Книга - Bought: Damsel in Distress

Bought: Damsel in Distress
Lucy King


Billionaire's bid. . . Luke Harrison is always in control. But ever since he bid for the chance to save a green-bikinied beauty he's felt his self-possession slipping away. . . Blind date. . . Independent Emily does not want rescuing ; until Luke, a smouldering knight in shining armour, swoops in on his private jet and starts to change her mind! Secret baby?Neither is prepared for the heat between them as Emily unbuttons her steely-eyed billionaire, or for when their no-strings fling leads to pleasure beyond their imagining. . .







She saw her own surprise and confusion, and something else reflected in his eyes. She was too close. She stumbled back, but his hands shot out, and before she realised what was happening he was pulling her back against him, wrapping his arms around her and crashing his mouth down on hers.

Her hands found their way to his back and her fingers bunched the fabric of his jacket, itching to delve underneath to touch his skin everywhere. The hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach. His hand curved round to brush the side of her breast and she moaned into his mouth.

She froze. The sound of her own desperate longing brought her thundering back to reality. What on earth were they doing? Locked together, kissing frantically, about to rip each other’s clothes off. In the lobby of a five-star hotel.

An identical thought had obviously occurred to Luke at exactly the same time. His hands stilled and he pulled back, staring down at her, his eyes so dark they were almost black and his breathing ragged as he struggled to get his body back under control.

‘Oh, dear,’ he said huskily, letting her go, turning on his heel and striding out of the hotel.


Dear Reader

Last year I read an interview with a singer whose sister once needed to get to a funeral in Ireland but was thwarted by rough seas and industrial action. So he put her up for auction on the internet as a damsel in distress. The highest bidder whisked her off to the funeral in his helicopter, they fell in love, and six months later they were married. How intriguing and romantic is that?

At around the same time Mills & Boon launched its ‘Feel the Heat’ competition on iheartpresents.com. Aspiring authors were invited to submit the first chapter and a synopsis of a Modern Heat™ story. My mind raced with possibilities. What sort of girl might end up for auction on the internet, and why would a man bid for her? And just how turbulent can the journey towards love be? Well, if you take a workaholic control freak like Luke, and a fun-loving spirit like Emily, it can turn out to be pretty bumpy! Anyway, I sent off my entry and hoped for the best while expecting the worst.

But then, to my utter amazement, I won. The prize was the invaluable advice and support of an editor, and this is the result. My first novel. Actually published. I don’t think the thrill will ever fade.

I hope you enjoy Luke and Emily’s story as much as I loved writing it.

Lucy


Lucy King spent her formative years lost in the world of Mills & Boon


romance when she really ought to have been paying attention to her teachers. Up against sparkling heroines, gorgeous heroes and the magic of falling in love, trigonometry and absolute ablatives didn’t stand a chance.

But, as she couldn’t live in a dreamworld for ever, she eventually acquired a degree in languages and an eclectic collection of jobs. A stroll to the River Thames one Saturday morning led her to her very own hero. The minute she laid eyes on the hunky rower getting out of a boat, clad only in Lycra


and carrying a three-metre oar as if it was a toothpick, she knew she’d met the man she was going to marry. Luckily, the rower thought the same.

She will always be grateful to whatever it was that made her stop dithering and actually sit down to type Chapter One, because dreaming up her own sparkling heroines and gorgeous heroes is pretty much her idea of the perfect job.

Originally a Londoner, Lucy now lives in Spain, where she spends much of the time reading, failing to finish cryptic crosswords, and trying to convince herself that lying on the beach really is the best way to work.

Visit her at www.lucyking.net





BOUGHT: DAMSEL IN DISTRESS


BY




LUCY KING


MILLS & BOON







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)


To my family, for their unfailing support.




CHAPTER ONE


‘YOU must be wondering what sort of girl ends up for auction on the internet,’ said Emily, picking up her glass of champagne and taking a quick sip. If she’d known such a course of action would lead to being swept off to the south of France by a gorgeous man in his private jet she’d have done it years ago, and to hell with what sort of girl it made her.

‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ Luke replied. He reached for his briefcase and flicked open the catches.

Emily settled back into the beige leather seat and looked out of the window, down at the fields and towns outside London as they blurred into ever smaller smudges of grey and green. ‘What conclusions did you draw?’ she said distractedly.

‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

‘That bad?’ Was he being serious? Emily stifled a tiny sigh of defeat. Trying not to stare at the handsome face, broad shoulders and lean body of the man sitting diagonally opposite her, trying not to ogle the big tanned hands extracting a report from a folder, wasn’t working. It was like struggling to ignore the pull of a very strong magnet. Impossible. Her eyes swivelled to the dark head bent over the papers.

