oh, she wasn’t. Never had been. Even though she had tried her hardest to camouflage that fact. And now...

  ‘Can’t stand airport waiting...’r />
  He held out his hand for her passport and Emily stood back while he handled the check-in. Did he notice how the young girl behind the desk had gone bright red and was stumbling over her little speech about the first-class lounge and where they could find it? Or, as a practised charmer who worked his way through glamorous women the way a gourmand worked his way through a Michelin-starred meal, was he casually immune to the attention he commanded from the opposite sex?

  Her lips thinned and she turned away.

  ‘Which is why,’ he continued, striding off as she fell in step with him, ‘I tend to get to airports as late as possible. Tell me how your day was yesterday? What did you do?’

  ‘I...I...had a few things to put into place...’

  Leandro looked down at her. In flats she reached slightly above his shoulder and it made a change from the women he dated, who were all much shorter than he was.

  ‘You’ve brought your computer, I take it?’

  Emily exhaled a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to pin her down into trying to avoid yet another inroad into her private life. ‘Of course I did.’ She launched into a discussion on some of the deals he was currently working on and ignored his patent lack of animated response. ‘Did anything urgent crop up yesterday?’ she asked, if only to ensure their conversation remained on neutral ground.

  He turned to look at her.

  ‘Are you really interested?’

  They had both stopped and the crowds parted around them. For a second her breath caught painfully in her throat and, having made a concerted effort not to look at him—really look at him—she now discovered that she couldn’t peel her eyes away.

  Next to him, she knew she looked stiff, awkwardly dressed in her lightweight suit which was hardly suitable for long-haul travel but which felt so much safer than a pair of comfortable trousers and a casual tee shirt. He looked cool, sophisticated, expensive. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a polo shirt with a discreet logo on the front. No jacket. Loafers. His pull-along case was a small black leather affair, with no glaringly obvious outward evidence of having cost a lot, but it was easy to tell at a glance that it did.