When in Rio Read online

  Jack, of course, was not privy to the bout of bitchiness over girly hair grooming practices. He had stepped up to the counter to pay for the suit only after all of that had transpired. More glee for me, because the snotty salesgirl clearly found him attractive but assumed he was mine since he was buying me a hot bathing suit, and his fluent Portuguese just messed with her anti-tourist mindset even more.

  And then his hand was on my back again, and was it my imagination or did he wrap his fingers just a little bit farther around my waist? We wove our way through the pedestrian traffic and talked about possibly renting some scooters to check out some other sights the next day, since the actual conference sessions didn’t start until Monday.

  When the crowd moved across the street, we moved along with it automatically and were soon back at the Copacabana Palace, retiring politely to our separate suites for our separate, much-needed naps.

  Chapter Three

  I hated the alarm that woke me. It was an absolute son of a bitch. Only my inability to find the snooze button on the unfamiliar device kept me from hitting it repeatedly. Well, that and realizing I had no choice but to get up right away if I wanted to have time to shower before the cocktail party. And walking around in eighty-degree weather might be small potatoes compared to Houston in the summer, but I still felt grungy after half a day of that. Not to mention the overnight flight that had preceded it. A shower was a clear necessity.

  The prospect of my new dress got me going and I pushed myself into the shower, finding the instant heat and endless water pressure to be a pleasant surprise. The whole bathroom itself was a surprise, really, inasmuch as it was clad from floor to ceiling in pink granite, with high-end fixtures and a tub that could probably fit three. The Brazilian notion of “business class” clearly outstripped the paltry American view of what people at a work-related conference required for comfort. I promised myself a long bath later, sticking to the glass shower enclosure for now and trying to hurry despite how fantastic the heavily thrumming water felt on my back and shoulders.

  At last, with my hair tucked into a dampish, messy, silk-frilled bun and wearing the least makeup I thought I could get away with—which was still about twice as much as I ever wanted to wear—I presented myself at Jack’s door and knocked politely, heart suddenly pounding in my throat. Why was I nervous? I saw the man every day of the week at work. Of course, he didn’t buy me bathing suits every day of the week.

  Oh. And he didn’t come to work looking or smelling anything like this either. He looked like he’d just strolled off a yacht, and he smelled…exotic. Spicy, heady…really almost edible. If he wore that scent to the office he’d never be able to walk around, the floor would just be covered with swooning women.

  “What do you think?” he asked casually, rubbing his face and sniffing his hand, then smiling in a purely friendly way as he walked me to the elevator. “Too much? Too girly? I got it at the gift shop downstairs, mine was in my big suitcase.”

  “Hmmm? Oh. No, not too girly.” Heavenly, sexy, dizzying, complex, lust-inducing. Do you mind if I just bury my nose in your neck and smell you, maybe take a few tiny nibbles? “It’s very nice.”

  “Good. Hey, you look nice, by the way. I wouldn’t normally say anything, because of the whole sexual harassment thing, but I figure you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks,” I chuckled. “That’s okay, you can feel free to reassure me that I look nice, and also please tell me if I have toilet paper dragging from my shoe or anything like that. I mean, you’re the only one I know here.”

  That last part turned out to be not quite true, as it happened. When we got down to the poolside bar area where the early arrivers were meeting for cocktails, I saw no less than three colleagues I knew slightly from previous conferences or through work. Two of the women I recognized swept me into their conversation immediately. Much to my relief, actually. I knew I couldn’t spend the whole evening talking only to Jack, and I had never been good at mingling.

  “Isn’t that Jack Benedict? Your boss, right?” one of the ladies asked, trying not to eye him too obviously as the three of us walked toward the bar. “I heard about the re-org, by the way. Congratulations.”

  “I admit I’d rather still be in the field,” I said, reaching for a fruity drink with an umbrella in it. “But I can’t complain, and it isn’t like I had any conferences in Rio in my old position.”

