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She’d certainly come prepared to work because the travelling attire had been replaced, today, by a similar uniform of linen trousers and a blouse neatly tucked into the waistband. Buttons firmly done up to the neck.
And here she was now, in yet another pair of trousers and another blouse.
The colour was less regimental but the flavour was stilllet’s-stick-to-business.
He grinned, sipped his whisky and sauntered to pull up a chair, sitting down alongside her.
‘I’m beginning to feel a little guilty that I haven’t packed any of my suits.’
‘Ha ha, that’s hilarious. These aren’t work clothes, Nico.’
‘My mistake. At close range, it’s hard to see much difference. It’s been a long day.’ He was still grinning as he signalled to a passing waiter for the drinks menu. ‘Time to relax. What do you want to drink?’
‘I’ll have a...tropical fruit punch,’ Grace said.
‘With lashings of rum,’ Nico tacked on, eyebrows raised with amusement as she predictably began to huff. ‘You can’t sit here, with the sun settling on the horizon and a balmy breeze blowing, and order a glass of juice.’
‘I...’
‘Yes, you’re here to work, but you’re not working now and you deserve to let go after the long day we’ve had, so I won’t hear of you having some squash instead of something long and cold and relaxing. Live a little, Grace.’ His eyebrows shot up with barely contained amusement. He wondered which of his outrageous encouragements would get under her skin more and he had no idea why he was so tempted to flirt with her wrath now but watching her all day...had been strangely intoxicating. Something about the way she moved, the oddly prissy clothes, her habit of absently puffing her hair from her forehead and tucking it behind her ears when she was concentrating...
True to form, she had immersed herself in work and true to form they had worked quietly and efficiently together, building up the blocks for selling the various companies, liaising with local lawyers virtually and arranging meetings for the following day as everything sped ahead, promising an early conclusion to business here.
In the blink of an eye they’d be back in London. She’d be sitting dutifully in front of his desk, going through emails and noting what had to be done on what deal or other he was working on, and gradually that small window through which he had glimpsed something of therealGrace Brown would be closed for ever.
‘And back to the work clothes that aren’t work clothes. Look around you. Bold colours...shorts...flip-flops... It’s not the sort of place that screams conference-table dress code.’
Grace felt the sting of embarrassment and hurt prick her eyelids.
She looked away briefly and started when she felt Nico’s hand on hers. This time when their eyes met, the lazy, amused smile had left his lips.
‘I’m sorry, Grace. Out of order. What you choose to wear and what you choose to drink? Not my business.’
The waiter was approaching with two long cocktails and Nico immediately ordered a glass of fruit juice, but Grace shook her head. His show of sympathy was even more embarrassing than his casual teasing, because that was what it had been. Teasing. Yet somehow it had struck at the very heart of her, had made her feel like a fuddy-duddy, old before her time, and what was worse was the fact that he had a point. That was what life did to a person. That was whatherlife had done to her.
‘The cocktail looks wonderful,’ she said and the waiter smiled back, flashing white teeth and rattling off a list of enticing ingredients.
‘We can eat out here. Appreciate the scenery.’ Nico sat back and stared out to the darkening horizon. Fairy lights lit the coconut trees closest to the hotel and beyond the lit trees, darkness was gobbling up everything. The sounds of night insects and frogs and crickets were a background hum, insistent but soothing at the same time.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ Grace murmured. ‘Don’t you feel...just a little peaceful sitting out here? Doing nothing?’
‘I’m thinking about what we need to do tomorrow. Does that count asdoing nothing?’ But he laughed.
Grace relaxed. It was nice because they were both staring out at the same dark landscape and without his eyes on her she felt less edgy, less self-conscious of the fussy outfit she had chosen to wear. The cocktail looked bright and jolly and harmless, but she could feel the alcohol cutting a path through her reserve, loosening her inhibitions. She sneaked a sideways glance at him and shivered. The light filtering between the shadows and the mellow citronella candles on the tables made him look rakish, like a pirate somehow transported onto solid ground. She gulped and swallowed some more of the cocktail.
‘Not really.’ She smiled. ‘It’s strange,’ she murmured thoughtfully, ‘but when I sit here and look around, when I think of the lanterns in the bar and the wooden counter and all the bright colours everywhere, the picture I have of your uncle doesn’t tally with the one you told me about...’
She met his steady gaze when he angled his body so that he was looking at her.
‘Am I overstepping the mark?’ She raised her eyebrows, finished the cocktail and thought that throwing caution to the wind now and again wasn’t half as unnerving as she’d always thought. Frankly, the wind had done quite a bit of caution-devouring over the past week or so. Every time, she had given herself a little lecture on climbing back into her box and re-erecting the barriers between them but just at the moment she honestly didn’t feel inclined to do that.
‘You’re full of surprises of late, Grace Brown, and I have to admit that I’m liking this version,’ Nico murmured in a voice that sent little tingles through her because it was as soft as a caress.
‘Am I?’
Their eyes tangled.
Nico drew in a sharp breath. Surely his perfect secretary wasn’tflirtingwith him?
