Dangerous Enchantment

“I guess I couldn’t at that,” he said, and relaxed a little. “But honestly, Julie, imagine leaving a creature like that to wait while you attended some dreary dinner dance … or should I say buffet dance!”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly dreary.”

“No, but you know what I mean. The comparison, and so on. Still, I guess he knows she’s mad about him, and he lets her wait to bring her passion to the boil.”

Julie felt a strange trembling feeling in her stomach, and pressed a hand to it suddenly. It must be the amount of alcohol she had consumed, she thought uncomfortably. Although she knew Paul had only been joking, the idea of Manuel Cortez making love to Dolores Arriviera was not a pleasant one, and this she knew deep inside her was the root of her confusion.

CHAPTER TWO (#ud7ac117e-3e3c-5195-b13e-7a6211421f82)

ON Monday morning it was back to work as usual for Julie. Not that she minded really. She liked her work as assistant on the cosmetics counter of Fordhams, and the girls she worked with were a friendly crowd.

They all wanted to hear about the Saturday dance at Phoenix Television, and during their coffee break they chattered excitedly. When Julie told them that Manuel Cortez had been there for a short while they were amazed.

“Really?” exclaimed Donna, a luscious blonde. “Did you get an intro?”

“Darling, I danced with him,” said Julie, allowing all troubled thoughts of Manuel Cortez to leave her mind. “He’s very nice.”

“Danced with him!” said Marilyn Peters. “Good heavens, Julie, how did you do that?”

Julie giggled, beginning to enjoy her notoriety. “Well, he knows Mr. Parrish, Paul’s boss, of course, and he introduced us. Then he asked me to dance. It was quite exciting.”

“And what did you talk about?”

“Did he make a pass at you?”

Julie laughed. “Heavens, no! He had Dolores Arriviera waiting for him downstairs!”

They emerged from the cloakroom as Miss Fatherstone the supervisor came stamping into the room to see what was going on, and Julie was still talking.

“Paul had to go down to try and pacify her because he stayed on at the dance,” she was saying, as they walked slowly back to their respective counters. “Paul said she was good and mad, and positively spitting with anger. Paul thought that perhaps he was letting her get so excited that she was doubly passionate when he got to her. Some men like that sort of thing, don’t they? Primitive stuff!”

Julie, Donna and Marilyn were so engrossed in their conversations that they all but walked into a man who was standing in the centre of the cosmetic department floor which was surrounded on three sides by the three counters of which Marilyn, Donna and Julie were in charge. He was a tall, lean, attractive man, dressed in a dark lounge suit and a thick camelhair overcoat, which accentuated the darkness of his skin. Julie, who was walking between the other two, looked up at him in astonishment, and her cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red.

“Mr. Cortez!” she all but gasped, and Donna and Marilyn gave a startled exclamation and went swiftly across to their individual counters, from where they watched with painful intensity.

Manuel Cortez’ eyes were hard as granite as he looked down at her, and she felt her legs turn to jelly.

“Wh … why are you here?”

He shrugged. “That is my affair. But I should be obliged if you would refrain from discussing my private affairs with your … er … friends!” His voice was icy and Julie froze. He had heard them as they had been chattering across the floor. But how much had he heard, for goodness’ sake? And why was he here anyway?

“Come,” he said. “We are causing your friends much speculation. I wish to purchase some perfume. Perhaps you can advise me.”

“Of course.” Automatically Julie shifted behind the counter, and said: “What sort of perfume are you looking for? Something light and fresh for the daytime, or perhaps some musky incense for the night?” Her tone was forcedly impersonal, while she inwardly quaked.

“I want some Parisian perfume,” he said coolly. “Something essentially feminine; but sufficiently … how shall I put it? … aromatic, perhaps!”

Julie knew her job and in no time at all she had presented him with a choice of several perfumes, all of which fitted his description. That he was an expert on women’s perfumes she was left in no doubt and she wondered how many women he had bought perfume for. He finally selected a huge bottle of “La Vie Désirable” and asked Julie if she would gift-wrap it for him.

As the perfume had cost twenty pounds, Julie was only too happy to do so. As she was wrapping the parcel, Manuel studied her downbent head thoughtfully. Today she was wearing an emerald green overall over her pale blue shift and looked very lovely.

“Tell me,” he said, attracting her attention so that she looked up at him with her clear blue eyes, “will you spend this evening with me? Have dinner with me?”

Julie was flabbergasted. She stared at him for a moment, and then returned her attention to the parcel.

“And the Señorita Arriviera?” she said quietly.

“That, I think, is my concern,” his voice was harsh. “Well? What is your answer?”

Julie passed the parcel across the counter and accepted his cheque with jerky movements.

“I don’t think you can be serious, Mr. Cortez,” she said politely. “And besides, I have a date for this evening.”

“Break it!”

Julie’s eyes widened and she looked at him again. “I am not in the habit of breaking dates with Paul,” she said clearly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cortez, but I must refuse.”

“Oh, no,” he said, his voice low and angry, “I do not accept that.”

“Why? Is it so unusual? Do all your women fall over themselves to accept you?”

“Something like that,” he agreed, his voice revealing the temper lying just below the surface.

Julie saw with relief that Miss Fatherstone was approaching across the expanse of grey carpet. Their prolonged conversation had convinced her that this was some boy-friend of Julie’s come for a chat.

“Well, Miss Kennedy,” she said smoothly, “have you served this gentleman?”

“Yes, Miss Fatherstone,” said Julie primly.

Manuel Cortez turned to the intruder with an angry expression, but Miss Fatherstone, recognizing him, gasped in amazement. “Why, it’s Mr. Cortez, is it not?” she exclaimed. “Oh, Mr. Cortez, what a pleasure to meet you!”

Manuel moved awkwardly. He was used to being recognized, but just now he felt a frustrated kind of fury at the interruption. Nodding briefly, he wished them both goodbye and strode away swiftly towards the lift.

Miss Fatherstone turned to Julie. “Do you know that gentleman?” she asked, her voice tart again now.

“Yes, Miss Fatherstone. I met him on Saturday night at the Phoenix Television company dance. He had been making a recording for Phoenix and came in to the dance with Mr. Parrish, Paul’s boss.”

“I see.” Miss Fatherstone looked at her a little thoughtfully, then shrugging, she walked away, and Julie heaved a sigh of relief. But at lunchtime, in the canteen, with Donna and Marilyn extolling the virtues of Manuel Cortez, she wondered whether she had been foolish in not following her instincts and agreeing to go out with him.

“He was a dish,” said Donna, sighing. “If he’d asked me, I’d have gone like a shot! Fancy standing him up for Paul. You must be batty!”

Marilyn agreed. “Paul’s okay, Julie, but he’s not exactly sexy, is he?”

“I don’t think I should want him to be,” retorted Julie defensively.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Marilyn. “Remember, when you marry someone it’s for life, and men like Paul don’t change. He’s rather staid. I like him, but if you marry him I think you’ll be making a mistake.”

Julie sighed. Although she knew Marilyn was being rather personal, she said nothing. The girls had always been very frank with one another, and were used to discussing personal matters together. It was not true to say that Paul was staid, though, thought Julie, and said so.