Damn you, John!
He smiled. ‘Was he wrong?’ he asked, his voice suddenly silken. ‘Must I call and tell him he’s going to be in violation of the contract before the ink has had time to dry?’
Talia swallowed. ‘No. I can manage that, if you insist.’
His face grew grim. ‘I do.’
‘But there’s no need for me to stay here. Surely there are flats elsewhere…’
Logan put his hands on his hips. ‘I’m sure there are. But Sao Paulo is a huge city. And, like cities everywhere, it has its problems. I have no intention of worrying about the safety of a woman alone.’
Talia forced herself to take a deep breath. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said carefully. ‘But I’m used to taking care of myself. You wouldn’t have to be concerned with my—’
‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ he said coldly. ‘Brazil is our host country, and it’s my obligation to maintain the best relations possible. That means looking out for problems before they happen.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I’m perfectly capable of leading my own life. I don’t need anyone to watch out for me.’
Logan’s mouth twisted. ‘Don’t you?’ He reached out and clasped her shoulders so tightly that she felt the imprint of his fingers through her suit jacket. ‘You’re a long way from home.’ His eyes grew dark. ‘And whether you choose to admit it or not, Talia, you are very much a woman.’
Suddenly it seemed difficult to breathe. He was going to kiss her, she thought, and her heart raced frantically like a wild thing in a trap. He was going to kiss her, he was going to take her in his arms and she would feel the heat of his body, taste the sweet mystery of his mouth…
Her eyelids grew heavy, her lashes began to fall as he drew her to him. Powerless to stop what would happen, she waited. But suddenly he made a strangled sound and his hands fell away from her.
‘I’ll have my man get your luggage,’ he said in a rough voice. ‘Get some rest, Talia. We start tomorrow, promptly at nine.’
He took her hand and she stared down at it as he placed the room key in her palm, then folded her fingers tightly around it. They key, still bearing the warmth of his touch, pressed into her flesh.
When she looked up again, he was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
TALIA looked up from the papers stacked on her desk as the door to her office opened. Bianca, the young woman she’d hired to oversee the kitchen staff, stood in the doorway, a smile on her pretty face. ‘Lunch has just ended,’ she said in her precise, barely accented English. ‘It was a great success.’
Talia sat back and smiled. ‘Even the hot dogs?’
Bianca grinned. ‘Especially the hot dogs. I overheard Senhor Marquez telling Senhor Miller that he was reminded of a day in his youth when he was a student in your country and he went to a baseball stadium with some friends. He also said he would be delighted to do business with Miller International because a company that could make him remember his youth was one he would be happy to deal with.’
‘Terrific!’ Talia sighed. ‘Well, at least tomorrow’s an easy day. No visitors for lunch, no dinner guests…’
‘No. Just the usual morning coffee, choice of salad, hot meal or sandwiches at midday, followed by afternoon tea…’
Talia smiled. ‘The programme has worked out rather well, hasn’t it?’
‘Well?’ Bianca laughed. ‘I do not think any Miller employee has chosen to miss a meal since you arrived here a month ago, Talia. And if any more of my countrymen decide to sign contracts with Miller rather than with other firms, your government may declare you its secret economic weapon.’
‘You know what they say. The way to a man’s heart—’
‘Is through his stomach. So I have heard.’ The young woman winked as she began to go out through the door. ‘But who would have dreamed it was the way to corporate hearts as well, hmm? Adeus, Talia. At;aae logo.’
Talia smiled at her. ‘Goodbye to you, too. See you later,’ she replied in Portuguese.
Bianca’s teeth flashed in a smile. ‘Very good,’ she said. ‘Your accent improves every day. You learn quickly. Senhor Miller must be very pleased with you.’
Talia’s smile wavered. ‘I suppose so.’
The other woman looked at her in surprise. ‘You suppose so? Does he not tell you how well you have done?’
‘Not really.’ The women’s eyes met, and Talia flushed. ‘What I mean is, I don’t see him that often. I’m very busy, and he is, too.’
