Читать книгу Fire And Desire - Brenda Jackson - Страница 13

“Welcome to Rio de Janeiro, senhorita.”

Corinthians Avery smiled at the irony of the man's greeting as she signed the hotel register. She hadn't felt welcomed a few hours ago when she'd been detained at the Brazilian airport by a customs inspector who thought her luggage appeared a little too full.

“Thanks,” she responded in English, momentarily forgetting to use some Portuguese words she'd learned over the past couple of weeks.

“Would the senhorita like a cup of cafezinko delivered to your room later?”

Corinthians smiled. A cup of coffee, even strong, Brazilian coffee, sounded pretty good right now. “Sim obrigada,” she answered in Portuguese. She was awarded a smile from the hotel clerk for her effort.

“Senhorita, you have a message,” he said, handing her the key to her room along with a sealed envelope.

She opened the letter and scanned its contents. Call me when you arrive. I'm in room 301. Trevor.

A deep frown appeared on Corinthians's face. She crushed the paper in her hand and tossed it in a nearby wastepaper basket, feeling angry that she had wasted even a second of her time reading Trevor Grant's note.

“When did Mr. Grant arrive?”

“Yesterday, senhorita.”

She nodded. “Under no circumstances do I want my room number given out. And the only calls I'll accept are those from Remington Oil or from Reverend and Mrs. Avery. All others take down as messages.”

The hotel clerk nodded in understanding.

For the moment Corinthians felt a sense of relief in knowing she wouldn't be bothered by the likes of Trevor Grant…at least not for a little while. She would see him soon enough when the research summit began in a few days. As far as she was concerned, the less she saw of him, the better.

“Don't you think it's time you stopped avoiding me?”

Corinthians looked up from her meal and momentarily paused, startled by the beauty of Trevor Grant's dark eyes. She hated admitting it, but his glare made him appear even more handsome. But she also conceded that at the moment, standing next to her table in a menacing stance with hands on his hips, he looked downright threatening. Her eyes narrowed as she looked him over, noticing the casual way he was dressed, wearing a pair of khaki pants and a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She wondered if there was any type of clothing he didn't look good in.

“I asked you a question, Corinthians.”

His sharp tone brought her gaze back to his face. “Trying to avoid you, Mr. Grant, would take too much effort, and I wouldn't waste my time on such a task.” She resumed eating, knowing in all actuality, she had been avoiding him since arriving yesterday.

“Then you shouldn't have a problem if I joined you for dinner,” he said, taking a chair across from her.

She frowned. “I do have a problem with it. It was my intent to sit here and enjoy a quiet meal.”

Trevor's face melted in a buttery smile, showing beautiful white teeth. “A quiet meal? I see no reason why you won't have one.” He glanced down at her plate. “I doubt that food will make any noise. Trust me, I'll be the first to leave if it does.”

Corinthians didn't find his words the least amusing. “Look, Mr. Grant, I—”

“I'm Trevor, remember.”

“You're whatever I see fit to call you. Just be glad it's not something a lot worse.”

Trevor leaned toward her. His eyes turned cold as he met her glare. “I'm not worried about you calling me anything but my given name. You're too much of a lady to do anything else.”

Color flamed Corinthians's cheeks as she reacted to his statement, not liking the emphasis he had placed on the word lady. He had insultingly reminded her of that night she had stood before him looking like anything but a lady.

Her facial muscles tensed and her glare hardened. No true gentleman would deliberately remind a woman of one of her most humiliating experiences. She sighed. If she was no lady, then he certainly wasn't a true gentleman. She was spared from telling him that fact when the waitress came to take his order.

“You look nice today, Corinthians,” he said after the waitress had left.

She lifted her head. The look she gave him indicated his compliment didn't faze her. However, since she'd been brought up with the belief that displaying good manners was essential, even to someone like Trevor Grant, she answered stiffly. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. And you smell nice, too.”

Corinthians stared into Trevor's eyes. “Why all the compliments? Let's be honest with ourselves, shall we? I don't like you. You don't like me. For reasons that I'd rather not get into, we don't get along. However, since our jobs occasionally bring us in contact with each other, I believe we can handle the situation like two professional adults.”

Trevor eyed her thoughtfully. “If you believe that, then why are you always avoiding me?”

“I don't always avoid you.”

“Then why haven't you responded to my messages?”

