Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper

‘Then how about I buy you coffee and cake instead?’

No reason to refuse him coming helpfully to mind, Marianne nodded uncomfortably. ‘Okay. Now, I really have to get back to this.’

‘Then I will say goodbye, Marianne.’ He briefly inclined his head, his expression inscrutable. ‘Until next time.’

‘Next time’ turned out to be two days later. Having endured an icy shower of rain and sleet combined for the previous hour, huddled beneath an inadequate umbrella instead of playing her guitar, Marianne had seriously thought about packing up and calling it a day. But then the sun came out, the freezing cold shower subsided, and as if by magic Eduardo De Souza appeared. He was dressed in his stylish cashmere coat, with a matching scarf draped casually round his neck, and his attire seemed much more suitable for the premiere of a theatre production rather than a casual visit to town.

‘Hello.’ He smiled, his rich voice sounding a little huskier than she remembered. Realising that for the past two days she had subconsciously been looking out for him, her heart thudding with what felt ridiculously like excited anticipation whenever his image crossed her mind, Marianne struggled to make her response sound natural.

‘Hi…’ she mumbled, standing back to shake the drops from her umbrella, fold it, then lean it against the wall. ‘Not exactly the best day for coming into town,’ she quipped.

‘Fortunately I missed the downpour. I have spent the past hour under cover at the exhibition.’

‘The same exhibition you visited before?’

‘Yes.’

‘It must be quite compelling to make you want to visit it again. What’s it about?’

‘It’s a collection by a French photographer I particularly admire…a retrospective of his life in Paris just after the war, when the city was being rebuilt. He died recently, and I saw an article in the local newspaper advertising the exhibition.’

‘Oh.’ Collecting her guitar from its case, Marianne gave her visitor an awkward smile. ‘I should probably go and take a look at it myself before it ends. It sounds fascinating.’

‘You are interested in the subject?’

‘I’m always interested in creativity and art—whatever its form. It intrigues me to learn how other artists see the world…how they interpret what they see. Just goes to show we all see things so differently…not in the same way at all.’

For a moment the man in front of her fell silent, as though he were seriously considering the opinion Marianne had just expressed, and with no small amount of surprise either.

Then he glanced down at his watch—expensive-looking, but definitely not ostentatious. ‘How about going for that coffee now?’

Again finding no immediate reason to decline, and feeling chilled to the bone after that hour of relentless sleet and rain, Marianne found herself agreeing. ‘Okay. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.’

In the familiar café, with its cheerful red and white checked curtains and matching tablecloths, the aromatic smell of brewing coffee mingling with the steam arising from the damp coats of customers gratefully seeking warmth, shelter and sustenance after their tussle with the elements, Marianne was mildly surprised to find it as busy as it was. Luckily she found a small table close to the woodstove, and the waitress appeared almost straight away to take their order. She didn’t doubt it was because Eduardo did not look like your average everyday customer—his almost regal bearing and sheer physicality alone commanded instant attention.

Goodness knew what the poor girl made of Marianne as his companion! As it was, she saw her look slightly askance at her guitar in its battered case, as if it was something almost distasteful. Eduardo gave her their order, and Marianne suddenly found herself alone with him. Resting his hands atop the checked tablecloth, he studied her without speaking. What was he thinking? Marianne wondered nervously. She cleared her throat and forced a shaky smile, feeling ill at ease and somehow graceless in her jumble of ill-fitting clothing beneath his intense examination.

‘This is a nice place. It makes a change from the local coffee chain I usually use. The coffee’s very good, and the pastries aren’t bad either.’

‘I am glad you chose a table near the fire…you look half frozen!’

‘I’m not any more. I’m quite warm, actually.’ Undoing several buttons on her coat, Marianne flashed him a smile, genuinely touched by the concern in his voice.

‘I have to ask you—’ the disturbing glance seemed to intensify ‘—are your parents happy about you singing at the side of the road?’ he questioned, frowning.

She could tell by his tone that he disapproved.

‘They’re not around any more to have an opinion,’ she answered instantly, without thinking, and then a splinter of indignant anger pierced her that he should disapprove of people he didn’t even know. ‘Anyway…I don’t mean to be rude…it’s really none of your business.’

