by Maggie Brown
Sophie flinched, pink rose in her face. She nodded but remained silent.
“The woman with the exposed chest that’s plastered all over Facebook,” Eleanor continued accusingly.
“You saw the Facebook photo?”
“Who in Australia hasn’t?”
“I suppose nobody,” Sophie said in a resigned voice. “Except my mother and grandmother, thank goodness. They don’t do social media.”
Eleanor regarded her intently. “Can you give me a good reason why I should keep you on after that tasteless exhibition?”
“I can only say that I heartily regret making such a punce of myself,” Sophie replied. “But I would like to point out Jerry made those crude comments, not me.”
“Jerry is your boyfriend?”
“No. I was merely socializing with him that night.”
“So you take no responsibility for his remarks.”
“I do not. And I would also like to bring to your attention, that I hadn’t begun working for you at the time I…ah…accidentally made myself a spectacle.”
Eleanor raised her eyebrows at these words. She had expected her to beg, but it seemed that Ms. Ryan was made of sterner stuff. Instead, she was subtly telling her it was none of her business. “What should I do with you then?”
“I guess it’s up to you if you’re willing to give me a chance.”
“Okay, let’s nip this in the bud? If you work for me, there will no more public displays. Agreed?”
A spark flashed in Sophie’s eyes, but then it faded and she nodded. “Agreed, Ms. Godwin.”
“Good. Then we will put the incident behind us,” Eleanor responded smoothly. She swung her legs over the side of the mattress. “I’ll go to the bathroom before I eat. I’ve worked up quite an appetite and breakfast smells divine.”
Sophie solicitously propped the pillows behind her back after she climbed back into bed. “Comfortable?” she asked.
“Very,” Eleanor replied, surprised at the thoughtfulness.
Once she placed the tray across her lap, Sophie asked, “Would you like the room aired, ma’am?”
“Yes please.”
Sunlight streamed into the room after the curtains were pulled back. Eleanor studied Sophie as she walked out onto the balcony. She was an attractive woman: about five foot six, an inch or so shorter than her, with full breasts, slightly flaring hips, and a nicely shaped behind. She wasn’t Barbie-doll pretty, more beguiling, with her brooding eyes and stylish short hair. She oozed undeniable sexual allure. Eleanor felt a twitch of arousal, but pushed the feeling aside, confident it was only a fleeting thing. The unexpected attraction was no doubt a result of her upset hormones. Her emotions would be back on an even keel after a good rest.
Sophie turned to look at her with a cheery smile. “The view is amazing.”
Eleanor gave her another tick of approval. Sophie was good-natured, which she liked in a woman. She didn’t seem to harbour a grudge, as she took her medicine and moved on. It was also half the battle when dealing with staff. She gestured with a hand towards the chair in the corner. “Sit down for a minute. I’d like to lay down some of the ground rules and explain a few things.”
After Sophie pulled up the chair beside the bed, Eleanor continued. “I’ve been sick, hence the need to rest. Not life threatening, but it has been debilitating. I’ve been prescribed medication, so I expect to be fully recovered in a couple of weeks. Doctor’s orders are rest and relaxation, which means I’m to lounge around until my energy comes back. You’ll have to take up the slack until I’m on board again.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Eleanor felt a wave of frustration. And a little guilt. She had set the tone for the work relationship. Two months of ma’am would get very annoying. This wasn’t Downton Abbey. “Let’s not be so formal. Call me Eleanor. I’m not one for ceremony and we’ll be together for two months.”
Surprise flittered across Sophie’s face. “I’d be pleased to.”
“Good. Then that’s settled, Sophie. Deirdre Shaw said they have fresh seafood every day, so could you go over later and get some? Suss out the entertainment centre too. I understand there’s a buggy in the shed for our use.”
“Are there any foods you don’t eat, or particular preferences, Eleanor?”
“I’m not fussy. Judging by this breakfast, you’re a good cook.”
Sophie’s face lit up. “Thanks. I love cooking.”
