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‘Haven’t you?’
Arden took a deep breath. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘all right, this is enough. I am not going to stand here, in my own bedroom, and—and defend myself against a pack of lies!’
Lithgow sank down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, the very portrait of despair. ‘I’m so upset,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I should have known. She asked me to stop by and accompany her to the party—’
‘I never did,’ Arden said furiously. She spun towards the stranger. ‘Dammit, do I look as if I’m going to a party?’
The green eyes narrowed and swept over her again, and even though her robe was tightly closed Aden felt as if that gaze were stripping her naked. After a moment, his eyes met hers and a muscle knotted in his cheek.
‘That depends on what kind of party you mean.’
Arden sprang forward, her hand upraised, but he caught it easily, his fingers curling around her wrist, pressing down against the nerves that lay in the soft underside so that she gasped with pain.
‘You have already miscalculated in your dealings with one man tonight, señorita. I urge you not to make the same mistake with another.’
‘You,’ she hissed, ‘you—’
The bed creaked as Lithgow rose to his feet. He walked forward slowly, then he cleared his throat.
‘Señor,’ he said, ‘have you a family? If you do, you will understand my concern for those nearest and dearest to me.’
The stranger gave a little laugh. ‘Without question, señor.’
Arden blew out her breath. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said. ‘Has the world gone crazy? Isn’t anyone concerned about me? I’m the one who needs protecting; I’m the one who was—’
‘I should never have let this—this Jezebel lure me to her room to—to try and destroy me.’
‘He’s lying,’ Arden said angrily. “Don’t you hear it in his voice? Can’t you see it in his face?’
The stranger didn’t even look at her. ‘If you’re asking me to be discreet—’
‘Yes. Exactly. As one man to another—’
‘You have my word on it, señor.’ He turned slowly towards Arden. ‘Unless, of course, the señorita is correct, and you are lying.’ Lithgow began a sputtering protest, but the stranger silenced him with a look. He turned to Arden, who gave him a hesitant smile.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I kept hoping he couldn’t take you in, but I wasn’t—’
“There would be no point in my pledging my silence, if that is the case,’ he said softly, his eyes locked with hers, ‘since the lady will wish to call the police and press charges. Isn’t that right, señorita?’
Arden ran her tongue over her lips. ‘The police?’
‘Of course. If what you say of tonight’s events is true, you will call them and I will tell them what I saw when I first entered the room, you and this gentleman lying in each other’s arms, on that bed.’
‘We weren’t in each other’s arms,’ she said, her face white. ‘I mean, we were, but only because—because he was trying to force me to—to—’
‘Yes, so you’ve said.’ He smiled, and Arden thought it was the coldest excuse for a smile she had ever seen. ‘The question is, do you wish to make that same statement to the authorities?’
‘Yes. Of course. I—I—’
She fell silent. She would not only be making it to the authorities, she thought frantically, she would be making it to her employers also, and who would they believe, her—or one of their own?
‘Well?’
Arden looked up. The man was watching her, all attempts at pleasantry gone from his face. ‘What will it be, Senorita Miller? Shall I accept your version of Rashomon, or his?’
Her gaze flew to Lithgow; she saw the faint gleam of perspiration on his brow and told herself to remember that one sign of weakness, for she suspected it would be her only victory in this ugly encounter, and then her shoulders slumped.
‘Get out of my room,’ she whispered. ‘Both of you. Get out, do you hear me? Get out!’
Lithgow breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, sir, thank you.’ He stuck out his hand ‘If I can ever be of assistance...?’
The stranger looked at the outstretched hand as if it were diseased. ‘I have no more use for men who ignore the rules of morality than I have for women who invite them to do so.’ He nodded to Arden. ‘Buenas noches, señorita. It is my fond wish that our paths do not cross again.’
Tears of rage blinded her as he turned and strode from the room. ‘You can count on it,’ she called out as she hurried after him. ‘You can absolutely—’ he threw open the door, stepped into the hall, and vanished. ‘Count on it,’ she whispered, her voice breaking. She fell back against the wall and put her hand to her mouth just as Edgar Lithgow came marching past.
‘You needn’t show up at the office tomorrow, Miss Miller,’ he said coldly. ‘I’ll have one of the other girls pack your things for you.’
‘You won’t get away with this,’ Arden said in a trembling voice.
Lithgow smiled. ‘I already have,’ he said as he swept out the door.
Arden closed her eyes as the door slammed shut after him.
The worst of it was, he was right.