Bianca’s brows rose again. ‘But surely in the evening, after you both retire to the apartment—’
‘I don’t see him at nights at all,’ Talia said quickly. ‘My rooms are separate from his.’
‘I know that. I never meant to imply—’
Talia sighed. ‘You didn’t. I’m simply pointing out that we never see each other after business hours. I go to my rooms and he—he goes out for the evening. I suppose he has many friends in Sao Paulo…’
Her words trailed away and the other woman laughed softly. ’Sim,’ she said teasingly, ‘I should imagine he must. A man such as that would, indeed, have many “friends”, do you not think?’
There was no mistaking the meaning of Bianca’s words. Talia managed a smile, although it felt stiff on her lips, and she was annoyed that the implication should disturb her. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she said. ‘And now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.’
Bianca frowned. ‘Have I said something to upset you?’
‘No,’ Talia said quickly, and then she sighed. ‘No,’ she said more gently, ‘of course not. I’m just busy. I’m planning next week’s menus, and—’
The other woman nodded. ‘I understand. Desculpe, Talia, excuse me. I’ll let you get back to work.’
Talia smiled, but as soon as the door swung shut her smile faded. She stared at the closed door, then drew a sheaf of papers towards her and picked up her pen. She really did have a lot of work waiting; even though most of the kinks had worked out of the new dining programme, there were still some minor problems. And there were more and more meetings and client lunches to plan—Bianca helped with much of the workload, but there were always things that needed Talia’s supervision.
Still, she couldn’t seem to concentrate this afternoon. Words and numbers criss-crossed, grew blurred, until finally they made no sense at all. Talia sighed, tossed down the pen and swivelled her chair away from the desk and towards the window.
The street below was pleasant and tree-lined, quiet in the late hours of the afternoon. Beyond, she knew, were the hurrying crowds and jammed traffic that filled Avenida Paulista from morning to night, turning that immensely wide boulevard into the busiest street imaginable. But here, in the handsome streets of the garden district, was an oasis of peace and beauty.
Talia pushed back her chair, rose to her feet, and pressed her hands flat against the glass as she looked out. Had she really been in Brazil a month? Bianca had said so, and she supposed it was true. But it seemed almost impossible to believe. The time had passed quickly, days running into days with a swiftness that blurred them past meaning. Her job kept her on her toes from morning until night; it was the most time-consuming, challenging work she’d ever tackled, and she should have loved every second of it. Why, then, did she feel so empty?
Talia sighed and turned away from the window. Everyone was pleased with her work. She’d had a call from John Diamond only a couple of days ago, telling her that all the reports he’d seen had praised her to the skies.
‘What are you doing, sweetheart?’ he’d said with a chuckle that had sounded obscene even over the long-distance line. ‘You’ve got Logan Miller eating out of your hand, literally and figuratively. He loves the programme you’ve set up.’
Now, Bianca had told her the same thing. The only one who hadn’t said anything to her was Logan himself. Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
‘Nice job,’ he’d said after the first dinner she’d planned and hostessed in
his apartment, and then he’d turned away and left. She’d watched him walk to his bedroom and close the door. Only then had she finally climbed the staircase to her own rooms. Moments later, she’d heard the all too familiar hiss of the private lift and she’d known it meant that Logan was going out, despite the late hour.
‘Good work,’ he’d said yesterday, when she’d seen him in the dining-room at lunch.
Talia sighed as she slipped back into her chair and drew it up to the desk. What did she want, anyway? A handwritten note saying he was pleased with her work? A medal, a certificate, a…
A smile. A moment that wasn’t programmed into the work day, that wasn’t part of his appointment schedule…
And that, of course, was the last thing she was going to get from him. She had seen to that, the very first week she’d been here…
It was before she’d hired an assistant. Talia spent the day interviewing applicants for the job, and she was discouraged. The last interview ended just as a minor crisis over the next day’s menu developed. When finally she left her office, it was well past seven and she was dog-weary.