‘How old are you? Seventeen…eighteen?’

Marianne stopped fiddling with the sugar bowl on the table and stared at him with the hardest gaze she could muster. ‘For your information, I’m twenty-four—and quite capable of looking after myself and making my own decisions without the interference or permission of anyone else, including parents if they were around!’

‘It is just that you appear much younger…’ Eduardo murmured, his returning gaze completely unapologetic.

‘It’s hardly my fault if genetics or fate has made me look younger than I am!’

‘I am not criticising the way you look, Marianne.’ His voice softened, and so did his gaze. ‘I am just concerned that you would choose to put yourself in what could potentially be a very vulnerable position. Can you not find somewhere else…somewhere safer where you might perform your songs?’

‘There’s a folk club I sing at sometimes…but it’s only open once every fortnight. I’d get very rusty if that was my only outlet. Besides…’ Fearing his judgement and disapproval, Marianne slotted her defences firmly into place. ‘The vendors that work in the market look out for me. Someone immediately comes over if it looks like anyone is bothering me.’

Eduardo sighed. ‘That at least makes me feel a little easier about the situation.’

‘Well, please don’t give it another thought. I’ve been singing outside for over a year now, and nothing dire has happened to me yet!’

The waitress brought their coffee, along with two generous slices of the fruitcake Eduardo had ordered for them. Marianne added sugar to her drink and stirred it.

His expression at her words revealed more alarm than reassurance, and her companion reached into his inside coat pocket for his wallet, extracted something, and held it out to her. Initially thinking he was going to offer her money, Marianne was about to give him short shrift when she thankfully saw that he was actually offering her a small business card.

‘What’s this for?’

‘If you ever need anything…’

‘What could I possibly need from a complete stranger?’ For some inexplicable reason she found herself precariously close to tears. Some renegade emotion had crept up on her undetected, until it was almost too late to rein it in again. It had been happening a lot lately.

The Brazilian firmed his mouth. ‘A job, for one thing…And, seeing as we are sitting here together having coffee, I hope I am no longer a stranger. If this weather gets much colder—and the forecast is not good for the rest of January—you might appreciate an alternative way to earn some money. A job that would also provide a roof over your head and good, nourishing food to eat.’

‘What kind of job?’ Intrigued now, despite herself, Marianne glanced out of the window at the steel-grey sky and the threat of even more sleet and snow. An involuntary tremor went through her.

‘I need a housekeeper.’ The broad shoulders beneath the fawn-coloured cashmere lifted, then fell again.

‘A housekeeper?’

‘I already have a valet to do the personal things I need help with…but, having resided here for almost a year now, I find it has become increasingly clear that some extra help in the house would be most welcome. At present I hire contract cleaners, and Ricardo—my valet—does the cooking. But if you can cook too that would alleviate him of that particular task and no doubt be most welcome. Give it some thought and ring me if you would like to give it a try. The house is a little remote, but if you do not mind that and enjoy beautiful countryside views then I do not think you will be disappointed.’

‘And you would give me this job without even knowing if I could do it?’ Marianne’s hazel eyes were sceptical.

‘You seem a very independent sort of person to me…the type who would learn quickly, get on with things and not make a fuss. I am sure you would work out just fine.’

‘Are you normally so trusting of people you don’t even know? I could be anyone! What if I pinched the silver, or some priceless family heirloom whilst under your roof?’

Astonishingly, both corners of Eduardo’s severe mouth lifted at the same time. For a moment Marianne’s breath caught at the flash of humour that transformed his compelling pale blue eyes.

‘Would a girl who sings in the street for pennies and hands me back a fifty-pound note, telling me to give it to the homeless, be likely to steal even a crust of bread from her employer?’ He shook his head, his expression reverting to seriousness again. ‘I do not think so.’

‘Well, I thank you for your concern, as well as the offer of a job, but I’m not ready for a change just yet. As long as there’s not a full-blown blizzard then I’ll continue to sing outside for the foreseeable future.’

‘Very well…That is your decision, of course. Why don’t you try your fruitcake? It looks very good.’