Sophie Weston - The Latin Affair

It was an old joke. But Nicky felt oddly weepy as she ran full-tilt into them. Ben swung her off her feet with a rebel yell. Even on a rainy autumn street, dense with lunchtime crowds, heads turned; people smiled. He was so handsome, so full of life. He threw her into the air, looking up at her with a devilish grin.

‘Put me down,’ gasped Nicky. She was breathless, between laughter and unaccountable tears.

Ben only noticed the laughter. He returned her to the pavement and held her at arm’s length, surveying her appreciatively.

‘You look great,’ he said. ‘Even if you’re late.’

‘I know. I know,’ she said placatingly. ‘Sorry, I hit a natural disaster. Let’s eat.’

The waiter showed them to the small corner table for which Nicky had managed to wrest a reservation out of the management. He brought them water and menus and a carafe of wine while Nicky regaled Ben with the account of her battles with the difficult client.

It entertained him hugely.

‘Don’t know about a natural disaster. It sounds to me as if you’ve met your match,’ he said when she finished.

Nicky bridled. ‘Oh, no, I haven’t. He just—took me by surprise, that’s all.’

‘It’s the only way,’ murmured Ben teasingly.

Nicky sent him a look that would have crushed him if he had been anyone but her brother. He laughed.

‘It’s good for you,’ he said hardily. ‘You’ve been getting downright bossy.’

Nicky laughed. They both knew what he meant.

Ben was twenty-eight to her twenty-six but sometimes she felt as if he was still a teenager. He had been in London for three years, living a rollercoaster life. One day he was living in the lap of luxury with an old mate and earning a fortune. The next, he was standing on Nicky’s doorstep at three in the morning without even the wherewithal to pay the taxi that had brought him.

Nicky always paid the cab, gave him a bed for the night and a loan to tide him over. It never took long. Normally Ben was on his way up again within a week.

He repaid her scrupulously and, as often as not, took her somewhere wildly expensive to celebrate the revival of his fortunes. And then she would not see him again until there was something else to celebrate or he was back at the bottom of the ride again. In fact Nicky had been wondering ever since he rang which it was this time.

But she knew him too well to ask a direct question. Instead, she let him pour wine for them both.

‘You know, sometimes I feel like a changeling,’ she said suddenly.

‘You?’ Ben paused, the carafe poised over his glass. He looked across at her in unfeigned surprise. ‘But you’re the only sensible one in the family.’

‘Quite.’

‘You mean the parents are rogues and vagabonds and I’m a financial disaster,’ he interpreted.

Nicky shook her head.

‘No. I mean you’re relaxed. Free. You don’t have to plan everything.’

Ben shrugged. ‘So you’re a planner. Somebody has to be.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘The parents didn’t do so well without you running the itinerary, did they?’

Nicky was startled into a little crow of laughter. When she’d moved to England eight years ago, her parents had announced that now, at last, they were going to sail round the world. But between one thing and another they had not quite set out yet.

Ben leaned across and patted her hand.

‘So don’t knock yourself just because you have some common sense.’ His expression darkened. ‘I wish to God I’d been as sensible.’

Nicky was concerned. ‘Problems? Can I—?’

But he shook his head decisively. ‘No. I can’t keep touching you every time I’m short. Anyway, I’ve got something to keep me going while I sort myself out.’

Nicky did not argue. She knew his pride. So she just said, ‘What do you think you’ll do?’

He pulled a face. ‘Winter’s coming. I’m tempted to go south, see if I can get some sailing. There’s bound to be a gin palace looking for a crew somewhere.’

Nicky could not repress her sudden shudder. Ben raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

‘You mean a boat like the Calico Jane?’

Ben grinned. ‘Hardly. Showiest boat in the Caribbean. Too many electronics for me. What made you think of her?’

She shrugged, regretting her unwary question.

But the name had awakened a forgotten mystery and Ben was not going to let it go.

‘Was she the one, then? When you went moonlighting?’ He laughed reminiscently. ‘God, Mum was furious.’

‘It was a long time ago,’ Nicky said repressively.

The summer she was sixteen. It could have been yesterday.

Ben was intrigued. ‘What did happen? I never knew.’

Nicky shrugged again, not answering. She found that Ben was looking at her in sudden speculation.

‘You know, back then you were a babe to die for.’

That was more or less what they had said on board Calico Jane. Nicky could feel the colour leave her face. Fortunately, Ben was too taken up with his sudden memories to notice.

‘My friends were always on at me to bring you to parties.’ He grinned, remembering. ‘It used to drive me mad.’ He looked at her, shaking his head sorrowfully. ‘Who would have thought you’d turn into a wage slave? You were born to be a party girl.’

In spite of herself, Nicky choked. ‘I have a living to earn,’ she pointed out drily.

Ben put his head on one side and smiled the charming smile that had girlfriends falling over themselves to share his bed and do his laundry. ‘You can earn a living and still have some fun, you know.’

‘I do. It’s just that your idea of fun and mine is different.’

Ben flung up his hands.

‘I give in. You will live and die a businesswoman. And the wildest day of your week will be the girls night out.’

Since Ben had met all her friends and, indeed, made a spirited attempt to lure at least one of them into his sex and laundry net, Nicky did not take this slight too seriously.

‘I want wild, I’ll call my brother,’ she said tartly.

And that, for some reason, silenced Ben.

Their food came. Slowly they eased back into their normal easy gossip about family and friends and her despised job.

‘What’s Martin going to say when he finds you’ve savaged one of his customers this morning?’ Ben teased.

Nicky pulled a face. ‘Any savaging that took place was in the other direction. You should have heard the way that man called me a “blonde”.’

Ben laughed aloud. ‘But you are a blonde. And gorgeous with it.’

‘Not in the way he meant it,’ said Nicky, ungrateful for the compliment. ‘He made it sound as if all blondes are empty-headed nymphomaniacs.’

Ben waved his fork at her. ‘And too ready to go to war. All you needed to do was sweet-talk him a little. The man would be eating out of your hand by now.’

‘What a horrible thought,’ Nicky retorted. ‘Esteban Tremain is not the sort of man you sweet-talk lightly.’

The effect on Ben was electric. He sat bolt upright, his eyes narrowing. ‘What?’

Nicky was faintly surprised. She amplified, If I have to butter up some man, at least let it be someone I can like.’

Ben ignored that. ‘Who did you say?’

‘Esteban Tremain,’ said Nicky, puzzled. ‘Do you know him?’

That commanding voice had nothing in common with her erratic brother. She could not imagine how they could have met

‘I’ve heard of him,’ said Ben, suddenly grim.

‘And you don’t like what you’ve heard,’ Nicky interpreted.

It did not surprise her. Ben was easygoing to a fault but he would not take kindly to Tremain’s habit of ordering everyone around. He was like his sister in that, at least.