Betrayed(19)

“That isn’t what I meant,” he said in a quiet voice.

“But you want me to admit my love life is a mess.”

“Now you’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“I thought last night would have made you realise what an emotional dwarf you’re dealing with.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Forget last night; I told you more than I should.”

“Jesus Christ! Your self-esteem really has hit the bottom? What the hell’s going on?”

Kat glared defiantly. She hated pity, despised solicitousness. She said, rigid, “I can face reality. I don’t need sympathy.”

“Is that what you call it? I would hardly put my feelings into that category.”

Katrina had the impression she was falling into a trap. She didn’t care. “So, you would call it what? Charity? Señor, I don’t need that either. I give charity, I don’t accept it.” She spun away.

He caught her by the shoulders. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to my room. Any objections?”

“My God! You’ve really no idea what you’re about, have you? You put yourself on a pedestal that most men wouldn’t have the heart to climb.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough climbing for most men? You climbed right inside me last night, or don’t you remember?” Kat swung away, her eyes closed to shut his image away; determined not to let him see the effect he had, determined not to let tears spill.

“Wait! There’s something else.”

“Sexual favours? I told you, last night was a one-night-stand. Passion didn’t come into it; no emotion, a simple fulfilment of a bodily function that will never happen again.”

“I seriously doubt any of that.” His lips became thin and tight. “But I was thinking more of your creative genius. I want to salvage the designs our people made a botch, perhaps bring different fabric into the equation. You told me for the designs to work they needed a good quality silk.”

“I thought I’d already explained. I’m not for sale. I come with the territory, that’s all. I’ve enough on.”

“But if territories change. What then? Would you still be so adamant about not working on the designs?”

“Territories?” She eyed him, suddenly nervous. The image of the file in the attaché case loomed large. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“We need get around a couple of tricky points, but things are on the move.”

“The decision has been made? Is the contract going through if the points can be cleared?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“When will you know?”

“A couple of small things need sorting. But if everything’s okay, we’ll want your input over here and in the UK. Call your post a roving design consultant, creating overall ideas, others doing the leg-work.”

Kat felt an overwhelming rush of satisfaction. She could almost have hugged him. “Shall I have to call you, sir?”

He grinned. “If you really want to. So I presume you’re prepared to work on our stuff if things turn out okay?”

***

His cell-phone beeped. Dawn had not yet broken and Rafael yawned sleepily as he flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Rafael, how are you keeping? We haven’t spoken for ages.”

Rafael frowned. Eduardo Garcia never phoned him, not unless he wanted to use him, or haul him over the coals. He said with caution, “I’m fine, I guess. You?”

“Great, great.”

“So what are you after?”

“You make me sound avaricious …” Eduardo gave a laugh. “Why should I be after something?”

“Because you never call otherwise.

Another laugh. “Well I must admit I have been thinking…”

“I thought so. What are you after this time?”

“Well I wondered about that project of yours… I might be able to do you a favour after all.”

“Is that so?”

“Well my accountant tells me I have a little spare cash, and I got to thinking… My old friend Rafael wanted some help. Perhaps I can be the one to help him out…”

“You are way too late, Eduardo. The offer is no longer open.”

A pause… “What do you mean?”

“The offer is withdrawn. Las Modas Ibéricas is going ahead with the negotiations after all.”

“I thought your Papá was not interested.”

“He finally recognized a good thing when he saw it. The same as you by the sound of it…” Rafael closed the phone, suppressing a grin. He’d wanted to do something like that forever. Stick that where it hurts, Eduardo.

***

Kat awoke to the noise of banging of pots and pans. Daybreak filtered through the window. She slipped on a top, a pair of culottes, ran a brush through her hair and made her way to the kitchen.

Most dress designs had been fairly easy to change; an added sketch here, a note there. One had needed a rethink because of handling the fabric, but even that hadn’t been too much effort. A little work had seen them mostly finished. The proof would be in the made-up outfits, but instinct told her they would give the effect she hoped for.

Rafael put saucepans away as she opened the kitchen door. Some were still on the floor. She said. “Having problems?”

“They were in a damn stupid place, piled on top of each other. It would happen, whoever opened the cupboard door.”

“But you copped it.”

“It isn’t funny. It bloody well hurt… I woke you I suppose.”

She yawned. “Yes! You’re the guilty one. What are you doing up so early?”

Rafael inspected one of the pans. The enamel had chipped. “I shall have to leave Aliaga a note about this. I hate damaged kitchenware, damn unhygienic.” He lifted the kitchen bin and dropped the pan in. “I wanted an early start. I’ve a few things to do.” He rubbed his head. “Have I been cut?”

“Don’t be such a wimp.” She examined him but there was nothing and she waved him away. “I’ll make breakfast, whilst you put them away. How come you didn’t get Aliaga to do it for you?”

“It’s early. I didn’t want to put her out.” He tossed a key to her. “If you really want to help, you can fetch the decanter from the study and pack it for me. It’s on the writing desk. I need Aliaga to take it into Calpe for repair. The silver base is damaged.”

Kat unlocked the room and found the decanter on the desk. She had not been in since her fall. She paused, glanced over her shoulder to check for Rafael then closed the door quietly. She nervously opened the embossed leather attaché case, and pulled out the file. Would she identify the sticking points? Could she pass it on to Dad? Kat heard a sound and swivelled around.

Rafael stood by the door watching. He said quietly, “Kat?”

“I spotted the file with Dad’s name on,” she stammered.

“And concluded you had certain rights?” He walked over and took the file from her, and leaned with both hands on the desk. “Shall I open it? Shall I read to you? There’s nothing to cause excitement. What did you think might be there?”

Kat shook her head miserably. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered. I was just curious.”

“We know what happened when the cat got curious,” Rafael laid the file down. “I came to ask if you’d like to tag along.”

“Tag along?”

“You have a good stomach?”

Kat’s head was in a jumble. “Why would I need a good stomach?”

“I’ve arranged a trial-run on a yacht for the day. I’m thinking of buying a similar one. I thought I’d better have a test first.”

“Why on earth do you want me to go? I won’t be any help. I’ll be in the way.”

“For the experience. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“I will?”

“Come. Grab some things and we’ll go.”

“What sort of things? What will I need?”

He pulled a face. “Just something you feel easy in. Don’t wear your Sunday-best though.”

***

The powerful Lamborghini pulled to a halt at the top of the ridge, kicking dry soil into clouds. Rafael could see for miles. He jumped out of the car and shielded his eyes. From the scrub of the middle distance through to the horizon it shimmered with heat.

He glanced toward Kat. She peered through the car window, still awkward about being caught in his study. He supposed he would have done the same, had he been in the same position. She ought to have guessed he didn’t keep important stuff at home, though.

God, what a dilemma the woman was! Half the time, he felt his brain was exploding into his trousers. He had to get over this juvenile obsession somehow. He couldn’t help wanting her, but he’d made a promise.