He leaned back against the pillows, watching her in the dim light. 'Would it matter so much to you?'
'Yes, it would,' she admitted. 'It would matter a lot. Ben's been through such a rotten time lately, and things have got pretty bad at the works. But you know that already, of course, that was why he approached you in the first instance. He was so hoping that—that somehow the company would be able to carry on. With your help,' she added, because that was what it amounted to.
'Yes,' he said thoughtfully. 'That's the situation from Ben Clark's point of view. But I asked you would it matter so much to you, personally.'
He was quizzing her again—trying to find out how much Ben meant to her. Well, she wasn't going to satisfy his curiosity. 'I should lose a good job,' she said flatly. 'That's always important.'
'O.K.,' he said, and his eyes glinted. 'Don't tell me, I'll find out for myself.'
The man was impossible and she would dearly like to tell him so. She got to her feet stiffly. 'I'll find my room now, if you've got the key. I'd like a shower and a change of clothes.' She glanced with distaste at her crumpled skirt.
'It seems hardly worth while moving everything up,' Saul said. 'You be sorting out what you want while I have a shower and then the bathroom's all yours. We'll go down and have a working breakfast and discuss the various points I want to go over with you. And this time we really will discuss them,' he added with a wicked sideways glance at her. 'No sidetracking.'
She would have liked to come back with, 'Who started the sidetracking?' but it seemed wiser to leave the matter. Whatever happened she mustn't needle this man who held the future of Ben's company in his hands.
'O.K.,' she said, and when he seemed about to throw back the duvet and get out of bed she beat a hasty retreat into the sitting room. Saul's mocking voice followed her. 'Don't tell me you're shy.'
As she unlocked her case she thought rather miserably that that was exactly what she was—shy. Well, perhaps not exactly shy, but certainly inexperienced in dealing with a man like this—a worldly, rich, sophisticated type, totally unlike any man she had encountered before. The difference was that with the boys she had dated up to now she had always felt that she could hold her own. She was careful never to allow an encounter to become too heated, or to seem to offer more than she was prepared to give. So far it had worked well and, truth to tell, she had never met a man to whom she had wanted to commit herself.
She had grown up with the rather pleasant feeling that she was a cool girl, not likely to be overwhelmed by a burning passion. She thought perhaps that her mother had helped her to form this image of herself. Her parents' marriage was typical of the sort of marriage Karen had expected, one day, to have herself—a marriage of shared interests, companionship, affection. She had never known them quarrel seriously about anything.
She opened her case and began to sort through its contents absently. If she married Ben eventually that was the sort of marriage she would have. She could give him so much that Christine had never given him—an interest in his work and help with it. Understanding. Love.
Love. Could she imagine herself feeling, with Ben, as she had felt just now, lying in Saul Marston's arms? Indulging in a brief, crazy, exchange of passion?
Oh, I don't know, she thought crossly, I just don't want to think about it now. From her dressing case she picked out bra, pants and sheer tights and a dress of uncrushable linen in a pale apple-green, with a matching short jacket. That was cool enough, it should give the right impression.
'Bathroom's all yours,' Saul's voice came from behind her and she turned to see him standing in the doorway, a blue towel knotted round his waist, his dark hair wet and gleaming. There was no doubt about it, he looked stunning. All superbly male, with his strongly muscled body, the dark mat of hair running down his chest, the width of his brown shoulders.
Karen was suddenly aware that she was staring at him and felt an unaccustomed heat rise to her face. 'Oh, yes, thanks,' she muttered, and hastily tossing the clean clothes she had selected over her arm she bolted past him into the bathroom.
Half an hour later she emerged. A leisurely shower and some time spent on hair and make-up had, she hoped, restored the image of the cool young personal assistant. Saul, too, was the picture of a successful executive, in a grey alpaca suit with a white silk shirt and royal blue tie. He was lounging back on the sofa studying a sheaf of papers. He looked up when she came into the room and then got to his feet, his eyes moving over her slowly.