CHAPTER THREE
A NIGHT’S fitful sleep and the bright dawning of the Costa Rican sun combined to change Arden’s perspective. Last evening’s despair gave way to indignation and then to fury. She had been treated shabbily—although there had to be a better word than that to describe what Edgar Lithgow had pulled on her.
And he’d never have been able to get away with it without the help and support of that damnable drifter. It was amazing how quickly the two men had joined forces against her. Arden’s mouth turned down as she zipped up the skirt of her blue gabardine suit. Apparently, you didn’t have to travel in the same social circle to come to the aid and assistance of a brother rat!
But Lithgow would be on his own this morning. He wouldn’t have the stranger to back him up. God, how she despised that man! She grimaced as she brushed her hair back from her face. Lithgow was bad enough, but the other man—how dared he take Lithgow’s side, all but calling her a slut and a liar?
Rashomon, indeed, she thought as she slammed the door to her room and set off down the hall. Not all the clever literary references in the world could disguise the simple truth. The man was an arrogant bastard, a male chauvinist of the worst sort. He’d shown what he thought of women during their first encounter, when he’d tried to pick her up. What had come later—his incredibly easy switch from rescuer to accuser—had only proved it to be true.
And he’d probably got an extra kick out of coming to Lithgow’s assistance. After all, she’d spurned his advances, hadn’t she, and probably wounded that delicate male ego of his—
Arden caught her breath. The door to the stranger’s room swung open just as she reached it—but it wasn’t he who stepped into the hall, it was the chambermaid, dragging her cleaning cart after her.
‘Good morning,’ Arden said with a little smile of relief.
The girl nodded. ‘Buenos dias, señorita.’
Arden glanced into the room as she walked past it. It was empty, the bed made and ready for the next guest. He was gone then, she thought, and thank God for small favours.
She had no wish to ever lay eyes on his face again. If she did, she might well finish what she’d started last night and punch him right in the jaw.
There was a lilt to her step as she marched towards the lift. More to the point, his absence was her ace in the hole.
It meant that, today, Edgar Lithgow was strictly on his own.
Arden’s counter-attack was carefully planned. She’d spent the hour before dawn plotting it from start to finish. She would get to work a little late, just late enough for Lithgow to be lulled into thinking she’d accepted his growled command that she not show up at the office again. The nerve of him! She had done nothing to be ashamed of, and the very first thing she intended to do was make that point—forcefully—to her former boss, for that was exactly what he’d be, as of this morning, after she’d made her short but pointed speech.
‘You’re right,’ she’d say, after she’d marched into his office and shut the door, ‘I won’t press charges—assuming you arrange immediately for my transfer back to the New York office and for my immediate promotion to administrative assistant.’
If he gave her one moment’s argument—if he did, she’d—she’d...
She’d what? She’d collapse like a deflated balloon, that was what, because the only thing worse than the prospect of letting Lithgow get away with this was the thought of having to stand up in a courtroom and describe the humiliation of what had happened. Even worse would be having to explain things to Lithgow’s bosses. They were all the same, his kind of people; she could almost see the knowing little smiles of disbelief they’d give each other.
But things would never get that far. Lithgow wouldn’t call her bluff; he wouldn’t dare. Late last night, after she’d calmed down enough to think, she’d realised that her boss had as much reason to want to keep this quiet as she. Hell, he might even have more! He’d ticked off his sterling qualities for the stranger’s benefit, his community and church affiliations, his status in the company—none of them would change him from the lowlife he was into the decent man everyone believed him to be, but that was all the more reason he wouldn’t want a charge of sexual harassment hanging around his neck.
‘Buenos dias, señ
orita.’
Arden looked up from the menu. ‘Good morning,’ she said, and then she hesitated. Was the waiter looking at her strangely? Come to think of it, had the chambermaid given her this same off-centre smile, as if she knew something Arden didn’t?
She gave a little laugh as she set the menu aside. That was just what she needed now, a touch of paranoia to top things off.
‘I’ll have the melon,’ she said briskly in Spanish, ‘and toast. And a pot of coffee, please.’
She wasn’t hungry, despite having never had supper last night, but there was still time to kill and besides, she’d need all the strength she could garner for the confrontation that lay ahead. Methodically, she ate everything that had been served her, washed it all down with three cups of strong black coffee, then pushed back her chair and rose from the table.
The waiter materialised from out of nowhere and held out a small silver tray bearing the bill for her meal. Arden sank back into her seat and sighed. He wanted her to sign her name and room number, which was fine. It was just that the ritual was never the same. Sometimes you were asked to sign, and other times whatever bill you’d run up was automatically charged to the company’s account.