  “I just got lucky,” our other colleague said. Jane, was that her name? I wasn’t sure if I knew her too well for it to be embarrassing to ask at this point. “My boss was supposed to come, but his wife is about nine and a half months pregnant and evidently she pitched a huge fit about him leaving the country. So here I am.”

  I explained the amazing coincidence, that my own attendance here was pregnancy-related as well. “It’s Jane, right? I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names. I think we sat next to each other at some session on cleanup at OTC.”

  Jane flicked her streaked blonde hair over her shoulder with a laugh. “That’s okay, we should all do introductions. I admit I can’t remember either of y’all’s names. Sorry, sorry!” She giggled at the other girl, who wore a look of mock affront.

  “Last time I save a place for you in the potty line. She’s kidding, by the way. We have the advantage of working together though, so she’d better remember my name. I’m Kendra Patterson, and she is indeed Jane. Jane Nesmith.”

  “Jane. Jane Bond,” said Jane, giggling again. I realized she must have already had at least one fruity umbrella drink before my arrival.

  “Shhh. We’re both with Biotech Consulting. And you’re Chrissy or Kelly or something like that, and you’re with Globe. That much I remember.”

  “Katie Snow. Pleased to meet you both, sort of, again.”

  “And you’re lucky enough here to be with Jack, oh my God,” Kendra said.

  I blushed, hoping the low light by the pool would hide the evidence. “Well, not with him, of course. Just here at the conference. As for the ‘oh my God’ part, I try to ignore it. I mean, he is my boss.” So much for “Jackass”. Apparently his reputation outside our own company was a bit more flattering.

  “Yowza,” Jane remarked quietly, following Kendra’s discreet nod in Jack’s direction. “He looks like a freaking magazine cover. How are you gonna ignore that?” She sounded a little sarcastic though, and she gave Kendra a smirk I couldn’t quite interpret.

  “Jane, chill out,” said Kendra mildly, swirling her drink—a glass of wine, not a silly Fantasy Island rum drink like the rest of us had. “Shouldn’t we be networking or something, ladies?” She looked cool and crisp, and I realized she had managed to get a navy linen cocktail suit from Houston to Brazil without wrinkling it. Or perhaps she was the type who carried a travel steamer. Or knew enough to get one from the hotel right away, upon arrival. She had clearly not lost her luggage. And her hair, sleek and black, wasn’t threatening to tumble from her bun, nor was the smooth mocha of her skin beginning to bead with sweat in the humidity, as mine was.

  “Network, schmetwork,” Jane replied. “I’d rather gossip about Katie’s boss some more. But what the hell. Um, how’s the EPA treating y’all these days, Katie?”

  And from that rather awkward segue, we did actually spend some time discussing work. By the time I’d moved on to another group I felt a little more comfortable with mingling, although I couldn’t help but follow Jack’s easy progress around the party with some envy. Everyone seemed to know him, and everyone seemed to greet him like a long-lost friend. Kendra Patterson included, I noticed, and was slightly ashamed of myself for immediately checking to see if she was wearing a wedding ring.

  She was not. Nor was Jane.

  The drinks were seductive, the food tangy and spicy, and by the time true dark had fallen the conversation and laughter were flowing freely, echoing oddly over the gleaming turquoise water of the enormous pool. Time passed more quickly than I thought it would. It must have been close to two hours later that I felt a hand at the sma
ll of my back, and knew whose it was before he spoke.

  “A bunch of us are going swimming, we’re heading upstairs to change. You want in?”

  As if I might say no. Daunted as I was by the prospect of appearing in my new bathing suit in public, I was only too eager to play hooky from the schmoozing. And since it was the boss asking, it wasn’t as though my choice would be frowned upon.

  The anxiety about the suit grew much sharper when, upstairs and staring at myself in front of the bathroom mirror, I started to panic. True, it covered everything it should. Technically. But there was something about the positioning of the fabric, or maybe the fact that it looked more like a collection of narrow black straps than an actual swimsuit. Even if it wasn’t exposing much more skin than any other bathing suit might, I felt like I was revealing parts of myself I normally didn’t.

