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'Even stars in the sky?' Quincy demanded, and he bowed.
'Whatever my lady wishes,' he assured her, but added: 'I am sure Mr Aldonez does not need to look at the sky for stars while he has my lady's beautiful eyes to look into.'
Quincy began to giggle and he moved away, laughing. Joe sipped his champagne, watching her. 'Not so nervous, any more?' he asked and, with a surprised face, she shook her head. Although the hotel was so luxurious and stately she found it had a relaxed atmosphere which made her feel at home almost at once.
'When you come to New York, you'll find the Plaza very much like this,' Joe told her as they looked through the menu and chose their meal. 'I prefer hotels like the Plaza to the more modern skyscrapers—there's a more human atmosphere. In the huge modern hotels I feel like a battery hen!'
When they were told that their table was ready in the dining-room, they walked along the cream and gold gallery, on smoothly textured floral carpets, into the candlelit shadows of the famous Ritz dining-room. Quincy looked up at the ceiling, painted blue to represent a summer sky, with fluffy white clouds here and there, and an ornate chain of heavy gilt flowers suspended from it in a great oval ring like metal Christmas decorations. On the pink damask tablecloth stood pink carnations, and giant mirrors threw back a swimming reflection of herself and Joe, their faces dim in the candlelight. She crossed her fingers under the table. Please, she thought, don't let Carmen and that photographer come for a long, long time. She wanted to cherish this romantic interlude, to be alone with Joe in the candlelight, for as long as possible. It would be the last memory she would carry back with her to her home. She would never see him again after tonight, but at least she would have a wonderful memory to keep for ever.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carmen and the photographer reappeared just as they were finishing their meal and took some more pictures before joining them at the table to have coffee, after which they all left and drove to a night club where they were given a small table in a private corner. The photographer took a few more shots of Joe and Quincy dancing on the shadowy little dance floor, then he left, and a few moments later Carmen went, too. Quincy and Joe stayed. People stared and whispered, but nobody quite liked to speak to them. Joe's dark eyes took on a remote expression if they happened to pass over a stranger. Quincy would not like to be anyone daring enough to risk his anger by approaching them— although he smiled down at her with a gentle mockery, somehow he managed to look very formidable when he was looking up.
'When do you fly back to the States? she asked while they were sitting at their table drinking some more champagne.
'Tomorrow,' he said.
She looked into her glass to hide the stiffness of her smile. 'I expect you're looking forward to getting home.'
'Yes.' His voice was clipped. 'And you?' he asked. 'Are you longing to get home, too?'
'Oh, yes!' said Quincy with an extreme enthusiasm which, to her own ears sounded slightly phoney. Ever since she got to London she had been telling herself how much she wished she had never left home, and now, with her return to the security of her family close at hand, for some unaccountable reason she felt like crying. She drank some more champagne, but it had little effect other than to make her spirits sink even lower—maybe it was the champagne which was making her want to burst into tears like a child and stamp her feet, she thought. What else could it be?
Through her lowered lashes she peeped at Joe and found his face in profile to her, the gleam of the brown skin lit by candles, his nose an arrogant sweep above a hard, fierce-looking mouth. Her heart plunged as he turned his head towards her and put a cool hand on top of one of her own.
'Shall we dance?'
As they got up the music changed to a slow, dreamy waltz and Joe drew her into his arms, one hand curving around her slender waist, the other clasping her fingers loosely. The floor was crowded, they had to dance slowly, almost at a shuffle, their bodies so close that Quincy felt the warmth of his thigh against her, communicating a restless heat to her skin and making her stomach tighten in unwilling attraction. Never before had she ever been so conscious of a man's sexuality. A slow-burning fuse had been lit inside her and she was growing lightheaded as it fizzed through her body. Joe moved, shifting closer, his arm tightening around her waist. She felt his long fingers just below the uplift of her breast, his body warmth penetrating her thin silky dress to make her own skin prickle with awareness.
'Still sorry you agreed to come to London?' he murmured, his lips close to her ear, the feel of his breath against her skin.
A trembling sensation started inside her, as if she had swallowed a butterfly which was fluttering around in an attempt to escape.
'I suppose not,' she said huskily. She kept her eyes lowered, afraid to look at him, because the drastic things he
was doing to her heartbeat had frightened her. He was too attractive, it was dangerous to let herself meet those wicked dark eyes which were gleaming like jet through his lashes.
'You look beautiful tonight,' he whispered. She felt his lips graze her ear, follow the delicate convolutions of it with tactile sensuality.
Before she could pull away, or protest at that, she felt his mouth softly sliding down her throat and her pulses went crazy.
She reminded herself that his intentions were strictly dishonourable, he was only amusing himself with her, and if she let him go on with this gentle seduction she would find herself in a situation which could only lead to heartache for her.
Her throat hurt, dry with aroused excitement, but she made herself say: 'I think we should go now, it must be getting late and I have to get up early to catch the train home.'
She half expected Joe to protest, but he led her off the floor without a single word, and within ten minutes they were back in the waiting limousine and driving back to Lilli's flat.
It wasn't until the car had pulled up and she was climbing out of it, her head bent, carefully lifting up her long white skirts to avoid treading on the hem, that Quincy realised that they had not returned to Lilli's flat at all. They were outside Joe's hotel. She turned at once, alarm in her face, but the limousine had begun to glide away and she walked straight into Joe.
'What are we doing here? I want to go back to my sister's flat!' she protested angrily, her head lifted to stare at him.
'The night's still young,' Joe said smoothly. 'I thought we'd have a peaceful nightcap together before I took you back.'
'Do you think I'm stupid?' Quincy retorted, bristling with alarm and anger. 'I'm not going up there with you—get that car back and take me home, or I'll get a taxi!'
'I've ordered some supper for us,' he said. 'Carmen and the photographer are waiting to take some final pictures.'
Quincy stared at him, her eyes uncertain. Was he telling the truth?
