Alex cleared her throat. 'I can assure you I'm twenty-one, sir. And forgive me for suggesting this but is it wise to judge a book by its cover?' She paused, then bowed and said it all over again, in Mandarin.
Mr Li stepped forward at this point and introduced himself as one of the interpreting team. He engaged Alex in a detailed conversation, then bowed to her and said to Max Goodwin, 'Very fluent, Mr Goodwin, very correct and respectful.'
The silence that followed was filled with tension as Max Goodwin locked gazes with her, and then he studied her comprehensively from head to toe again. Maybe not eighteen, he decided. But without any trace of make-up, with her slippery, shiny mass of mousey hair coming loose in all directions from the knot she'd tied it in, with her steel-rimmed spectacles, her tracksuit and sheepskin boots-she'd taken off a bulky jacket on arrival but there was still hardly any shape to her-she did not look soignée and that was what he needed!
Unless-he had another look at Ms Hill-well, it mightn't be impossible. She was fairly tall, always a plus when you were a little on the dumpy side, figure-wise. Her hands were actually slim and elegant, her skin was actually rather creamy, and her eyes …
He narrowed his own and made a request. 'Would you take your glasses off for a moment?'
Alex blinked, then did as requested and Max Goodwin nodded. Her eyes were a clear, fascinating tawny hazel.
'Uh,' he said, 'thanks, Margaret, I'll handle this for the moment. Thank you, Mr Li. Please sit down, Miss Hill.' He gestured to a brown leather armchair. Alex took a seat and he sat down opposite and laid his arm along the back of the settee. 'Tell me about your background,' he went on, 'and how you come to speak Mandarin.'
'My father was in the Diplomatic Corps. I had-' she smiled '-what you could call a globe-trotting childhood and languages seem to come easily to me. I picked up Mandarin when we lived in Beijing for five years.'
'A diplomatic background,' he said thoughtfully. 'So, do you see yourself working as an interpreter as your career?'
'Not really, but it is a good way of keeping up my skills, and keeping the wolf from the door,' she added humorously. 'But I'm thinking of aiming for the Diplomatic Corps myself. I haven't long been out of university, where I majored in languages.'
He ruffled his dark hair. Then he said abruptly, 'Would you object to a makeover?'
She stared at him and the silence lengthened during which she, quite ridiculously, noted his pale grey tie with navy polka dots and the fact that he had a small scar at the outward end of his left eyebrow.
She cleared her throat. 'You obviously don't think I look the part. I-'
'Do you think you'd feel the part?' he broke in. And he reeled off a list of functions that made Alex blink: cocktail parties, a luncheon, a golf day, a river cruise, a dinner dance amongst them.
'Look,' she interrupted in turn, 'I think we may be wasting each other's time, Mr Goodwin. I simply don't have the wardrobe to cater for all that and I may not have the-what's the word?-elan for it either. Straight interpreting is one thing, this is quite another.'
'I'd provide the wardrobe. You could keep it.'
'Oh. No. I couldn't,' she said awkwardly. 'It's kind of you but, no, thank you.'
'It's not kind at all,' he replied impatiently. 'It would be a legitimate expense in this instance, therefore tax deductible. And it's not as if it would be part of me
"keeping" you in return for specific favours.'
Alex's lips parted. 'Definitely,' she said tartly.
He grinned suddenly, his eyes alight with wicked amusement. 'Why not, then?'
Alex wriggled in her chair, then folded her hands in her lap. 'I would feel-I would feel uncomfortable. I would feel bought even if not for the usual reasons.'
Max Goodwin eyed the ceiling. 'Give 'em all back to me, then. I'm sure I could find someone who'd appreciate them.'
'That would be more appropriate,' she mused, 'but there's something else. To be perfectly honest, I would feel a certain amount of chagrin that you don't consider the real me good enough.'
'It's not that,' he said through his teeth. 'I just don't want you to feel like Cinderella. OK, yes-' he raised his hand '-I also need the other side to take you seriously, therefore a slightly more sophisticated aura would be a help.'
Alex chewed her lip. Part of her would like to decline, she decided. There was plenty about Max Goodwin that rubbed her up the wrong way-sheer arrogance, for one thing. How pleasant would it be to turn the tables on him, though? To prove to him she would not be an embarrassment to him, something he'd barely, just barely, stopped short of saying?
She looked down at herself rather ruefully at that point. She'd had no opportunity to explain why she looked rather dishevelled or why she was dressed the way she was-on a point of pride she wouldn't deign to do so now anyway. But it was a challenge and it could be really interesting.
And there was Simon and his company to consider, not to mention the coming baby …
'I guess I could give it a go,' she said, 'although-' she shrugged '-I didn't that long ago leave my convent, for what it's worth, Mr Goodwin, only about a year ago.'
Something like amazement touched his eyes. 'You were a nun?'
'Oh, no. But my parents died when I was seventeen and a boarder at the convent, so I stayed on. The Mother Superior was related to my father-my only living relative. And I boarded with them during my time at university. She died last year.'
'I-see. Well, I was going to say that explains it, but what does it explain?' he asked himself rhetorically and smiled whimsically.
'It probably explains why I'm a bit of a plain Jane, why I'm used to a simple, useful life,' she told him gravely. 'It doesn't mean to say I can be imposed upon.'
He stared at her. 'You're worried that I might be tempted to take advantage of you, Miss Hill?'
'Sexually? Not in the least,' she returned serenely. 'I would imagine I'm quite out of your league, there, Mr Goodwin. Anyway, for all I know you could be married with a dozen kids.' She paused, as for some reason not clear to her Max Goodwin appeared to flinch.
Then he said, 'I'm not married.' He frowned. 'What, just as a matter of interest, would you imagine my "league" to be?'
'Oh-' Alex waved a hand '-glamorous, sophisticated women of the world.'
He grimaced, but didn't deny the charge. And he said, 'If you're not worried about being imposed upon in that way, what are you worried about?'
'I get the feeling you're a master at getting your own way whatever the cost,' Alex said candidly, and took her glasses off to polish them on her scarf. 'I wouldn't take kindly to that,' she said calmly, but quite definitely, and repositioned her glasses. But it seemed as if Max Goodwin suddenly had his mind on other things. And, indeed, he had, as it occurred to him he'd never seen such remarkable eyes and was it his imagination or-was he unable to resist them?
Of course not, he reassured himself. It was her very correct, fluent Mandarin, obviously. All the same …
'Have you ever tried contact lenses?' he found himself asking. Alex blinked behind her glasses at the abrupt change of topic but, not only that, at the impression she'd got that Max Goodwin had gone from businesslike to personal somehow-but surely that was ridiculous?
'Yes, I do have a pair, but I prefer my glasses,' she said slowly and with a slight frown.
'You should persevere with your lenses,' he told her and stood up. 'OK, let's get this show on the road.' He strode over to his desk and buzzed for Margaret Winston. Margaret, when she came, didn't see a problem in the making over of Alex Hill; she looked relieved instead. Then she became practical.
She named a leading department store and told them they had a customer-service department that assisted in putting together wardrobes, co-ordinating cosmetics and even had their own hair salon. She would get right onto the phone to them, she said, and organize a consultation immediately.
'Thank you, Margaret, that's excellent news. By the way, am I running late again?'
'Yes, Mr Goodwin, you are-I'm just about to ring ahead and advise them.'
'Thanks. Uh-I'd really like to brief Miss Hill. When am I going to have time to do that?'
Margaret thought for a moment. 'I'm afraid it's going to have to be after hours,'