“You haven’t wanted to do it for a living? I imagine it would be more lucrative and far more rewarding than housekeeping.”
When spots of red tinged Sophie’s cheeks, Eleanor realized she had just overstepped her boundaries again. She didn’t know what was wrong with her this morning. She rarely interfered in anyone’s business, and never verbalized her thoughts without thinking. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “That was tactless.”
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll see to my duties.” Sophie quickly scraped back the chair. “I’ll come back in half an hour and collect the tray.”
Eleanor grimaced. So much for cementing a good relationship with the help. Sophie had obviously been offended. Nothing was surer to put a damper on the holiday if her live-in companion disliked her. And she wanted to get on with her. The woman was a good cook and eye candy to boot. A very appealing combination.
Now for her mother—she had some explaining to do. She reached for the phone.
A cheerful familiar voice answered at the third ring. “Frances Godwin speaking.”
“Mother,” Eleanor said sternly.
“Ah. You’ve met her, have you?”
“Yes I have. What were you thinking?”
“You don’t like her?”
“That’s not the problem and you know it. Maria is in the past, seven years ago to be exact, and must be left there.”
A sigh came through the receiver. “Yes I know, dear, but I’m starting to worry about you. You’ve had no romantic attachments since.”
Eleanor kept her voice level with difficulty. “And you thought that hiring someone who looks like Maria was going to get me interested?”
“Well, she was the only one you’ve ever been head over heels with.”
“I do date, you know,” replied Eleanor testily.
“Ha! Discreetly, no doubt. So how come I haven’t heard you talk about anyone for years.”
“Because you are less than discreet,” Eleanor snapped.
“I wouldn’t have to hold my tongue if you were out in the open. It must be very cramped with a date in that cupboard with you.”
“It’s called a damn closet. I know how you feel about it, and I’ve decided after this new film is released, I’m coming out. Are you satisfied now?”
“There’s no need to take that tone. Naturally, I’ll be happy… I’ll throw a party when you do. And you haven’t answered my question. What do you think of Sophie Ryan?”
Eleanor paused for a fraction of a second too long before she said nonchalantly, “I haven’t formed an opinion one way or other. She’s a good cook which is a big plus.”
“Aha! Do I detect some interest?”
Eleanor groaned. A self-proclaimed matchmaker, Frances Godwin could sniff out a libido hitch a mile away. Time to throw a spoke in her wheel. “There’s no interest, so don’t get too excited. By the way, Carol is talking about coming over while I’m here.”
There was silence at the end of the phone. Eleanor could almost hear the crackle of ice coming through the line. She chuckled. Her mother hated Carol, a feeling that was mutual.
“Humph! What brings the black widow out of her web?”
“Just a friendly visit. How are you and Dad settling in?”
“Wonderfully well. I’ve already met most everyone in your street…” Eleanor turned the phone onto speaker mode, and ate her breakfast while she listened to the prattle. Once she had something interesting to talk about, her mother always hogged the conversation. She was on a roll now. Fascinated by the tabloids, she was in her el
ement in Hollywood. In two weeks, she had found out more about the neighbourhood than Eleanor had in the six years she’d been living there. She had even managed to snag an invitation from the reclusive star two doors down.
When footsteps sounded down the hallway, she said good-bye, automatically patting her hair into place. Sophie entered the room and approached the bed to take the tray. As she leaned close, Eleanor found her musky fragrance quite distracting. Sophie gave a little gasp, just the smallest intake of breath, when Eleanor lightly touched her on the arm and said, “That was delicious. Thank you.”
“Um…I’m glad you liked it.”
“Did you have a look around?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“It’s a great place.”
Eleanor tilted her head, waiting for more. When Sophie didn’t elaborate, she added, “Okay. I’ll let you get on with your work.”
Sophie nodded and without another word, hurried from the room. Eleanor stared after her. If monosyllables were the only conversation she was going to get, she’d be pulling her hair out by the end of the two months. Good food and attractive looks only went so far.
