When in Rio Read Free Page A

the mirror some more, gathering up my hair and twisting the long, unruly mahogany locks into a loose ponytail with one hand. I liked the look, the way it left my neck exposed…and I suddenly realized Jack was staring. At my neck or my neckline and possibly even the region I didn’t like the mailroom guy to look at.
    Dropping my hair like it was on fire, I dashed back into the dressing room and changed into my tame cargo shorts and little t-shirt, slipping my flip-flops back on. I half wished I’d kept on the businesslike slacks and blouse I’d flown in, rather than opting for my single change of just-in-case clothing.
    I bought the dress and, as an impulse buy, added a hair clip with a frill of floral black-and-garnet-colored silk. I would wear my hair up tonight if I wanted to, I thought sulkily. Jack was waiting by the door after I finished paying for things and I thought I saw a hint of a smirk on his lips, but he didn’t say anything as he led me down the street. Hand once again pressed firmly to the small of my back, which I tried to think of as a sensible precaution against getting separated in the crowd.
    I spotted one, two, three stores with bathing suits in the window, but wanted to avoid thinking of modeling suits the way I had just inadvertently modeled dresses in the boutique. So I stuck to the safe course of suggesting we get Jack something next, for the evening’s festivities. He nodded in the direction of a shop a bit farther down the street, one that showed menswear in the window.
    Jack took more time than I thought he’d need to decide on a pair of very crisp, flax-colored linen pants, a subtly striped cream-colored shirt and a navy sports coat, also in a linen blend. No tie, but the salesman tucked a pocket square of bright red into the breast pocket as the tailor was fussing about at Jack’s ankles, pinning up cuffs.
    I was floored when, after seeming to consider it for a moment, Jack frowned at the salesman, shook his head and said something that sounded like, “ A senhora desgasta o vermelho escuro hoje à noite . ”
    No. No way. No fair. He spoke Portuguese? No wonder he was the senior exec selected to come to the very cool, very costly conference in Rio. But still— no fair ! And what had he said, anyway? Because the salesman was looking at me now, appraisingly I thought. And appreciatively, I sincerely hoped, as he nodded and smiled and then spoke to Jack again. He spoke, then Jack spoke, then he spoke again and then both of them laughed, ha ha ! Even the laugh sounded Portuguese. And then the salesman supplied a handkerchief in a lemony-creamy silk that picked up the sheen in the shirt, and Jack nodded and seemed to be making some sort of arrangement with the tailor. Presumably to have the whole thing altered and delivered to the hotel tonight, from the gestures. I wondered what sort of premium he’d have to pay for that. Probably considerably less than any premium he could have negotiated in English.
    “Bathing suit for you next,” Jack said breezily as we stepped out into the street. He had changed into more casual clothing in the dressing room at the store. He’d purchased and now wore the male equivalent of my own outfit, except that his multipocketed shorts and t-shirt hung loosely, whereas mine were just formfitting enough for fashion. He’d replaced loafers and socks with a pair of worn leather deck shoes he’d brought along, and I couldn’t fail to notice that his legs were nicely shaped and he had a hint of tan.
    I’d seen him wear casual clothes before of course, at company picnics and the like. But here, the change seemed to go deeper than just clothes. He seemed more relaxed all over all of a sudden, almost like a tourist.
    “They’ll be bringing all that to the hotel later,” he explained.
    “I gathered that,” I said dryly. “So. Portuguese, huh? I’m assuming there’s a story behind that?” We had already shared quite a few personal stories, actually, over the