  Jack’s tap on the door made me jump, and I only remembered at the last minute to snatch up the fluffy white hotel robe and throw it over myself before answering.

  “Ready?” he asked, and I nodded—but stood there as though the doorway were a force field I couldn’t pass through. “Kate? Is something wrong?”

  “Um. I’m just wondering if this is really a work-appropriate swimsuit after all. Maybe I should just—”

  “Kate, you’re probably being ridiculous. I didn’t see it on you, but I saw the suit on the counter when I paid for it and it looked fine.” But he looked more amused than annoyed, fortunately. “I’m your boss, and if I say it’s work-appropriate, it is.” He came into the room, closing the door behind him after peering down the hall, presumably checking to see if the others were waiting by the elevators yet.

  “If you’re that concerned,” he offered, “do you want me to go get Kendra or her friend to check it out for you? You know them, right? They’re just a few doors down.”

  “No! No, that’s okay.” Kendra had probably brought a range of fully appropriate suits which were already unpacked and all lined up neatly on hangers for her to choose from. I couldn’t imagine her in this sort of dilemma. And Jack, of course, looked supremely comfortable in his swimming trunks and t-shirt, which made sense as the trunks were longer than the shorts he’d had on earlier. They were also a royal blue Hawaiian floral print, which I wouldn’t have guessed. But then, I wasn’t supposed to be speculating about my boss’s swimwear, was I?

  It was a weird area and we were clearly both stepping into it, because when I looked up from my accidental perusal of Jack’s shorts, I caught him looking up from his own perusal of my legs, revealed from foot to mid-thigh by the hastily and rather loosely tied robe.

  “Do you want me to check it out for you?” he asked in a low voice that walked like soft fingers down my spine. Danger, Katie Snow… But I nodded without thinking twice, because of course that was exactly what I wanted, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not.

  It’s a bathing suit, I told myself, everyone’s going to see it anyway. It’s even a one-piece. Sort of.

  But I wasn’t doing a good job of kidding myself. I was crossing a line, and I would almost certainly regret it. My hands were shaking a little bit as I untied the loose knot and slipped the terrycloth robe from my shoulders, slinging it over one arm because I needed something to do with my hands. Something to keep them from betraying my nerves at the idea that Jack’s blue, blue gaze was dipping into uncharted territory, shoulders to waist to hips. But I had to smile when he looked back up at me expectantly and made a little spinning motion with his finger. Obediently, I turned around and completed the three-sixty to find him looking extremely appreciative.

  It was an expression I found quite gratifying, on one hand—but which on the other did nothing to convince me the suit was something to wear in public.

  “I say it looks great, and it’s more than appropriate for this particular function, but of course it’s really up to you,” he said at last, turning back toward the door as if to go. “Is that enough reassurance for you?”

  “Not really,” I said, laughing. “Although you are the boss, Sir.” Oops again.

  Jack turned with his hand on the door handle, raising one eyebrow and giving me a look. If I’d thought he was a bit intense before, I’d been sorely mistaken. But there was humor there too, which somehow made it even more devastating. He seemed to be debating something with himself, and losing. When he spoke, it was in that low, low voice again, thrilling me down to my toes.

  “I may really regret asking this. I didn’t come here planning to ask this. But out of curiosity, little Katie, what would you do if I just said, ‘You will be wearing the suit, so get out in that hallway, now’?”

  Did he mean aside from letting my jaw drop like an inebriated codfish and blinking at him like I was slightly deranged? Because I know that was my first reaction. My second—because I figured I had been thinking about how much I disliked my new job anyway, so I might as well just go out with a bang, not a whimper—was to stammer out, “I would…I would say ‘Yes Sir’ and go out in the hallway, right now.”

  “I see. Good to know.” Our eyes met in a moment of complete understanding, and if he had held my gaze much longer I would’ve been on my knees. Instead, he opened the door and held it for me, giving a slight wave down the hall to who I assumed were some of the others standing by the elevator. “It’s really up to you,” he repeated with a thoughtful, slightly distracted expression.