When the lift doors slid open, she was startled to find Logan waiting for her. The sight of him, in faded jeans and white cotton sweater, made her heart soar—and the realisation that it had angered her beyond all reason.
He smiled as she stepped into the living-room. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out a tall, frosted glass, ‘you look as if you need this.’
Talia took the glass warily. ‘What’s this?’
‘Not poison,’ he said laconically. ‘Take it, for God’s sake. It’s only a caipirinha.’
She hesitated. Every instinct told her to turn him down. But things had gone well between them the past few days; if he was holding out a peace offering, it would be foolish not to take it.
‘Thank you,’ she said finally, and she took a sip.
The aperitif, made of sugar-cane liquor, sugar and crushed lemons, was perfect: cold, dry, the taste ambrosial. Talia closed her eyes with pleasure. When she opened them again, Logan was smiling.
‘Good?’
She smiled in return. ‘Wonderful,’ she admitted.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘if I have to say so myself, I make a pretty mean caipirinha.’ His smile broadened. ‘Down here, I always unwind with one at day’s end.’ He stepped aside, and for the first time she saw past him to the window beyond. There was a drinks trolley drawn up beside the table, which was set, she saw, for two. ‘I thought you might join me and then we could have dinner together.’
Talia ran her tongue over her lips. ‘I—I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Thanks, but I’m really bushed, and—’
‘Talia.’ His voice was low. ‘You know you want to. Would it be so awful to admit it?’
‘That’s not so,’ she said quickly, turning to him. ‘Why would you think…?’
The look on his face silenced her. She had expected to see that arrogant certainty she’d seen before. Instead, she saw something else, something she couldn’t define.
He moved closer to her. ‘Why don’t you go on up and shower? My housekeeper’s laid everything out; all I have to do is heat things and I can do that while you change into something more comfortable. It’s supposed to turn cool later; I can build a fire and…’
So, she’d been right after all. There it was—not the arrogant look, but the arrogant confidence just the same. Logan Miller had forced her to take this job, he had forced her to live under his roof, and now he expected to force her to…to…
Even in her anger, she knew how ridiculous a thought that was. Logan had treated her with absolute decorum since her arrival in Brazil. As for the rest—he hadn’t forced her to tremble in his arms, she’d done that of her own volition. He’d kissed her, yes, but it had been she who’d moaned her dark desire into his mouth as his lips had moved over hers. And it was she who still conjured him up in her dreams each night, she who lay awake listening for the sound of footsteps outside her door, footsteps that never came…
‘Talia?’
His hand touched her cheek lightly as he brushed her hair away from her face. The feel of his hand was like the lick of a flame. Desire coursed through her, setting her senses ablaze. All she had to do was turn to him, lift her face for his kiss. His arms would close around her, his mouth would cover hers…
‘You’ve been working too hard, Talia. We both have.’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘The world won’t come to an end if you just let go for once and do what pleases you.’
Just let go for once… Desire fled, banished by a yawning darkness that terrified her. Nausea rose in her throat, and she swallowed against it. ‘Thank you, but I’ve already planned my evening.’ Her voice was cool as she pulled free of his hand. ‘I have some reading to do.’
‘You have to eat, don’t you? I thought—’
‘Yes, I can imagine. But I’m not interested.’
Logan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Not interested in what, Talia? Warmth? Friendship? A little honest feeling?’
‘How dare you be so presumptuous?’ she said, her voice trembling.
‘Or are you simply afraid to let yourself feel anything that might get in the way of the next step on that ladder you’re climbing?’
‘You don’t know anything about me, Logan Miller. You—’
He laughed bitterly. ‘You’re right, I don’t. You won’t let anyone get close enough to learn a damned thing about you. Hell, I doubt if you know the first thing about yourself.’
Talia’s eyes blazed with anger. ‘Thanks, but when I decide I need analysis, I’ll go to a professional.’
‘Are you too busy to look in the mirror? Or just too frightened?’