'Wow!' he said appreciatively. 'I was going to complain about the time you were taking, but now I've seen the result it would be churlish. You look most delectable in that green thing—like one of those French apples. "Delicious" I think they're called.'
'Thank you,' said Karen composedly. He came across the room and put an arm round her shoulders and turned her towards the door. 'Breakfast,' he said. 'I'm starving.'
Beside the writing table was a cheval-glass hanging on a painted frame and Saul paused in front of it. 'We make a very fetching couple,' he said, tilting his head sideways with a grin. 'We could do great things together.'
Karen looked too, and in spite of herself she felt a small thrill as she surveyed their reflections side by side. A tall, good-looking, impressive man. A slender, sleekly-groomed, dark girl beside him. That girl looked infinitely more poised and sophisticated than she was feeling.
But she mustn't give him a hint of that and as they walked on she said coolly, 'I'm ready to work as hard as you want, in any way I can, if it's to help Ben's interests.'
She was looking straight ahead as they went out to the lift, but she thought he smiled as he said. 'Thanks Karen, I'm sure you are. But I wasn't really thinking of Ben.'
Again Karen felt a jolt of something very near to fear. What did he mean—what did he want of her? She wasn't yet prepared to answer that question, or even think about it, but it nagged at the back of her mind as they had breakfast. The dining room was enormous and, as yet, sparsely occupied. They chose a continental breakfast and as they drank coffee and ate rolls and a delicious preserve made, so Saul told her, from pineapple and papaya, he began, at last, to talk of business matters.
'I've seen the books,' he said, 'but I need filling in on several matters.' He began to fire questions at her. What was the capacity of the workshop as it stood? Did they work to full capacity? What was the morale of the workers like? The absentee rate? What was the procedure for staff training? Had the company ever lost orders due to not meeting a delivery on date? Who attended to specifications? On and on until her head was spinning.
But she kept her wits about her and answered his questions as briefly and accurately as she could, and he nodded from time to time, She got the feeling that everything she said was being stored as data in a computer-like brain. 'The point is,' he said at last, leaning forward, his eyes holding hers keenly, that I think I might have a very good potential market for Ben Clark's stuff with several of the firms in our group. There'll be directors or representatives of all the companies in Acapulco for the conference and I'd like you to meet them.'
'Me?' Karen's voice rose a tone. 'But I shan't be coming to Acapulco now that Ben's in hospital here.'
'Oh, I think you must,' Saul said impassively. 'There must be a representative of Clark's there. It would look extremely bad if there weren't. I always make a point of keeping my directors informed of new plans and I should like to know I have their approval before I go ahead and finalise anything.'
'And if they don't approve?' ventured Karen.
Saul sat back and shrugged. 'Then we'll just have to think again, won't we?' he said smoothly and she knew she wouldn't get anything more definite out of him at the moment.
He said, 'You really are involved with Ben Clark's business, aren't you?'
'Yes, of course I am,' Karen said rather shortly. 'Ben's a grand person and I want him to succeed.'
He was silent for a moment, studying her face, then he said, 'You know, a girl like you shouldn't be
acting as a nanny to a bloke like Ben Clark. Oh, a good chap, I grant you, and gifted too, but he isn't going to get anywhere under his own steam.'
Karen swallowed and prayed for strength to be able to take this without hitting back at him angrily. At that moment she disliked the man more than ever.
'I suppose it depends on where you want to go,' she said at last.
He looked surprised. 'But surely there's only one place. To the top of your particular tree. If you're out on a limb you're due to get shaken off. But don't let's argue about it. You want to go to the hospital, don't you, so let's make that our first priority. You can assure your Ben that his interests are being splendidly looked after by one very lovely and efficient personal assistant,' he added with a mocking edge to his voice.
Karen didn't condescend to answer.
At the hospital Saul sought out the doctor that Karen had seen the previous night. This morning he was helpful and affable, no hint of the patronising way he had treated her yesterday. She supposed that was the effect Saul had on people—or perhaps it was because Mexico was a man's country still, or so she had heard. Whatever the reason, she very quickly found herself taken by a young nurse into Ben's room.
