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An obedient mouse.
Catarina Elena Teresa Mendes, her head bowed, was tall and skinny, all but lost in the folds of an ugly brown dress that hung halfway to her ankles. Her face, what little he could see of it, was unremarkable. Her hair was mouse-brown and so tightly braided around her head that he half wondered if it wouldn’t tug her eyes from their sockets.
Jake breathed a little easier. How tough would it be, watching over a girl like this? Finding her a suitable husband might be a little difficult, unless he could come up with a way to make her look a bit more attractive. From what he could see, that wasn’t going to be easy, but her inheritance would help. He’d seen New York heiresses with looks that could stop a clock land outstanding husbands.
All he had to do was contact a few people and—Damn, in his anger, he’d all but forgotten that he knew a guy at the Brazilian Embassy. Not well—they’d met at a couple of charity dinners, played a little racquetball—but in New York that was enough reason to phone him, invite him for a drink, tell him about Catarina, get her invited to a few parties.
Jake felt his remaining tension drain away. He’d fly home tonight, arrange for an apartment for the girl, hire a companion to watch over her, phone Lucas and get things moving.
“ Mendes,” he said pleasantly. The mouse didn’t respond. She didn’t even look up. Jake raised his eyebrows. “Does she speak English?”
Estes and Mother Elisabete engaged in some rapid-fire Portuguese. Then the nun shrugged her shoulders.
“Very little, I am afraid. But rest assured, Senhor Ramirez, Catarina unde
rstands what is expected of her and she will be most cooperative. Isn’t that right, Catarina?”
A jerk of the head, though the girl’s eyes were still downcast. At least she’d understood enough English for that. Silence descended on the room. Jake cleared his throat. He felt like an idiot…or like a man buying a car. Was he supposed to say something in lieu of kicking the tires?
“I assume you have an appropriate place for her to live, Senhor Ramirez?”
Not yet, but why mention that? The sooner he got this idiotic scheme rolling, the sooner he could say goodbye to Catarina Mendes and hello to the two strangers who were his brothers.
“Senhor?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, “of course.”
Mother Elisabete nodded and rose to her feet. “In that case, you may take her.”
Jake blinked. “Now?”
“Now. She is twenty-one today. We don’t have facilities for girls older than that.”
“I see.” Jake cleared his throat again. “Well, then, Mendes? Senhor Estes? Shall we—?”
“I’m staying for dinner,” Estes said hurriedly. “Mother and I have things to discuss. I’ll take a taxi back to town.”
Jake nodded. It looked as if he was on his own with the mouse. “Uh, if you’d tell Mendes that, uh, that it’s time for her to leave…”
The girl reached for a leather satchel behind her chair. He reached for it, too, and their hands brushed. She jerked her hand from his as if she’d been burned.
Jake smiled politely. “Sorry.”
The girl mumbled something in Portuguese. Mother Elisabete hissed; Estes made a choking sound. Why? Were they both that surprised the girl would apologize? That was what it had been, wasn’t it? An apology? What else would such a docile child offer in such a difficult situation?
Estes shook his hand, said something to the girl. So did Mother Elisabete. The girl never raised her eyes, not even after the same nun who’d admitted them walked them to the front door and shut it behind them.
Jake tossed the girl’s satchel in the back of the SUV and opened her door. She got in, strapped on her seat belt, all without saying a word or looking at him. Poor kid. She was probably terrified.
He waited until they were speeding along the narrow road that led down the mountain.
“ Mendes. I know this must all seem strange…”
No answer. No flick of her head in his direction.
“We’re going to Rio. To my hotel.”
Still no response. He could hardly blame her.