“I had a rather taxing flight yesterday from Austin to Miami. And to top it off, when I arrived at the airport I was stopped. Brazilian customs officials who went through every piece of luggage I brought with me detained me. By the time I checked into the hotel, I was too tired to be bothered by anyone.”

Corinthians sighed. That much of what she had just told him had been the truth.

Trevor raised a surprised brow. South America was known to be lax when it came to airport security. More drugs and contraband were smuggled in and out of this continent than any other place that he knew of, and usually under the airport officials' indifferent eyes. He wondered why she had been stopped. “Brazilian officials actually stopped you?”

Corinthians met his stare. “Yes. I was detained for more than two hours. It probably would have been longer had I not made a scene and threatened to contact someone at the American Embassy.”

At that moment the waitress returned with Trevor's meal. He had ordered churrasco, an array of different kinds of meats grilled on skewers. In addition to his glass of Brazilian brandy, the waitress also left him a small bottle of malagueta, a spicy sauce made from crushed, hot red peppers. When he uncapped the bottle, the spicy-hot aroma nearly took Corinthians's breath away.

“I can't believe you're putting that stuff on your food,” she said, watching him pour the sauce all over his meat.

He didn't look up when he replied. “Believe it.” But he did lift his gaze to meet hers when he added, “I happen to like hot stuff. Nothing stirs my blood more. The hotter, the better.”

The look he gave her, as far as she was concerned, was just like the sauce he had poured over his food: red-hot. She felt her insides sizzle from the heat. He was staring at her with those dark eyes of his, hard and intense. She took a shaky breath. “Then enjoy yourself.”

He smiled. “I will.” He lifted a skewer and with his teeth pulled a piece of sauce-covered meat into his mouth without flinching. He smiled a slow, seductive smile.

Corinthians tried hard not to stare, but watching him chew his food was having an arousing effect on her. An involuntary shudder of simmering heat ripped through her. Her gaze followed every contoured movement of his mouth. Its motion was slow, provocative and alluring. She could just imagine his mouth working those same slow, steady and measured movements on hers, smothering her lips with demanding intensity. She tinted a darker shade, mortified because she'd had such thoughts.

“Want some?”

The sound of Trevor's voice, deep and husky, startled Corinthians. She tinted at having been caught staring. She ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them before asking. “Want some what?”

Trevor leaned over toward her and whispered, “Some of my food, what else?”

Corinthians took a deep breath. He was back to being arrogant again. She frowned at him. “No, I don't want any of your food. Mine suits me just fine,” she snapped irritably, annoyed for letting him have such an effect on her. She had to get away from him to retain her sanity.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal,” she said brusquely, motioning to the waitress to bring her check.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asked, looking at her curiously.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to my room. I plan on doing some sightseeing in São Paulo all day tomorrow and want to get a good night's sleep.”

“Can I tag along tomorrow?”

Corinthians was startled. “I prefer that you didn't.”

Trevor didn't look up as he poured more sauce on his meat. “Why not? Like you said earlier, we're two professional adults.” He lifted his gaze to hers and grinned. “Surely we can put our dislike for each other aside for at least one day.”

“I don't think us spending time together is a good idea.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Because I do.”

Trevor pushed his plate aside. “Then let's discuss why you feel that way and really get to the crux of the problem. Don't you think two years is a long time for you to carry a chip on your shoulder?”

“I'm not carrying a chip on my shoulder. And I prefer not talking about that night. I don't even like thinking about it.”

“Then don't.”

“That's easy for you to say.”

“Not talking about it won't make it go away. That night happened, Corinthians. Get over it. However, I think it will make you feel better if we got it out in the open and discussed it.”

Corinthians doubted that. Her embarrassment and humiliation that night were too great. There was no way she could discuss how she felt, especially with Trevor of all people. He had seen her in a way no other man ever had. “What's there to say?”

“Whatever you want.” A part of Trevor hoped she would say her feelings for Dex were a thing of the past and that she had accepted his marriage. He hoped she wasn't like the woman who had become obsessed with his father and had destroyed his parents' marriage. The thought that she could very well be that sort of woman—scheming, conniving and manipulating—angered him.

“Get over Dex, Corinthians. He's a married man who loves his wife very much. You don't stand a chance.”

