2

The tropical heat made her suit stick to her body and suddenly she realised just how woefully ill-prepared she was to meet this man. She wasn’t even comfortable in her clothes. Stooping to free the spindly heel of her shoe from the careless bite of the wooden planks beneath her feet, Grace clutched the briefcase in her hand and suddenly wished she’d gone over the figures one more time in the helicopter.

But what difference would that have made? With the help of her father, she’d committed them to memory. There was nothing in her briefcase that wasn’t already fiXed in her mind.

Jerking her shoe from the jaws of the walkway, she regained her balance and straightened.

And saw him.

He stood directly in front of her, as dark and dangerous as anything that might have prowled out of the jungle, his body completely still, his eyes watchful.

And he was watching her.

Entirely unprepared for the physical impact of the man, Grace ceased to breathe. The helicopter, the rainforest and all her problems just seemed to melt into the background and she was conscious only of him.

His tarnished reputation had caused her mind to conjure up physical

images that were so far removed from reality that for a moment Grace couldn’t do anything except stare, as hundreds of women had undoubtedly stared before her.

His eyes locked on hers with the lethal accuracy of a deadly weapon and the breath left her body and every thought was sucked from her mind. For a wildly unsettling moment she couldn’t remember anything about herself. She couldn’t remember what she was doing here. Her body felt strangely lethargic and warmth as thick as treacle spread slowly through her limbs.

‘Miss Thacker?’ The hard bite of his deep, masculine voice was sufficient to wake her from her dreamy contemplation of his manly attributes and she gave a little start, desperately hoping that he hadn’t noticed her embarrassing reaction.

So much for being cool and businesslike, she thought. And so much for her plan not to look at him. His physical presence and his film-star looks demanded attention. As she stood there gaping, it was a struggle to remind herself that this man was said to be ruthless and cold-hearted. For her, that wasn’t a winning combination of character traits.

Looking into his deep-set, cynical eyes, she decided that there was something about his cool scrutiny that made him more menacing and intimidating than all the jungle predators put together and she knew in an instant that his pilot had been telling the truth about one thing—this man was no angel.

Forcing her legs to move, she walked towards him, her briefcase in one hand, the other seeking the reassurance of the rough rope handrail.

Even without the benefit of billions of dollars, Rafael Cordeiro would

have attracted women. His hair was blue-black and swept back from a face that was as hard as it was handsome. The golden sheen of his bronzed skin betrayed his Brazilian heritage and the soft fabric of his casual shirt clung to shoulders that were wide and powerful.

She watched for his reaction to her arrival but he revealed nothing. His mouth didn’t shift into a smile and his eyes, so dark and brooding, showed no sign of welcome. It seemed that he was as unfriendly as he was handsome and the way he was looking at her made her want to sprint back up the walkway and leap into the departing helicopter.

If she hadn’t known better she would have thought she’d upset him in some way but she knew that wasn’t possible. How could she possibly have upset him? He’d never even met her before. His animosity was a reflection of his personality, rather than their relationship. He just wasn’t a people person. And clearly he wasn’t about to make an exception for her.

And it didn’t matter, she told herself firmly.

She didn’t need him to like her. She just needed him to agree not to withdraw his finance. Keeping that in mind, she took the last few steps until she was standing directly in front of him. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Cordeiro.’

His mouth tightened and his eyes gleamed with impatience. ‘This isn’t a social visit or a children’s party, Miss Thacker. I don’t want or expect polite. I don’t do small talk or pleasantries. I don’t care about the weather or the nature of your journey. If you find that approach to business challenging, then you’d better leave now.’

And a good afternoon to you, too, she thought, trying to hide her

mounting dismay.

Suddenly she wanted to do precisely as he suggested. Staring into those deadly, dark eyes, she really, really wanted to leave. But the helicopter was already far above them and the reason for her visit was still safely stowed away in her briefcase. She couldn’t leave. She had a job to do.

People depending on her.

‘I can do facts and figures,’ she said quickly, hoping that he couldn’t see that her legs were shaking. ‘I have all the documents in my briefcase. Everything you’ll need to help you make a decision.’

‘I’ve already made a decision. My answer is no.’ His jaw was roughened by dark stubble and she watched as a muscle flickered in his lean cheek.

‘But you made that decision before you had a chance to talk to me.’ She wiped a damp hand over her skirt, refusing to allow him to squash her natural optimism. ‘I’m hoping that once I’ve explained what’s happening, you might rethink.’ ‘Why would I do that?’

Unease blossomed to life inside her. ‘Once you see the figures and our plans for the future, I thought you might change your mind about withdrawing the finance.’ She watched his face hopefully, searching for something—anything—that might indicate that he was receptive to further negotiation on the topic. Anything that might indicate that she hadn’t wasted her time coming here.

But he didn’t answer. He gave her no reassurance or encouragement. No hope at all. He just watched her and from behind her in the trees came a sharp wail, followed by what sounded like maniacal laughter.