Anger sent a wash of colour to her cheeks. ‘That’s absurd. Just because I prefer my work to—to…’
A terrible coldness settled across his face. ‘You’re right,’ he said softly. ‘We both have work to do. Thank you for reminding me.’ Logan had turned away in dismissal. ‘Goodnight, Talia…’
After that, the living-room had always been empty when she’d arrived at the apartment at the end of the day. When they saw each other at the office, Logan was polite, even pleasant. But that was the way he treated all his employees. Talia told herself he’d given up; she told herself that that was fine with her.
But, finally, something had happened last night. It wasn’t anything much; she’d gone out for dinner with Bianca, to a little restaurant only a short distance away. When she’d returned, nose buried in a Portuguese-English grammar Bianca had lent her, she’d stepped, without looking, straight from the private lift into Logan Miller’s arms. The book had tumbled to the floor as he’d caught her to him.
‘Careful,’ he’d said with a little laugh. ‘You have to watch where you’re…’
His words had trailed away as his arms had tightened around her. Talia had felt the swift race of her heart, the answering gallop of his. For a few seconds, she’d let herself lean against him, trembling at the feel of his body pressed against hers. She’d heard the swift intake of his breath, and her pulse had rocketed. If he kissed her this time, if he tried to make love to her…
With a suddenness that stunned her, Logan had put her from him. ‘Sorry,’ he’d said, his face an indifferent mask, ‘I didn’t expect anyone to be in the lift.’
Talia had looked at him. He had been wearing a white dinner-jacket and dark trousers, and she’d felt as if a fist had clenched around her heart. Where was he going? And with whom?
‘It—it was my fault,’ she’d finally said. ‘I wasn’t watching where…’
He’d smiled politely, his smile the one she’d seen on his face when he walked through the sales offices: a little removed, very proper, and totally without meaning. ‘Excuse me, please, Talia. I’d love to chat, but I’m running late. See you at the office tomorrow.’
He’d stepped into the lift, still wearing that impersonal smile. She’d watched as the door had closed after him and then, very slowly, she’d walked up the stairs to
her rooms. Hours later, twisting sleeplessly in her bed, she’d finally heard the faint hum of the lift again. The bedside clock had read four in the morning as she’d pulled on her robe, then padded silently from her room.
Safely hidden in the shadows of the landing, Talia had watched as a light came on below and Logan had walked slowly through the living-room, his jacket draped over one shoulder, his hair tousled. A bitter taste had flooded her mouth as she’d caught the faint scent of some expensive perfume. Suddenly he’d paused, then turned slowly and stared up at the darkened hall where she’d stood. Her heart had turned over even though she’d known that he couldn’t see her. Then, decisively, he’d turned on his heel and gone to his own bedroom.
‘Talia?’
A knock on the half-opened door of her office startled her and brought her thoughts back to the present with a rush. Logan was standing in the doorway watching her. His face was expressionless.
‘Come in,’ she said, rising quickly to her feet. ‘I didn’t hear you. I was—I was busy. Please—sit down.’
‘I just wanted to tell you that the luncheon went exceptionally well.’
Her face lit as she sank back into her chair. ‘Did it? Bianca said she thought it had.’
A quick smile flitted across his face. ‘I’m going to have to start giving you a commission each time a new client signs with us,’ he said. ‘More and more, they compliment the meal rather than our sales brochures.’
She laughed softly. ‘Thanks. That’s nice to hear.’
‘In fact, things are going so well that we’re considering opening a small office in Rio de Janeiro. Nothing very big, mind you. Just a couple of salesmen and a few clerical people. If we go through with it, we’ll take over a house near Copacabana Beach.’
Talia nodded. ‘I’ve heard of it.’
Logan grinned. ‘Yes, I thought you might have. The thing is, the place is a bit antiquated—it may cost a bundle to redo. The bathrooms have to be gutted, and the kitchen’s a disaster. Well, that’s what the engineers say.’
‘You won’t need a kitchen for the office, will you?’
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