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Someone pushed past and he reached out a protective arm to shield her. Unexpectedly Carly suddenly felt very femininely weak and vulnerable. She wasn't used to men behaving protectively towards her.
'I'm with the event planning organization,' she explained.
'Ah, so you are responsible for this magnificent party we are enjoying?'
He was flattering as well as charming, Carly recognized.
'In part,' she agreed.
'And you are staying here, on board the yacht?'
'No, I'm—' Carly broke off as she saw both Sarah and the maître d' edging towards her. 'Please excuse me,' she apologized to him. 'But I must get back to work.'
'Mmm, I see Igor was chatting you up. Mariella won't like that,' Sarah warned Carly, when she joined her, having dealt with the maître d'. 'She's already got him marked down as husband number four. Mind you, she'll have her work cut out, because she certainly isn't the only woman who's hoping for a legal right to his billions. God, I hate these dos,' Sarah complained. 'Sometimes I wonder why the hell I don't just give in my notice and go home.'
'Why don't you?' Carly asked her
'Let's just say there's a man there who I can't have,' Sarah told her bleakly. 'I need another drink. I'll be back in a minute... '
Carly was standing with her back to him, watching Sarah hurry away from her, when Ricardo finally man aged to reach her.
'Lost your new admirer?'
Carly stiffened, and then turned round reluctantly to face him.
Before she could defend herself, he continued savagely, 'what the hell possessed you to let him buy you that? You look like a tart,' he told her mercilessly. 'Or was that the idea? It certainly looked as though he was doing a brisk business in selling you on to his friends.'
Carly's face burned. 'You are despicable,' she told him. 'And for your information—'
'Ricardo, darling—there you are!'
Although she was delighted to have Ricardo's attention removed from her, Carly couldn't help wishing that the woman claiming it was not Mariella—especially when she saw the way Mariella was staring at her outfit.
Fortunately, though, before she could say anything Sarah returned. Equally fortunately, she immediately realized what was happening and adroitly came to Carly's rescue, exclaiming, 'Mariella! Carly hasn't been able to stop singing your praises for being so kind to her and saving her so much embarrassment. I told her that it is typical of you to be so generous, and that you'd understand immediately how she felt about having her suitcase stolen. I knew you wouldn't mind if I let her borrow those old things you told me to put to one side for the charity shop. Remember? You said they were too big for you... '
Was it the weight of false sentiment and sugar in Sarah's paean of praise that miraculously squashed the hostility in Mariella's gaze? Carly wondered cynically. Suddenly she became all gracious smiles.
'Of course. I love helping other people—everyone knows that. Although I must say you are rather too big to fit into my things, my dear. Of course I am very slim,' she added smugly, before ignoring Carly to turn to Ricardo and say prettily, 'Ricardo, why don't I intro duce you to a few more people...?'
As Mariella drew Ricardo away Sarah exhaled and apologized to Carly.
'I hope you didn't mind me saying that—only she looked as though she was about to create a bit of a scene... '
'No, I didn't mind at all,' Carly assured her truthfully. But she would have loved to see Ricardo's face if Mariella had claimed ownership of her outfit when he had been in the middle of insulting it. Although he hadn't merely insulted the outfit, had he? He'd insulted her as well.
She didn't care what he thought about her, Carly assured herself. After all, she knew the truth and she knew that he was wrong. At least this way, even if she couldn't deny or ignore the physical, sexual effect he had on her, she knew she would be safe from any risk of becoming emotionally attracted to him.
Not, of course, that she had been in any danger of that.
It seemed as if the evening was never going to end, Carly thought wearily. The last of the guests had finally gone, but she and the others were still cleaning up.
'Look, why don't you go? There's nothing more for you to do here,' Jeff the florist said in a kind voice.
'It's my responsibility to stay until everything is packed up,' Carly told him.
'You don't think that anyone else would stay around this long, do you?' He grinned at her and shook his head. 'We're perfectly capable of sorting what's left, and besides...' He was looking past her and she turned her head to see what he was looking at.