‘Unrepeatable,’ he replied, glancing up at her.

There went her stomach again. Slowly flipping over at the combination of eyes the colour of the Mediterranean in summer, the sexy half-smile and the deep, rumbling voice. Swooping in a way that had nothing to do with the flight.

Emily wrinkled her nose. ‘I can imagine. I’d have run through Lonely to Loopy with a stop-off at Desperate on the way. Not that I am any of those, of course,’ she added hastily.

‘Of course not,’ he said, in a tone that suggested he thought just that. ‘How did you guess?’

Ooooh, ouch. ‘I simply imagined what sort of person would respond to an ad like that,’ she replied sweetly.

Luke sat back and fixed her with a coolly amused stare. ‘I see you’ve regained the power of speech. It’s back with a bite.’

Emily fought the urge to squirm under his penetrating gaze and gave him what she thought might look like an apologetic smile. ‘Today has taken on an unexpectedly surreal quality. I’m only just getting my head round it.’

The moment they’d met, the instant she’d put her hand in his to shake it, she’d been struck uncharacteristically dumb. Her body had felt as though it had received a thousand-volt charge. Her heart had jumped and she’d gone momentarily dizzy, the blood racing to parts of her body that had been out of action for so long she’d forgotten she had them. She’d never experienced sexual attraction like it, and it was making her feel slightly unhinged.

‘You don’t invite strange men to transport you to foreign countries often?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side.

‘I don’t invite strange men to transport me anywhere ever.’

‘In that case why are you here?’

Emily shuddered. ‘You met my sister.’

He nodded. ‘A formidable woman.’

He sounded as if he thought this was an admirable quality. Emily frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘You have no idea.’

Four hours earlier

‘You did what?’ Emily nearly dropped her muffin into her cappuccino as her head snapped up and she gaped at her sister.

‘I said I sold you. On the internet.’ Anna glanced at her watch and then wiped her sons’ faces.

Emily felt a sliver of concern and raked her gaze over her sister’s immaculate exterior. Had she gone mad? Anna certainly looked normal, but who knew what could be lurking beneath the surface? If this was what motherhood did to a previously perfectly intelligent, clear-thinking woman then she was glad she’d made the decision never to have children herself.

She nodded as if in understanding. ‘Right. You sold me. On the internet. Aren’t there laws against things like that?’

‘Apparently not. It was surprisingly easy,’ replied Anna, calmly folding the tissue and placing it on her empty plate.

‘You are joking, aren’t you?’

Anna fixed Emily with a stern stare. ‘Not at all. I’m deadly serious.’

It was a look Emily was very familiar with. As realisation dawned, her smile slipped from her face. ‘Oh, my God. You are serious.’

‘Of course. I wouldn’t joke about a thing like this.’

Emily began to hyperventilate.

‘Now, don’t get hysterical,’ said Anna, thrusting a glass of water into her hand. ‘Deep breaths...If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t exactly sell you.’

Emily flapped her other hand in front of her face and fought for breath. ‘So what did you sell?’ she said, when she was finally able to speak.

Anna shrugged. ‘A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. In this age of equality, a chance to be chivalrous. The rescue of a damsel in distress.’

What? Since when had her sister developed a romantic streak? ‘And I’m the damsel?’

Anna nodded.

‘But why would you do that?’ Emily asked, utterly bewildered. ‘I’m not in distress.’

‘You are. The French baggage handlers are on strike.’

Oh, no, not this again.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ said Anna indignantly. ‘Your obstinate refusal to go to Tom’s wedding is not healthy. You haven’t been out for so much as a drink with anyone since you split up. That’s not a single date in over a year. You need closure, and you’re not going to get it until you see the rat safely hitched to some other poor woman. Then you’ll be able to move on.’

‘He may have dumped me and got engaged to an aristocratic French floozy two months later, but he’s not a rat,’ said Emily wearily, ignoring the sceptical look Anna threw her. ‘And for the millionth time I have moved on.’

Anna glanced at her watch. ‘Talking of moving on, we need to go home.’ She turned, and with an imperceptible nod of her head signalled for the bill.

‘Why?’ Emily said carefully, tendrils of suspicion winding round her nerves.

‘Because the person who won the auction is turning up at any minute.’

Emily gaped in horror. ‘What? Now?’

‘Of course,’ Anna replied, standing up and brushing a crumb off her front. ‘The wedding is tomorrow, isn’t it?’

Emily could only nod in dumb stupefaction.

‘Well, then. You leave this afternoon.’ Anna marched to the bar to pay, leaving Emily to unravel the chaos of the last five minutes. But it was all too much. Where did she start?

‘Who won?’ she managed eventually as they started along the path that led across the common to Anna’s house.

