He filled a cup and passed it to her, and she could not help wondering how many other women he had made coffee for at this hour of the morning - and under what circumstances. She pushed the thought quickly away and drank the scalding liquid so quickly that she choked.
He patted her back, and hastily she moved away.
"If you feel too tired, give it up and go to bed," he said.
"You know you don't mean that!"
He grinned. "You're right!"
"Then leave me alone to get on with it. I can always sleep on the plane going back to Rio tomorrow."
"You can't. I've got more dictation for you."
She glanced at him and, seeing he was quite serious, laughed. "Then I'll sleep when we get back to England!"
He drained his coffee and set down the cup. "One thing I am going to do when we get home is make you a present of some shares in Langlands. You'll have earned them, Philippa, whether we land this contract or not."
He left the room and she heard his footsteps cross the hall and mount the stairs. In the silence that followed she stared at the paper in her typewriter and a tear splashed on to one of the keys. "If this is what it means to be a career woman," she thought, "you can keep it. I want a man in my arms, not dividends in my bank account."
Dawn had caressed the dark to pink before the last page was typed, and she went to the window and pulled aside the curtains, breathing in the cool air for a moment before crossing the hall to the staircase. She had to pass Lucas's room on the way and she hesitated, then pushed the folder with the new tender under his door where he would see it when he awoke.
In her own room she cast a longing eye at the bed before deciding that one hour's sleep would be worse than nothing. Instead she showered, changed into fresh clothes and went downstairs again.
Breakfast was already being served when she entered the morning-room and Senhora Guimaraes rang for fresh coffee and said her husband was showing Lucas around the estate.
"It's a pity you have seen nothing while you were here," the Senhora said. "I hope you will be back again."
"I doubt it."
"But if Mr Paget gets the contract…"
"I may not be working for him by then."
The dark eyes were curious. "I would have said he is an excellent person for whom to work. He is not a man one would ever find boring."
"He's an excellent employer," Philippa said stiffly.
"He is not your employer when you look at him. If I am wrong, I apologise."
The cup in Philippa's hand trembled and she set it down. "It's not how I look at him that's important. It's how he looks at me. And as far as Mr. Paget is concerned I'm just his secretary."
The woman sighed gustily. "Men are blind. It is the women who must make them see."
Philippa nodded, not trusting herself to reply. The sleepless night she had spent made it difficult for her to think clearly. Her brain was a whirl of figures and data and the last thing she wanted was a discussion about Lucas and what she felt for him.
Quickly she swallowed the rest of her coffee, and pleading packing still to be done, returned to her room.
She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes showed a misting of tears and heavy shadows from lack of sleep. Was she so transparent that a stranger knew in one day where her heart had been given? Darn these emotional Latins! There was a lot to be said for English reticence.
Angrily she collected her belongings and dumped them into her case. But she had packed too clumsily and the lid would not close. Muttering, she tipped everything out on the bed and started again. The envelope Senhora Guimaraes had given her to deliver to Roland, slipped to the floor, its contents half spilled out and as she picked it up she found herself looking at a creased letter and the back of a photograph. There was foreign writing on both sides of the letter and as she returned it to its envelope she idly turned over the photograph.
At the sight of the face staring back at her, she knew a physical sense of shock. The strength left her body and she sank to the bed. Why was Roland carrying a picture of Maya ?
She looked at the envelope again and slowly, disliking herself for what she was doing but determined to do it, she took out the letter and read it. Her knowledge of Portuguese was negligible but she could make out a few words - enough to tell her she was not holding a business letter or social acknowledgement - but a passionate display of love.
"Are you ready, Philippa?" Lucas was calling from outside her door. "The helicopter's leaving in fifteen minutes."
Hastily she stuffed the letter and photograph in the envelope and put it into her handbag.
"I'm almost ready," she said, and squashed her clothes back in the case, uncaring of the way they would crease.
The return journey to Rio held no memory for her. All her thoughts were centred on the photograph and letter, and all it implied. Roland and Maya. The two names hammered in her brain. Why should they both have denied knowing each other - when they were obviously on terms of intimacy?
Thinking about it, she could see why Maya did not want Lucas to suspect she had once been in love with the man who was now his keenest business competitor. What was less clear was why Roland had pretended. After all, he knew it would not matter to herself if he had had a love affair with another woman, yet he had not only tried to make her believe he was on superficial terms with Maya, but that he actually disliked her.
Or was his dislike real? Had Maya thrown him over for someone else? Even this did not account for his secrecy about her. No matter how she puzzled over it, Philippa could make no sense of his behaviour and instead began to concentrate on Maya again.
The woman had gone out of her way to stress to Lucas that Roland had a roving eye and that it was attracted to Philippa. She had also built up an elaborate pretence of barely knowing Roland, and one would only go to such lengths if there was a present to hide as well as a past.
Of course - that was the answer. Maya and Roland had not discarded each other. Their love affair was still going on and it was Roland himself who wanted to hide this fact.
Determined for Lucas not to learn of his past and use it against him, he had felt that the only way to ensure Philippa's silence was to pretend he still loved her. Philippa stirred in her seat. This did not ring true either. Roland knew perfectly well that as long as his mother was alive, his secret was safe.