Her heart gave a sudden heavy thud as the door of the car which had drawn up a few yards away opened and Ricardo got out.
The last time she'd seen him he had been deep in conversation with a stunning redhead whom she was sure she had heard murmuring something about going back to her hotel suite with her. So what was he doing back here now?
Why should the fact that he was striding so purpose fully towards her make her legs and her will-power quiver with weakness? He had insulted her in the most offensive way possible, and yet here she was letting his sexuality and, even worse, her own reaction to it, get to her.
Maybe she should adopt a different and more modern attitude. After all, she had heard plenty of women say openly and unashamedly that they were up for having sex with a man without wanting or needing any kind of emotional connection with him. Surely that kind of relationship was exactly what would suit her best?
'It's gone three a.m. and we leave for New York in the morning,' he told her curtly.
'You go, Carly,' Jeff repeated. 'We can easily finish up here now.'
It seemed that she didn't have any choice. Turning aside, Carly went to retrieve the canvas holdall she had bought earlier to hold her modest new purchases.
She watched with a certain sense of grim satisfaction as Ricardo frowned and took it from her.
'Before you say anything,' she warned him coolly, when they were out of Jeff's hearing, 'I didn't have to sell my body to buy either the bag or its contents. What happened to the redhead, by the way?' she asked unkindly as they walked back to the car. The fact that Ricardo was a potential client had been overwhelmed by her still smarting pride. 'Didn't she come up to your expectations—or was it you who didn't come up to hers?'
'Neither. She left with the man with whom she arrived—and even if she hadn't I don't take those kinds of risks with my health,' Ricardo answered pointedly.
He was opening the car door for her, but Carly paused to turn round and demand angrily, 'Meaning what? That I do? Isn't the discovery that you've already made one offensive and insulting error of judgment about me enough?'
Without waiting for his response she got into the car, ignoring him as she reached for the seatbelt, and continuing to ignore him when he walked round the car, climbed into the driver's seat and started the car engine.
They reached the villa. Carly opened the car door and got out without waiting for Ricardo to help her.
The pink-washed building was bathed in a soft rose glow from the artfully placed nightscape lighting, which illuminated both the villa and its gardens. Rose pink— the color of romance. A small, painful smile twisted her lips.
'Carly.'
She stopped walking and turned to look as Ricardo caught up with her.
'Why didn't you tell me that the outfit you were wearing belonged to Mariella?'
'Perhaps I didn't want to spoil your fun. You were obviously enjoying thinking the worst of me,' she answered sharply.
'You can't blame me for making entirely logical assumptions. You're a woman in her twenties with a career, therefore logically you must have a bank account. Having a bank account means that you have access to credit cards, bank loans, a wide variety of different ways of borrowing money in an emergency—as this—' he indicated the bag he was now carrying '—proves. And yet you chose to ask me for a loan.'
'Logical assumptions? You've already as good as admitted that
the assumptions you've made about me, far from being logical, are based entirely on your own pre conceived ideas and personal hang-ups. The truth is that you know nothing whatsoever about my life or my circumstances. If the women you mix with are the type who are happy to exchange sex for a few gaudy trinkets and a wardrobe of designer clothes, then I'm afraid that so far as I'm concerned it says just as much about your judgment and morals as it does about theirs.'
'Really? Well, my judgment told me that you were more than ready to have sex with me until you found out that sex was all you would be getting. Miraculously, now that you know that, suddenly you have all the money you need to replace your stolen clothes. Oh, and a word of warning. That gang are notorious for wanting value for their money. They'll pass you round from hand to hand and have all they want of you. You may not find it worth the pay.'
No one had ever made her feel so furiously angry. She was so angry, in fact, that for once she forgot her normal caution and instead burst out, 'you are so wrong. The only reason I was ready to have sex with you was because I wanted you—but, luckily for me, I wanted to retain my self-respect more. And as for my bank account and my new clothes—I asked you for a loan because I have had to empty my bank account to...to make my parents a... a loan. I do not own a credit card, since I disapprove of their punitively high rates of interest, and there wasn't time for me to realize any of my assets.'