She was a doctor's daughter; she didn't expect miracles. But even so she was horrified when she saw him lying there, so straight and still under the covers, his face ashen, all the life-saving apparatus of tubes and dials round his bed.
But he was awake, he knew her, he even managed a ghost of his usual grin. 'Ben—how are you? How are you feeling?'
'Fine,' he whispered, not moving his head. 'Just fine. They've—patched me up—O.K.'
She swallowed. 'You'll soon be feeling lots better. And when you get out of here it'll be a new beginning—I'm sure of it.'
She thought his eyes brightened a little. 'You mean—the company?'
She nodded eagerly. 'Yes. Listen, Ben dear. Saul Marston wants me to go to Acapulco, to the conference. He says there ought to be a Clark's representative there to be introduced to the directors of his other companies. Would you like me to go? I couldn't talk about the technical side of things, of course, it would only be to—well, just to be there, to keep the company's flag flying. What do you think? I hadn't planned on going, I hadn't even thought of it. I wanted to stay here, to be near you and come in each day and get you anything you wanted, but perhaps ...' Her voice trailed off. Ben looked so dreadfully tired, it was a shame she had to come to him and ask about a thing like this.
'Just say yes or no, Ben. I'll do whatever you think best.' She took one of his cold hands in hers.
His eyes looked into hers in silence and she couldn't tell what he was thinking. Then he murmured, 'Yes, please go, Karen.' He drew in an uneven breath. 'And—look after yourself, my dear.'
'I will,' she promised. 'And perhaps I'll have some good news next time I see you.'
'Yes.' His voice was very faint now. Karen bent and kissed his forehead and turned away. It was then that she saw that the door was half open and Saul was standing there, looking in.
They walked away together in silence. Only when they reached the waiting taxi did Saul speak. 'Well?' he said.
Karen said chokily, 'He looks so terribly ill. I do hope he's going to be all right.'
Saul looked out of the taxi window. 'He's a lucky man to have a secretary who cares so much about his well-being.'
'Well, of course I care,' she said rather fiercely, and neither of them spoke again until they reached the hotel.
There were more papers to go through together. Saul was completely the businessman now, keen, abrupt, crackling with vitality as he went over point after point with her, delving into the most minute details of the working of the company. Karen thought she Was holding her own—in fact she couldn't deny that there were some questions that she could answer perhaps better than Ben himself could have done.
Finally Saul closed the folders and stacked them together. 'I think that about ties it up for the moment,' he said. 'Now we'll have coffee and find out about the shuttle service to Acapulco. The rest of the gang will be arriving today and tomorrow we'll have our first meeting.'
Karen hesitated and then said, 'Before we have coffee do you think we could phone to the office in Lessington? I'd feel much happier if I could let them know what's happening.'
Saul consulted his watch. 'Good idea. We might just about catch them at the end of the afternoon if they're still there. I'll put a call through to Ward.'
He sat down on the bed and dialled, while Karen stood and waited. In no time at all, it seemed, he was saying, 'Ah—James—Saul here, in Mexico City. How goes it with you—still snowing? It is? Look, we've hit a bit of a snag here. Ben Clark's been taken ill and he's in hospital here in Mexico City. Karen—his P.A.—I don't think you've met her yet—is here with me and I think she'd like to have a word with ‑-' he glanced at Karen. 'Who would you like to speak to?'
Karen thought quickly. 'To Charlie—or Jean.'
There was a pause and she could hear a man's voice at the other end of the line, talking to someone. Then Saul said, 'Yes. Yes, she's here, I'll put her on.' He held out the receiver to Karen. 'It's Jean,' he said. 'She was in the office when we rang.'
'Karen?' Jean's voice came clearly across the wire, all those thousands of miles away and Karen had a vivid picture of her, in her blue boiler-suit, standing in the shabby office, with snow falling outside.
'Jean—I wanted you to know ‑'
Jean's voice interrupted, high-pitched, impatient. 'Yes, yes, Mr Ward's just told me—Ben's ill. Karen, what's the matter—how is he? Is it serious? What's happening?'