Again Philippa was back where she had started: unable to find any sense in either Maya's or Roland's behaviour, But there must be a reason.
Suddenly it seemed to her that Lucas was the key to the whole situation. Lucas and the contract for building the dam!
Feeling as though she were Maigret coming towards the end of a case, she forced herself to think logically.
Roland was pretending to be in love with her in order to make Lucas have doubts about her loyalty. She burned with shame as she remembered the things she had said to Lucas when he had asked her not to see the man who was his main competitor. Hard on this thought came another. Why did Roland want Lucas to doubt her loyalty? The answer was so obvious she was disgusted for not seeing it before: she was meant to be the scapegoat. There was no need to ask herself for what. The answer was as clear as the blue sky she could see through the window of the aircraft. Roland - despite his assertion that the contract was already his - had not been as sure of it as he had pretended, and had decided - by fair means or foul - to make sure no one else undercut him in price. Heaven alone knew what means he had used to discover what his other competitors were doing, but meeting Philippa again that night in the garden had shown him an easy way of finding out what Lucas had in mind.
She tried to recollect the questions he had asked her about Lucas that first evening, but all she could remember was that she had made it plain she never gossiped about her employer. Was it then that Roland had decided to use Maya in order to pump Lucas, or had Maya herself been the one to suggest it? The answer did not matter either way. Only the outcome was important.
Philippa glan
ced at the man by her side, wondering what he would say if he knew what she was thinking.
The plane lurched and burning ash from the cigarette in Lucas's hand scorched her leg. With a muttered apology he dabbed at it.
"Another pair gone," he said with mock resignation. "You'll have to put it on your expense account!"
She smiled, but the accident - so trivial in itself - had done more than spark a ladder in her tights. It had sparked off a train of thought that made everything horrifyingly clear.
She knew why Roland had put in a second bid for the contract - a bid considerably lower than the one Lucas had worked so hard to produce. She looked at
Lucas. Would he think her crazy if she told him she was convinced Maya had copied out the prices and given them to Roland? The first thing to have was proof, and her only answer was a bottle of nail varnish…
Yes, there was no doubt of it. Maya had deliberately laddered her tights in order to get Philippa out of the room and so give herself time to copy out the figures in the folder on the desk.
She glanced across the aisle to where her handbag rested on an empty seat. All she had to do was show Lucas the letter from Maya to Roland.
She leaned towards her handbag, stopping as Lucas touched her arm and pointed to the light that had flashed on at the end of the cabin.
"We're coming in to land," he said. "Fasten your seat-belt."
As she did so the whine of the engines increased and they started their descent towards Rio. The warmth of the rising air made the plane lurch and she clutched the side of her seat and desperately hoped she would not be sick. Warm fingers clasped hers and she opened her eyes to see Lucas's face almost touching her own.
"Relax," he said in her ear. "It's not so bad if you relax."
Her fear ebbed away, and though the plane jolted like a yo-yo on a string she was only conscious of Lucas's hand holding hers.
"I'll talk to him when we get back to the hotel," she comforted herself. Then concentrated on forgetting her nausea.
With no Customs examination they left the airport within minutes of touch-down and were soon speeding along the coast road. Lucas wound down the windows and the air, though warm, seemed refreshingly cool against her flushed cheeks. Ahead she recognised their hotel and her tension returned as they came to a stop and she walked ahead of him into the lobby.
She waited while he collected some mail, then together they went up in the elevator. Glancing at him surreptitiously, she was surprised to see him watching her with an unusually serious expression.
"If you weren't my secretary," he said, "I wonder what I'd have felt about you if I'd met you?"
She held her breath as she waited for him to continue. But he said no more, and she blinked quickly to hold back the tears. There would be time enough for crying later…
In their sitting-room she turned to him, her voice breathless. "There's something I must tell you."
"Can't it wait? I'd like to wash first."
"I want to tell you now. I've -"
The telephone bell drowned her next words and automatically she picked the receiver up, her body tensing as Maya's voice came over the line.
"Is that you, Miss Smith?"
"Yes. Do you want -"
"I want to talk to you. Alone. It's extremely urgent." The voice rushed on before Philippa could say anything. "Don't tell Lucas you're coming to see me. Make some excuse to get out of the hotel and come to my house at once"
The line went dead and Philippa shakily replaced the receiver.
"Who was it?" Lucas asked.
"It was for me… a personal call."
"Obviously," he said icily, and went on looking at her. "You said you had something to tell me."
Still puzzling over Maya's call she had to force herself to listen to him. Why was the woman so distraught? What had happened to make it imperative she see her at once ?
"Well?" he said again. "I'm waiting."
"Later," she murmured. "Have a - have a wash first… I want to go out and get something before the shops close for lunch."
Not caring what he thought, she picked up her bag and ran down the corridor.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was not until the taxi set Philippa down outside Maya's large, white stone house facing one of Rio's most secluded beaches, that she wondered what she was doing here. She had mistrusted the woman long before finding the photograph, and the mysterious call had increased rather than lessened her dislike of her.
