took a deep breath. ‘Did you say tent?’
For the first time since they had met Lukas looked happy. As he resumed his seat he actually smiled. ‘Yes. Two-man tents. Didn’t Miss Bishop mention that?’ He poured himself some more coffee. ‘We’re camped south of Nairobi, on the Athi River. Did you think we were shooting in Nairobi?’
George said nothing. She was speechless. She hadn’t had much time to think about the shoot itself. She had thought her only problem was Lukas. But her father had known nothing of that incident. He did know, however, that she hated camping. That she loathed insects of any description and, worst of all, she was terrified of the dark. Pa was certainly getting his pound of flesh out of her.
Two weeks of Lukas, to ensure a better life for some youngsters who needed her help, had seemed a small price to pay. Too small. She should have known her father better than that. He was challenging her at long distance. How badly did she believe in her refuge? She drew in a deep, steadying breath. Badly enough.
‘We may be able to get another tent from somewhere,’ Lukas went on doubtfully, a speculative look in his eye, at her sudden pallor. ‘Although we had the very devil of a job to get the ones we’re using. But if you won’t mind being on your own …’ Lukas helped himself to some toast, his appetite apparently restored. ‘I suppose as long as you don’t wander about at night you should be safe enough.’ She stared at him as he bit into the toast, exposing a row of even white teeth, then shuddered. ‘Do you normally wear glasses, George?’
‘Glasses?’ In her shock she had forgotten all about them. George ducked, quickly replacing her disguise. ‘Oh, yes. Always. I can’t do without them.’
Lukas shook his head. ‘Just for the moment I thought I had seen you somewhere before. The colour of your eyes is … unusual.’
‘Perhaps we’ve passed in my father’s office,’ she said quickly, making a determined effort to pull herself back into her role. ‘Although I’m sure I would have remembered,’ she gushed.
‘Your father’s office?’ She could almost hear the cogs working as he took in what she had said. ‘Charles is your father?’ He stared in disbelief. ‘Miss Bishop said in her telex to expect a young relative of Sir Charles … but then I knew he only had daughters …’
‘And you were expecting a man!’ She forced herself to laugh out loud at this wonderful joke.
She saw a sudden spark of hope light his dark eyes. ‘Well, Miss Bainbridge … sorry, George,’ he corrected himself, making a belated attempt at friendliness. ‘I realise that you can’t possibly be expected to share a tent with me. It would be most improper. Your father …’
George found herself unexpectedly offered a get-out. Lukas didn’t want her. He would rather have no assistant at all than this badly dressed, unattractive creature. Her skill was of no importance to him, she reflected bitterly.
She could go home and say, quite truthfully, that when Lukas had found out that it was a girl they had sent him he had said no, thank you. But she had the strongest feeling that she wouldn’t be believed. Who would believe such a ridiculous story? And Pa wouldn’t keep his promise to help with the refuge. Oh, no, Mr Lukas, she thought as she sipped her coffee. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And she took comfort from the fact that her enforced presence on the shoot was as irritating for Lukas as it was for her.
Lukas had his hands on the table in front of him, his fingers laced together, his expression that of a man behaving with the utmost valour. George reached out and patted them kindly. Leaning forward, in a confidential tone she said, ‘Do you know the very last thing Pa said to me yesterday? He said, “George, keep Mr Lukas happy.” So don’t you worry yourself a bit. It will be a relief to share a tent with you. I shall feel completely safe.’ And that too was the truth, she thought grimly, firmly suppressing a shiver at the thought of being alone in a tent in the bush. Anything would be better than that. And she was sure that she would be perfectly safe from any unwanted attentions. There seemed little likelihood of Lukas making a pass at her. ‘Oh, look. Here’s breakfast.’ She gazed at a plate piled high with more than she normally ate in a week for breakfast. ‘Yummy,’ she said, hoping the dismay she felt was not evident in her voice.
Lukas had obviously decided against a cooked breakfast. Instead he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, giving George a chance to study his face as she nibbled a slice of bacon. In repose he looked younger, less dangerous. And his eyelashes were scandalously long. It was a pity he wasted so much time on pointless work: calendars, pin-up girls, beauty competitions. A photographer with his talent and reputation could do a great deal of good with his camera.
‘When you’ve finished we’ll get off.’ He hadn’t opened his eyes and he made her jump. She wondered uneasily if he had been aware of her appraisal.
‘So soon? I would have liked to see a little of Nairobi.’
‘I’m not in the guided-tour business and this isn’t a holiday, Miss … George. If you’re going to be my assistant you had better accept that right now.’ He had stopped being polite, lifting heavy lids slightly to see the effect his words were having on her. ‘Preferably without having to be told twice.’
He had apparently decided that he was stuck with her. But he didn’t like it. And she was ridiculously glad he didn’t like it. But she kept her smile inside. She abandoned her effort to eat another sausage.
‘I’ll get my bags, then.’ He stood up and she waited for him to offer to collect them for her. He didn’t.
‘I’ll be waiting in the jeep. Don’t be long.’
‘No. At least I don’t suppose it will take long to phone home, will it? I did promise Pa I would let him know I had arrived safely.’ Some devil was driving her to annoy him, and she was unable to resist this last gibe.
Lukas placed his hands on the table and leaned across at her, his face very close to hers. She had time to notice that his eyes were grey, flecked curiously with blue, and they were surrounded by small white lines from being screwed up against the sun. It seemed unlikely that they were laughter-lines. A small muscle worked in his jaw.
‘Miss Bainbridge,’ he said heavily, ‘I have wasted enough time today coming to Nairobi to fetch you. I’m going straight back. And if you are going to work for me, so are you. If your father wants to know that you arrived safely he will have to telephone the airline.’
George knew that she had gone too far. She wanted Lukas embarrassed, she wanted him unhappy. Angry she could do without.
‘I’m …’ But he was in full flow and not about to be stopped.
‘When I am working on location I work twenty-four hours a day. Seven days a week. And when I work, everybody works.’ He let his words sink in. Then he continued with obvious relish, ‘As my assistant you will be at my beck and call every moment of your waking life—and your sleeping one if I decide I need you in the night. So perhaps you had better decide where your priorities lie right now. I haven’t the time to run back and forth to Nairobi so that you can telephone your father.’ He stood up. ‘I thought the man had more sense …’ he muttered.
She fumed inwardly. ‘It’s just as well we’ll be sharing a tent, then,’ she replied sharply. ‘I can ask your permission when I need to use the lavatory.’
His eyes narrowed and, realising that she had let her disguise slip, she giggled and hiccuped. ‘But I’d better not tell