‘A man called Luke Harrison. He was very determined. The bidding went right to the wire. It was gripping stuff, I can tell you.’

‘I’m so glad.’ Emily’s sarcastic tone went unnoticed.

‘So was I. greatsexguaranteed was also extremely persistent, but I had a funny feeling about him.’

‘Can’t think why. So how is this Luke Harrison going to help me get to France?’ Emily panted, struggling to keep up with Anna’s brutal pace.

‘Private jet. Rather inspired, I thought.’

‘But I have plans this weekend. I can’t just drop everything.’

Anna shot her a sceptical look. ‘A pot that urgently needs glazing?’

Emily bit her lip and nodded.

‘You’re twenty-eight. You should be Out There. Meeting men. Not hunched over a wheel with clay under your nails. Pots won’t keep you warm at night.’

Emily glared at Anna mutinously. ‘I have an electric blanket.’

Anna marched on, undeterred.

Emily tried again. ‘How do you know he’s got a plane? How do you know he’s going to turn up? He might be a lunatic. I mean, what sort of person bids for a woman in an internet auction? He could be a kidnapper, a murderer—anyone.’ Her voice was rising, becoming more desperate. Anna merely looked at her witheringly and Emily threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘You’re insane.’

‘I’m a genius. Don’t be so melodramatic. I spoke to his mother on the phone and discovered that we have friends in common.’

Emily’s jaw dropped. ‘His mother?’

‘I had to get references,’ said Anna defensively. ‘You don’t think I’d send you off with just anyone, do you?’

‘I am suddenly at a complete loss as to what you would do.’

‘I’ve arranged for him to pick you up here so that we can check him out first. Just in case.’

Emily ground her teeth. ‘It’ll be a wasted journey. I’m not going.’

Anna stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to her front door and rummaged in her bag for the keys. ‘Think of the charity.’

Emily’s eyes narrowed. ‘What charity?’

‘The money Mr Harrison paid is going to a charity that investigates and helps prevent maternal mortality.’

Emily gasped. A familiar dull pain clenched her heart and she felt the blood drain from her face. ‘That’s a low blow, Anna,’ she said quietly.

‘It’s not meant to be, darling. But I spent years bringing you up and I hate to see you wasting your life over that loser. Will you do it for me?’

Emily wavered. She owed her sister so much. Anna had made huge sacrifices on her behalf. When their father had died, fourteen years after their mother, it had been left to Anna to raise her. And she knew she hadn’t been the easiest of teenagers to handle. Besides, her sister in this mode was unstoppable, and there was only so much battering she could take. Her resistance crumbled and she let out a resigned sigh. ‘OK. Assuming he’s not crazy, or worse, I’ll go. Can I take David with me?’

‘No husband borrowing. Besides, he’s at a conference in New York.’

Emily straightened her spine. ‘Fine. I’ll just have to enter the lion’s den single and strong and shod in killer heels.’

‘They’re already packed.’

Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘How ruthlessly efficient.’

Anna inclined her head. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s not a compliment.’

But Anna wasn’t paying attention. She was staring over Emily’s shoulder, and her expression became dreamy. ‘I think this might be him. Bang on time too.’

Emily turned to look at the man striding towards them. He was tall, broad-shouldered and very good-looking, and a dart of awareness shivered through her. ‘If it is,’ she murmured, watching the sun glinting off his dark hair, ‘I may just forgive you.’

After that her composure had taken such a hammering she couldn’t really remember what had happened. Her sensible court-shoe-wearing sister had batted her eyelashes and giggled her way through some very rudimentary questions about his integrity and his intentions, had established that Luke Harrison was single, solvent, and in possession of a plane, and had then bundled Emily into his car without so much as a backward glance. Was it any wonder that she’d been unable to formulate a sensible sentence throughout the journey to the airport?

‘So, why are you here?’

Luke’s voice jerked her out of her reverie. ‘Oh, er—’ She stopped. She could hardly tell him the truth. Revealing that she was heading to her ex-fiancé’s wedding to another woman would rather negate her earlier declaration that she was neither lonely nor desperate. ‘A friend’s getting married near Nice, and Anna was under the misapprehension that I wanted to go to the wedding.’

‘Scheduled airlines a little pedestrian?’

Emily bristled. ‘Of course a man who has a private plane wouldn’t know about anything as trivial as industrial action, but for us mere mortals a baggage handlers’ strike does tend to put a spanner in the works.’

Luke had the grace to look a little apologetic. Only fleetingly, but it was enough to mollify her. ‘The only flights that weren’t cancelled were full. Which suited me fine.’ Emily twiddled a lock of hair around her finger. ‘I have better things to do with my weekend than go to a wedding I don’t want to attend.’