Nervously she rang the door bell, and a dark- skinned maid, showed her into a formal drawing- room furnished with ornate gilt furniture.
Maya rose from a brocade settee and glided forward like some dangerous animal, the pale face and lithe body - clad in a skin-tight, leopard-patterned trouser suit - heightening the jungle illusion.
"I believe you've got something that belongs to me," she said, holding out her hand. "A letter and a photograph."
Surprise robbed Philippa of the ability to pretend. "How do you know?"
"Roily discovered it was missing last night and remembered taking it with him to the Guimaraes ranch. He phoned them this morning and was told it had been given to you. Come on, Miss Smith, let me have it."
"No! I intend to show it to Lucas."
"I thought so!" The words came out on a hiss. "It's a good thing I rang you when I did. I was going to meet you off the plane but decided it wouldn't be wise. Roily was afraid you would tell Lucas about the letter when you were travelling back, but I had a bet with him that you wouldn't. Women like to do things dramatically, and I was sure you'd wait till you were alone with him before going into your little act."
"I've no need to act, senhora. All I need do is give him the letter and photograph, and let him judge them for himself."
"And when he's seen them, what conclusion do you think he'll reach about you ?"
Philippa's eyes widened. "What have / got to do with it?"
"As much as I have. I may be Rolly's ex-girl-friend, but you're his ex-fiancee!"
At the look on Philippa's face. Maya laughed. "You're surprised I know, aren't you ?"
"It doesn't make any difference," Philippa said. "You can tell Lucas what you like about me. The only thing I care about is for him to know what you are! A thief who took his new costings to another man!"
"My, my, quite the little heroine!" Maya's voice was sharp, its sultriness lost as pretence disappeared. "But I don't believe you're as brave as you sound. Nor do I believe you don't care if Lucas finds out you were going to marry Roily."
"I don't care!" Philippa affirmed. "I'm not important to Lucas."
"But your loyalty is. And he won't rate very highly when I've finished with you!"
"Then we'll both be in the same boat, won't we?"
""Ill be on dry land." Maya yawned, as though tired of the conversation. "The worst Lucas can think of me is that I had an affair with Roily. I'd rather he didn't know but it won't matter if he does. I can explain it easily. My husband was ill and I was lonely and unhappy. I started seeing Roily because he was English - because when I was with him and heard him speak, I could close my eyes and pretend I was with Lucas again."
Philippa listened with disgust. Women like Maya could muster an unbelievable talent for pretence. Seeing the pallor of the face opposite her and the tears shining in the dark eyes, she knew Lucas would find it hard to discount such a story.
"On the other hand," Maya continued, "you won't find it easy to talk your way out of the mess I'll put you in. After all, if you'd had any loyalty to Lucas you'd have told him you were once engaged to Roily!"
Philippa swallowed hard. Maya made it sound so easy. If Roland had been what he seemed - a tough, hard-hitting Englishman - she would have told Lucas the truth from the beginning. But her fear that he would tell Rodriguez, and that the story would leak to the press and thence to England, had forced her to remain silent. But she dared not admit this to Maya.
"You can do what you like," she said coldly. "All I'm concerned
with is telling him the sort of person you are!"
"He'll never believe I copied that specification. He'll think you did it because you still love Roily."
"I don't care what he thinks of me so long as he doesn't go on thinking of you!"
"You won't stop him doing that," Maya sneered. "Nor will you help him get the contract. So you've lost on both counts. He'll never be able to undercut Roily and you can't prevent him from marrying me.
Philippa looked at Maya with puzzlement. Her behaviour did not make sense, and it was important to know why. "When did you decide you wanted to marry Lucas ?" she asked.
"When I saw him again."
"Then why don't you want him to get the contract?" Maya looked away but Philippa was not to be put off. "You didn't want Lucas to know about you and Roily, did you? That's why Roily was able to blackmail you into getting him Lucas's new prices."
"Then why don't you want him to get the contract?" Maya looked away, but Philippa was not to be put off. "You are scared of Lucas finding out about you and Roily. That's why Roily was able to blackmail you into getting him those figures."
"You're a fool if you think Lucas would worry because I had a lover."
"It would worry him that you'd fallen for a man he dislikes and doesn't trust. So you see," she continued, "you're not on dry land after all. You're in the same boat as I am."
Philippa's hand was on the door when Maya slammed it shut and leaned against it. "There aren't only two women in the boat. There's a third one as well…"
There was something on Maya's face that told Philippa she had been unwise to feel any triumph.
"I know who Roily really is and that he doesn't want his mother to know he's alive. So if you tell Lucas anything about me, I'll make sure Mrs. Marsh finds out her son is in Brazil!"
"You couldn't be so heartless!"
Maya's smile was ugly. "All I need do is telephone a friend of mine in London and he'll go down to Turville immediately."
"Roland would never forgive you."
Maya giggled. It was a sound of pure animal pleasure that made Philippa want to retch. "I couldn't care less what Roland feels. He's in my past. Lucas is my future." She extended a slim hand. "The letter and the picture, please…"
Rachel Lindsay - Brazillian Affair Page 9