Karen sketched in the details briefly. 'He had the operation yesterday and he's come through very well, the doctors say. We went to the hospital this morning so that we could see Ben before we leave for Acapulco ...'
'Before—what?' Jean's voice was three tones higher than usual.
'I'm going to Acapulco, for the conference,' Karen explained, and added, 'Ben asked me to.'
There was a moment's silence. Then Jean's voice again. She seemed to be speaking with difficulty, or else it was a very bad line. 'You're going away—and leaving him alone in hospital?'
'Yes, I have to, it's what Ben wants. He's being well looked after.' Another silence. 'Jean—Jean, are you there?' She shook her head and handed the receiver back to Saul. 'I think we've been cut off.'
But a moment later Saul was speaking to James Ward again, going over a few points of finance. Karen hardly listened. She went across and stared out of the window. Poor Jean, she'd had a shock. She thought a lot of Ben, in her reserved way. Karen wished she could have had more time to explain, to put Jean's mind at rest.
Saul had finished the call now. 'They seem to be getting along O.K.' he said. He rang for coffee and then checked that there was an afternoon flight to Acapulco. 'All set,' he said with satisfaction as a smiling dark-skinned waiter arrived with coffee on an elegant red-lacquered tray.
Karen poured coffee into tall mugs decorated in patterns of reds and yellows. 'Pretty,' she said, admiring them rather absently, still thinking about Jean. 'Cream?'
Saul shook his head. 'Black, please.' He sat back and held up his mug to examine. 'Yes, the Mexicans are great with pots. A lot of the stuff you see is from the villages but its all very cottage-industry. If they could step up production, hire assistants, they could raise their standard of living quite dramatically. As it is they can't produce the stuff in large enough quantities to make it economically viable.'
Karen looked at the dark, clever face of the man sitting opposite. 'Perhaps they like their life better as it is,' she said. 'Money isn't everything.'
He shrugged. 'It helps,' he said, and she knew the subject was closed.
Acapulco was all that Karen had heard and read about it—a perfect playground for the rich and famous. Golden sun, golden sands, tanned bodies skimming across the blue water on skis and sailboards or lying back behind the creamy bow-waves of speed-boats or lounging on the d
ecks of luxury yachts. Their hotel towered above the bay, white as icing sugar against the dark green of hills and pale blue sky behind it.
Karen's room was on the sixth floor with a view across the bay and furnished with every possible detail that would make for comfort and convenience. A quick look round showed her a plump bed with a throw-over cover in the characteristic reds and yellows of an Aztec design. An easy chair stood near the long window. A white fitment ran all along one side of the room, with vanitory unit, T.V., writing desk, a small fridge. The other side of the room was lined with built-in cupboards and closets.
'You'll be O.K. here?' Saul followed the porter into the room without asking her permission. 'It was the best I could do at short notice—there aren't very many single rooms.'
'It's very impressive—every home comfort, in fact.' Karen walked across to the window and looked down across the greenery to the beach below, where a cluster of straw-thatched shelters nestled among the palm trees. 'Isn't this the room I was intended to have, then?'
'No. You and Ben were booked in at one of the other hotels. But now you're in my care I want you under my eye here.' He came up behind her and placed both his hands on the window-frame, and although he wasn't touching her she felt that his arms were round her and her breath caught in her throat.
'You don't have to look after me,' she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the scene below the window. 'I'm quite used to looking after myself. I'm twenty-three, you know. I've held down a job for five years and I speak enough Spanish to get by here. Please don't feel responsible for me.'
'A very pretty speech.' His voice was gently mocking. 'And I'm sure you're a very efficient young lady. Nevertheless, I've brought you here and I shall see you come to no harm. There will be a lot of males around at this conference, and most of them won't have brought their wives with them. You're a very lovely woman, Miss Karen Lane, as you well know, and the situation might have its hazards. I have a plan that will save us both quite a spot of possible trouble and embarrassment.'
Acapulco Moonlight Page 6