  But of course it no longer was really up to me. The damage was done. I had to stop myself from asking permission to put the robe back on before following him out into the hall like an obedient pup. And then his hand was at my back again, a searing pressure even through the heavy terrycloth, and we headed downstairs for what seemed like the longest moonlight swim of my life. Well, true, it was the only moonlight swim of my life thus far. But still, it seemed very long.

  I considered sneaking away after about forty-five minutes, but Jack noticed and called to me to wait for him. When he hauled himself from the pool, dripping and glorious in the combined gleam of the moon and the poolside lights, I busied myself with my towel and robe, retying the sash a little tighter around me and carefully folding the towel lengthwise before draping it over my arm just so.

  The top half of Jack was even more distracting than his legs had been earlier. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, but he looked more like an athlete than a gym rat. His muscles didn’t look so much large as authentic. As though he just had very vigorous hobbies—another thought I tried to squash firmly.

  “Do you want to see some Atlantic rainforest tomorrow, by the way?” he asked as he pulled his t-shirt back on, much to my mingled relief and dismay, and we set off for the elevators.

  “Tomorrow? Really?”

  “Yeah. I meant to tell you sooner, but I forgot when the swimming thing came up. Someone from the parks department was there tonight, and we knew some people in common. Anyway, he offered to take anyone who’s interested from the conference on a private hike up the Pico de Tijuca. It’s over two thousand feet up, in the middle of the national forest. You have your jungle stuff, right? Hiking shoes and all that?”

  “Of course,” I said immediately—then realized it was all in the missing bags. “Assuming a miracle occurs and our luggage gets here,” I added. I didn’t really care about the shoes. The enormous Tijuca National Forest, which abutted the city, was another of those sights I considered compensation for having to spend a week at the beach. If I had to, I’d hike there in my loafers.

  “It’s already here. Mine is, anyway. I almost tripped over it when I got to my room to change. Wasn’t yours?”

  I hadn’t even noticed at the time, but to my delight the bag was indeed in my room when we arrived back there. Jack had stopped by my door while I checked, and then insisted I go ahead and make sure everything was in my case. When I triumphantly turned with one hiking shoe in my hand, he was standing just inside the now-closed door with an indulgent smile on his face.

  “So you’ll be all set for Tijuca tomorrow,” he
said approvingly. “Which is a relief, because I had no idea where to go to get you some hiking boots in this town at eight on a Sunday morning.”

  “I couldn’t have worn something that wasn’t broken in anyway,” I pointed out, picking up the shoe and its mate and placing them neatly together at the foot of the bed, where I had placed my suitcase to check that everything was still in it. I had made only a very brief check. I had no intention of letting my employer see everything that was in my suitcase, by any means. “This seems fine, by the way. All present and accounted for.” I bit my tongue on the “Sir” that nearly followed, and smiled what I hoped was a polite smile up at Jack.

  “Okay. Well, I’m going to go get some rest then. Um…”

  The moment had suddenly turned strangely awkward, as though Jack wasn’t quite sure of what exit line he needed. We’d been in and out of one another’s suites earlier in the day with no trouble, chatting and laughing lightly about the luggage predicament. Now, however, things felt different. Not like a date, which wouldn’t have been possible, but certainly that same hint of will-he-or-won’t-he that happens in the car just after the new couple pulls up to the curb at the evening’s end, or perhaps on the girl’s front porch just before the door is unlocked.

  “Thanks for helping me shop and everything,” I said finally. “And for the bathing suit. So…I guess I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Right…right.” Jack seemed to come to himself and, with a shake of his head and another roguish little smile, he waved and turned around, heading out of the suite. “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow, Kate,” he said as he disappeared and the door closed after him.

  I told myself I was only imagining the hint of regret in his eyes and voice.

  Telling myself that, however, didn’t keep me from falling asleep to an unbidden fantasy about what would have happened if I had given him a different and much more specific answer earlier when he’d asked me what my response would be to his ordering me out to the hall in my bathing suit. Because since that time, I’d had time to formulate several different possible responses far better than the one I had actually given.