‘I’ll need a pen,’ she said. The waiter shrugged. ‘Una pluma, por favor, so I can sign for my breakfast.’
He gave her an embarrassed smile. ‘I am sorry, señorita, but I cannot accommodate.’
Arden sighed. ‘No problem,’ she said, opening her bag and digging into it. ‘I have a pen in here somewhere, if I can just—’
‘I meant that I cannot permit you to charge the meal to your room.’ She looked up, startled. ‘It is not my decision,’ he said quickly. ‘It is the decision of Senor Arondo.’
There it was again, that peculiar little smile. A chill of premonition danced along Arden’s spine, but she told herself she was over-reacting. Arondo was the hotel manager, but he’d only been here a couple of weeks. A screw-up was more than likely.
She dug some notes from her purse and tossed them on the tray. ‘Never mind,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘I’ll stop by later and sort things out.’
She made her way to the parking area and headed for the place where she always parked her car. But the green Ford wasn’t there. The slot was empty.
Arden swung around in a circle. Had she forgotten where she’d parked it? It didn’t seem likely, but anything was possible on a morning like this. The lot wasn’t very big; she would be able to see the car in an instant and—
It wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The chill came again, this time sending a shudder through her bones. Don’t bother showing up at work, Lithgow had said, and this morning she’d had to pay for her breakfast—a breakfast that should have gone on the company tab—and now her company-supplied car was missing. It took no great stretch of the imagination to realise what had happened.
Lithgow had already eliminated her as an employee. He’d taken back all the perks of her job.
Arden’s eyes narrowed. Was he really so sure of himself? Well, he was in for a big surprise.
‘Get ready, Mr Lithgow,’ she muttered under her breath, ‘because you’re not going to get away with this!’
Without a car, what should have been a few minutes’ trip to work became a half-hour walk. It was a hot morning and Arden felt sweaty and dishevelled by the time she reached her office. She longed to stop in the ladies’ room to splash cool water on her face, touch up her make-up and fix her hair, but the line between giving Edgar Lithgow enough time to build up a sense of false security and losing the edge she wanted was a narrow one.
It was better to confront him right away, she thought, pushing open the door to his outer office...
She stopped dead in her tracks. Julie Squires was sitting at Arden’s desk. The s.o.b. had certainly moved fast, she thought grimly, and made her way quickly across the room.
‘I want to see Mr Lithgow,’ she said.
Julie shifted in her chair. ‘I’m afraid he’s not here.’
Arden’s brows lifted. ‘Really,’ she said coldly.
‘It’s the truth, honest!’
Arden folded her arms. ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait.’
‘But he won’t be back for a couple of days,’ Julie said, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere than here.
‘Listen,’ Arden said tautly, ‘I’ve sat in that seat, remember?’
‘I don’t know what you—’
‘I’ve smiled just as politely as you and lied through my teeth so I could turn away unwanted visitors for that man!’
The other girl shook her head. ‘I’m telling you the truth! Mr Lithgow was called out of town on urgent business.’
‘What urgent business?’
‘I don’t know. He didn’t—’
‘When will he be back?’
Julie shrugged. ‘I don’t—’
‘I have to see him, Julie,’ Arden said urgently. ‘You’ve got to tell me where he is!’
‘I swear, I don’t know.’ The girl looked around, then leaned forward over her desk. ‘What happened?’ she whispered. ‘I was shocked—we all were—when Lithgow announced he’d had to fire you.’
‘Is that what he said?’
‘Uh huh. He left something for you. I was supposed to send it over to the hotel, along with your things, but since you’re here...’ Julie took an envelope from her desk. ‘There’s a cheque in it,’ she said. Her eyes seemed to narrow just a bit and that same damned smile, the one Arden had seen on the faces of the chambermaid and the waiter, bloomed on her lips. ‘It’s for a lot of money. And he drew it on his own account, not the company’s.’
Arden felt a flush rise in her cheeks. ‘You certainly know a lot about it.’
The girl shrugged. ‘He wrote the cheque while I was standing at his desk. I couldn’t help but see it, could I?’
Arden ripped the envelope open without ceremony, pulled out the cheque, and stared at it. It looked as if Edgar Lithgow had decided not to count on intimidation alone to keep her silent. The cheque was for twenty-five thousand dollars.
Julie cleared her throat. ‘See what I mean?’