Chapter Seven
“Son of a bitch,” groaned Sophie as she ran down the stairs. Was that all she could say after being complimented? What was wrong with her? She had morphed into an idiot, barely able to string two words together. Eleanor had her tied up in knots. Somehow, she had to get a grip, but the sight of Eleanor in bed was etched into her mind as permanently as the tattoo on her hip. She was so lovely with her silken hair, her soft creamy white skin and her smooth rich dark chocolate voice. But without makeup, the smattering of freckles on her nose gave her an aura of helplessness as well. Sophie had little defence against that combination.
She forced away the self-recriminations to concentrate on her work. The house was spotless—the management had obviously spruced it up ready for their arrival. She didn’t even have to dust. After a quick inventory of the kitchen, laundry and cleaning products, she headed out to the back. The yard was spectacular. Set in greyish blue flagstones, a swimming pool wandered between gardens of tropical plants and trees. A natural rock waterfall formed one end, a spa on the other, while a thatched hut with a table and cane chairs stood to one side.
So cool! She could imagine the two of them sipping cocktails there in the afternoons after a swim. After a last lingering look at the inviting water, she went in search of transportation, finding a two-seater golf buggy parked in the garage, with the key in the ignition.
On the drive down the track, she could see the rest of the villas perched along the side of the hill. They blended into the natural surroundings like internal retreats. At the bottom, the road straightened and ran parallel to the line of coconut palms on the oceanfront. Halfway along, Sophie parked the buggy under one of the trees to walk to the beach. The scene was nothing short of breathtaking—postcard perfect, white sand glistening under a sky almost too blue to be real. A reef fringed the shoreline, coral plainly visible beneath the clear water. A manta ray lazily manoeuvred between the clumps of coral, and in the distance, a pod of dolphins frolicked in the sea.
She ambled along the sand until she reached the jetty. Two yachts sat gently swaying on the water nearby, while a motorboat was moored to one of the pylons. Nearby, a larger, more elaborate yacht lay at anchor. She surmised it probably belonged to one of the guests. She poked around the jetty for a while before she moved on to the boat shed, which stood behind a cement boat ramp. When she reached the threshold of the open door of the shed, a blast of cigarette smoke and oil fumes shot up her nostrils. An involuntary cough bubbled out. The stout man with his head in a boat engine, turned quickly at the sound, ash floating off the cigarette dangling from his lips. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I’m having a look around,” Sophie answered with a smile.
“Just arrived?”
“I flew in yesterday.”
“For a long holiday?”
“We’ll be here for two months. I’m actually an employee of a guest.”
When he visibly relaxed at her words, she guessed he liked being on an equal footing with people. As she reached out to slide her fingertips over the smooth fibreglass hull to feel the familiar texture, he looked at her quizzically. “You know something about boats?”
“My father has a Mako 234 Centre Console. I often go out with him.”
“That’s a nice unit. If you’re interested, I run fishing and sightseeing charters for the guests.” He wiped a beefy hand on his overalls before he thrust it out. “Doug Bremer. I handle most everything to do with the sea.”
“Sophie Ryan. I work for Eleanor Godwin.”
“Really? Eleanor Godwin is actually here? I’ve seen all her movies.”
Sophie peered at him in surprise. Doug didn’t look the type to be hung up on a film star, especially a woman. If anything, he seemed an action-flick man. He was somewhere in his late fifties, with a grizzled face, a large bent nose, and faded blue eyes rimmed red as if he needed more sleep. Something about him, though, struck a chord with Sophie. It was the way he looked her in the eye with no apology. A refreshing change from the disingenuous politicians she encountered day to day.
“She’ll be here for a while, so later on I’ll introduce you.”
“Crikey. I’ll have to shave that day,” he said with a wheezing laugh. “Since you like fishing, I go out alone sometimes. I could always use a deckhand if you’re interested.” He gave her a wink, “I don’t give away my best spots to the guests.”
“That’s a date. I’ll call in next week,” she said with a broad smile.
