Calum gave a slow smile and Elaine had the distinct feeling that he could read her like an open book. A book that he’d read many times before and knew the text by heart? Was he that experienced with women, then?
‘Of course. And you still have work to do, don’t you?’
She thought she detected a touch of irony in his voice and said a hasty goodnight. He answered and she went on through the house, letting herself out of a side-door to cross the courtyard to her room. Sitting down at the desk, she opened the folders but found that she couldn’t concentrate. Going to the window, she looked across at the house. Had Calum gone straight to bed, or was he having his nightcap? And who was he thinking of as he held the delicate crystal glass between long, capable fingers—herself or Tiffany Dean? A car went by on its way to the garage, and she recognised Francesca at the wheel. Everyone, it seemed, was busy tonight.
The following evening there was to be a party for the Brodey Corporation’s local employees at their wine-lodge in Oporto. Elaine had been there once already to decide on the table layout, and had asked for a car to be available to take her there again early in the morning. At the specified time she came out of the house, dressed in her usual working outfit of trousers, with a sweater over a cotton shirt and her hair tied back in a thick plait, expecting to find one of the staff waiting to take her. Instead she found Calum standing by his car, and without his chauffeur, too.
He gave her his usual politely friendly smile. ‘I’m going to the wine-lodge myself, so I thought I’d take you with me.’
‘Thank you. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.’
‘Not at all.’
He opened the passenger door for her and Elaine put on her dark glasses against the glare of the sun, which was still low on the horizon this early. She found that being alone with Calum disturbed her a little, so she quickly made some comment on the weather when he joined her and they chatted about nothing very much until they neared the town, when Calum had to concentrate on his driving. Elaine glanced at his hard profile—the high, lean cheekbones and strong, purposeful chin—trying to read the personality behind it. A very masculine kind of man, she thought. Standing no nonsense and probably quick to anger if he was crossed. She recognised the type. Neil had been in the Marines and many of his superior officers had been like that. Having spoken to Calum several times on the phone, she had already formed the opinion that he was authoritative, but actually meeting him when she had arrived in Portugal had been something of a shock: she hadn’t expected anyone so young and so very good-looking.
She had quickly hidden her reaction, but supposed that many women must find him attractive; that he must be used to it. Involuntarily, she glanced into the back of the car, where Calum must have sat with Tiffany last night. What had they got up to? she wondered. Not much, of course, with the chauffeur there. But had he arranged to see the blonde girl again, to take her out to dinner as soon as he was free?
Elaine had hardly been out on a date since Neil had died, although there had been opportunities enough—and opportunities for far more than just a date. A grim look came to her face as she remembered some of the offers she’d received. And from Neil’s co-called friends, too.
‘Here we are.’ Calum pulled into the wine-lodge and glanced at her. ‘Is anything the matter?’
‘What? Oh, no. I was—miles away.’
He frowned. ‘It must be lonely for you here, I should have realised.’
‘Oh, no—please,’ she said in some alarm. ‘I’m fine, Mr Brodey. Really.’
He gave her one of his charming smiles. ‘Please call me Calum. Mr Brodey makes me feel on a par with my grandfather.’
She gave a polite murmur and got out of the car. Calum appointed one of the girls from the sale-room who spoke English to be her translator, and Elaine set to work to organise everything for that evening’s function.
Calum was busy in his own office there for most of the morning, but at about twelve he came to look for her. He found her at the huge doors of the lodge, where the wine-barrels were loaded and unloaded, supervising the arrival of all the chairs which they had hired for the evening, the same chairs that had been used at the palácio the previous day and which would be taken by lorry to the quinta tomorrow.
‘I’m going to have an early lunch, and I wondered if you’d care to join me.’
Elaine looked up from the clipboard she was holding, trying to hide her surprise, and gave him a smile which she hoped did not look harassed. When your client invites you to lunch, then you go, she reminded herself. ‘I’ll need to wash. Five minutes?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll be in my office.’
Finding Ned Talbot, the ex-head waiter she’d hired, Elaine explained and passed the job on to him, then quickly washed her hands, put on fresh lipstick, and joined Calum. He drove her down the steep hillside to the waterfront, to a café, one of several right on the riverside. They sat outside on a kind of pier, which jutted out over the river, at a table with a bright red cloth. The sun was hot even though it was only spring, and there was a continental atmosphere to their alfresco meal.
‘These places specialise in fish caught fresh this morning,’ Calum told her. ‘You mustn’t miss the opportunity to try some.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to translate the menu.’
He leaned closer, pointing with his finger as he went down the dishes. He was sitting opposite her and his knee brushed hers. She moved her legs aside but felt a frisson of sexuality that surprised and disturbed her. Even if he had been interested, even if he hadn’t already got his hands full with Francesca and Tiffany, this was no man for her. She wondered why he’d invited her to lunch—out of politeness, perhaps? But then she remembered his remark earlier about her being lonely. He’d asked her out of a sense of duty, then, taking pity on the poor widow they’d hired. Immediately she felt a fierce stab of anger. She neither wanted nor needed his compassion. She had her own business and her own life; no way was she to be pitied.
‘I’ll have that one,’ she said shortly, stabbing at the menu and cutting him off abruptly.
Calum glanced up, about to say something, but stopped short when he saw the flame of anger in her eyes. ‘Er—yes, of course. And I think we’ll have a vinho verde to go with it.’ Calling the waiter over, he gave the order, then glanced at her again.
But Elaine had regained her self-control now. There was just casual interest in her eyes as she pointed to the barcos rabelos with their cargoes of empty wine-barrels which she could see moored further along the river. ‘Do they ever sail, or are they just moored here all the time, for the tourists?’
‘Oh, yes, they still sail. Every year we have a race from the river-mouth back here to the main quay. All the port companies compete and there are great festivities in the town—lots of drinking and fireworks in the evening.’
He was watching her as he spoke, curiosity in his gaze, but she had herself well in hand and didn’t let him see into her soul again.
‘And do you ever win?’
He smiled. ‘It has been known. My cousins always come over for the race and we crew it with some men from the company.’
‘You race it yourselves?’ Elaine said in surprise, not having expected him to be the type and having to do some mental revision.
‘Why, yes. Grandfather always took us along as soon as we were