Corinthians's angered flared. Why was he telling her that? She knew Dex loved Caitlin. Anyone with eyes could see that. At the time that she had decided to make her move on Dex, she had not seen him in more than four years and had not known his marital state. When she had first gotten hired at Remington Oil right out of college at Grambling, Dex had been her trainer. They had worked together for a couple of years before he was sent to work in Australia. Although she had wanted him to notice her, he had only treated her fondly, like a sister. After the fiasco that night two years ago with Trevor in the hotel room, she had reevaluated her feelings for Dex. She had come to the conclusion that whatever feelings she'd thought she'd had for Dex hadn't been love, but an oversized amount of infatuation she'd harbored for him over the years. Even Dex's wife, Caitlin, knew she once thought herself in love with Dex. After meeting Caitlin and seeing what a beautiful person she was, both inside and out, Corinthians had felt that in order for her and Caitlin to have a true friendship, she needed to let her know what her feelings had been for Dex at one time. She had also made it clear to Caitlin that Dex was unaware she had harbored such affections. He considered her a good friend and nothing more. Caitlin had appreciated her honesty and forthrightness, and she knew Caitlin considered her a friend.

What bothered her now more than anything was not any feelings of love she still harbored for Dex, since she knew for certain there weren't any, but the unexplained feelings she'd begun to feel for Trevor Grant. He was the last person she wanted to feel anything for. The man had her pegged as some two-bit home-wrecker, for Pete's sake! That meant he didn't think a whole lot of her character. That angered her more.

“You don't know what I stand a chance of doing,” she said finally. “I've discovered when it comes to love, most men are fickle. Otherwise they wouldn't have mistresses, now would they?” she added, knowing her words would fuel his anger.

It did. Trevor's gaze showed his seething rage. When the waitress came to collect Corinthians's money, she turned her attention away from Trevor. After taking a calming breath, she decided to thank the waitress for her meal in the woman's native tongue.

The waitress's face suddenly turned a hot crimson and tears appeared in her eyes. She whirled and ran from the room.

“Why did you say something like that to her?” Trevor snapped.

Corinthians flinched at the harsh tone of Trevor's voice. She noticed the sudden quietness in the hotel's restaurant and that other patrons were openly staring at her. “What's wrong? I don't understand,” she said in alarm. “I merely told her I had enjoyed my meal.”

“No, you did not! You didn't even come close.”

Corinthians swallowed slowly, afraid to ask but knowing she had to. “Then what did I say to her?”

Trevor's glare deepened. “You told her she had the face of a dead horse.”

Shocked denial appeared on Corinthians's face. “I did not!”

“You did, too! I strongly suggest you brush up on your Portuguese before spurting off your mouth.” He then motioned for the attention of the restaurant manager, which wasn't hard to do since all eyes were on them anyway. When the man arrived at their table, Trevor spoke to him in rapid, fluent Portuguese.

Corinthians's mouth dropped in surprise. When the man rushed off in the same direction the waitress had gone earlier, Corinthians found her voice to ask, “Where did you learn to speak Portuguese?”

Trevor glared at her. “While in the Marines I learned to speak several different languages.”

Corinthians's face showed another shock. “You were in the Marines?”

“Yes. I was in the Marines for more than fifteen years.”

At that moment the manager returned with the distressed waitress in tow. Corinthians felt absolutely awful. One look at the woman and she could tell she'd been crying. “Oh, Trevor, please tell her that I didn't mean what I said and that my use of her language is rusty and—”

“It's not rusty, it's deplorable.”

Ignoring his comment, Corinthians continued. “Please tell her I truly apologize for what I said and that I didn't mean it. I was trying to tell her I enjoyed my food.”

In a soft, calming voice, Trevor began speaking in Portuguese. Corinthians noted the softening of the woman's features and the smile that stole onto her face. Whatever Trevor was saying was helping to smooth things over. When the woman looked at her and laughed before turning to leave, Corinthians raised a brow.

“What did you say to her?”

Trevor shrugged. “I told her everything you asked me to. I also shared with her a few thoughts of my own.”

“A few thoughts of your own like what?”

He leaned back in his seat and looked at her. “I told her that unfortunately you had a habit of placing yourself in embarrassing situations. Today wasn't the first time I've been a witness to such an event, and I doubt it would be the last.”

Corinthians's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe he had said such a thing about her; and to a stranger at that. But the look he gave her said that he had. Totally peeved, she stood. “This was the last time you'll ever be a witness to any embarrassing situation I might endure.”

“I doubt it.”

Trevor couldn't help but grin when a very angry Corinthians Avery turned and walked off. He shrugged and resumed eating his food. So much for round one.