Pleased with the meeting and the unexpected invitation, she wandered back through the sand to the buggy. There was something to say about being on the same level as the employees. She toyed with the idea of pumping him for information about former guests. Sometimes people had shady reasons to come to such an isolated place to relax, and if anyone knew what went on here, it would be Doug. Fishing mates shared secrets, especially if alcohol was involved. She knew that well enough crewing for her father and his friends. Not to mention Owen’s buddies supplying her false references.
But she quickly discarded the idea. It went against the grain to ask the man to betray confidences. She had some integrity left, even though she was forced to spy on Eleanor. At that thought, she gave a shudder but pushed it resolutely out of her mind. She might have to play Mata Hari, but there was no reason not to enjoy paradise.
She hummed a catchy tune as she drove on ahead to the large building. The entertainment centre was built in the same style as the villas, a coordinated effort to blend in with nature. There was no reception desk in the foyer. Perhaps it was somewhere else, she mused, but then maybe in this place for the super-rich, a booking was done more discreetly. Hell, how would she know? She’d never even had a toe in so upscale a resort.
An imposing woman in pressed slacks, a white shirt, and a lilac jacket, suddenly appeared at her elbow. Sophie’s heart leapt into her throat. She hadn’t even heard her come in. “May I be of service, ma’am?”
“Eleanor Godwin sent me for seafood.”
“Of course. Come this way.”
She directed Sophie past the kitchen to where Lisa was packing fresh seafood in a freezer. “Ms. Godwin has requested some supplies, Lisa,” she said, and as silently as she had popped up, stole away.
The stocky chef lifted a hand in a wave. “Hi there, Sophie. Come on in and take what you want.”
“Hi, Lisa.” She jerked her thumb behind her. “Who’s the Ghost Who Walks?”
A chuckle erupted from Lisa. “That’s Monique. She’s not a bad stick, just likes to creep up on people. She thinks it adds class to the place.”
“Well, she gave me a hell of a fright. I nearly swallowed my tonsils.”
“I know the feeling. What seafood are you looking for?”
“Prawns and fish. What’s the catch of the day?”
&
nbsp; “Coral trout…caught this morning. Guaranteed to melt in your mouth.”
Sophie picked out four medium-sized fillets and handed them across. “And a kilo of king prawns as well, please.”
With a smile, Lisa passed them back wrapped. “Enjoy! Have you seen through the centre yet?”
“No.”
“Then come on and I’ll give you the royal tour.” She stripped off her gloves before she walked to the door.
The building was quietly elegant with its pale polished floors, walls and ceiling beams. It was a multipurpose centre, having an entertainment room, a restaurant with a small dance floor and stage, a cocktail bar, a small movie theatre, a well-stocked library, and a gym. Office rooms and the medic, and masseur-hairdresser were down one side, while a swimming pool and bar were out the back.
“Very impressive,” murmured Sophie as they wandered through. “Do they have much night entertainment?”
“People come here for a quiet time, not like the other resorts where it’s mostly a young crowd or families. We have a pianist, and occasionally a band comes over from the mainland. It depends mainly on the guests at the time. Deirdre and Len usually play it by ear, and cater accordingly.”
“Nothing else?”
“Every month is a poetry night. People come over solely for it.”
Sophie looked at her in surprise. “It’s popular?”
“Oh yes,” said Lisa. “It’s a feature of the island. And they put on a quiz night occasionally.”
“Hmm…that sounds interesting,” said Sophie. Trivial Pursuit was something she was good at—she seemed to have two left feet for outdoor sports. “I’ll pass it on to the boss. Now I’d better be off and get her smoko.”
* * *
Sophie rapped on the bedroom door, balancing the morning tea tray in the other.
“Come in.”
Sophie pushed through the door, happy to see that Eleanor’s cheeks held a light bloom now. Propped up in bed with a book, she wore an attractive green silk shirt that enhanced her hazel eyes. She reached for the tray with enthusiasm. “A cup of decent coffee. Just what I’ve been waiting for.”