‘Why didn’t you say so earlier? I could have dropped you home on the way to the airport.’

‘I did think about it, but Anna probably has her spies ready and waiting in France, primed to report back on my every move from the moment I arrive. You saw her earlier. She’d broken into my house to pack and pick up my passport. She didn’t tell me that she’d put me up for auction until about half an hour before you showed up, and even then she deliberately waited until we were in a public place so I couldn’t throttle her.’ Not to mention the emotional blackmail that Anna had deployed with such success. Emily sighed. ‘She’s utterly devious. It’s not worth the grief. I’ll just have to grin and bear it and count down the hours until you take me back.’

‘She went to a hell of an effort so that you could attend this wedding. Why would she do that if she knew you didn’t want to go?’

Emily shrugged evasively. Those blue eyes of his were far too probing for her comfort. ‘Beats me. Before she went on maternity leave she used to troubleshoot for one of the big accountancy firms. I think she’s been missing the challenge. Do you have siblings?’

‘No. I do, however, have relatives with an over-zealous interest in my well-being, so I can sympathise.’

‘Perhaps they should meet. We could cast them into a parallel universe where they’re forced to watch reality TV on a ten-minute loop for all eternity.’

One corner of Luke’s mouth lifted and Emily was instantly transfixed by the movement. What did his lips feel like? she wondered. Soft or firm? What would they feel like moving over hers? Her own mouth tingled at the thought and her pulse leapt. An image of him tugging her into his arms, plastering her up against that hard body, kissing her senseless slammed into her head, making her dizzy and breathless. Then she noticed his smile fading. When she looked up his face was blank, but his eyes had darkened to indigo.

Something resembling irritation flashed across his face. Emily swallowed and tried to get a grip. ‘So, what exactly did the advert say?’

‘It offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be a knight in shining armour. The chance to rescue a damsel in distress. And mentioned the more prosaic need for a plane, a passport and a free weekend.’

Emily bit her lip and nodded. Then she frowned. ‘That’s it?’

‘There was a photo.’

She went cold. ‘A photo?’ Oh, God. ‘Which one?’

‘You were on a beach.’

Emily went even colder. Please, no. She took a deep breath. ‘Green bikini?’

‘That’s the one.’

Freezing to red hot in under a second. It had to be a record, she thought, as her cheeks burned. If it was the picture she was thinking of, she was wearing a green rather-on-the-small-side bikini. In fact, she wasn’t so much wearing it as falling out of it. ‘I’m going to kill her,’ she muttered.

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ she spluttered. Oh, the humiliation.

‘You had over a hundred people bidding for you.’

‘Really?’ Emily’s pride swelled for a moment, before mortification squashed it. She dropped her head in her hands. ‘How could she do that?’ she mumbled. ‘Of all the photos...I don’t know why she didn’t just put a flyer in a phone box and be done with it.’

Luke laughed and the sound rumbled right through her, scrambling her brain momentarily.

‘Dare I ask which category she put me in?’

‘Are you sure you want to know?’

‘Not entirely. But you might as well complete my humiliation.’

‘Collectibles. Decorative Objects.’

Emily groaned. It went from bad to worse. How long could she stay there with her head buried in her hands? For ever? At some point she’d have to look up. Denial, that was the thing. Generally she wasn’t a fan of denial, but this was an exceptional circumstance.

Fixing a neutral expression on her face, Emily lifted her head and shot him a curious glance. ‘Why did you bid?’

Luke went still and his gaze dropped to his papers. Then he shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure.’

A flicker of something that Emily couldn’t identify passed over his face. Whatever his motives had been, like her, he wasn’t sharing. ‘A rash impulse?’ she suggested helpfully, when no further answer seemed forthcoming.

Luke sat back and looked at her, that faint smile still playing around his mouth and doing all sorts of strange, fluttery things to her stomach.

‘Maybe it appealed to my adventurous side.’

Emily considered this. Adventurous? For a man who must regularly fly by private jet? She shook her head. ‘Nope, sorry, I’m sticking with the rash impulse.’

‘Maybe I was intrigued by the idea of being a knight in shining armour.’

Right. Sure. She didn’t believe that for a second either. ‘With a plane instead of a horse?’

‘A suit instead of the armour.’

‘Same thing sometimes,’ she batted back.

He tilted his head and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Very true,’ he said finally.

‘With a laptop instead of a lance,’ she added, tapping a finger against her mouth. ‘Of course, no real knight would be anything without a castle.’

Luke rubbed his jaw. ‘A castle?’

‘At the very least. A palace would be ideal.’

‘Would a penthouse in Mayfair do instead?’

She pretended to give it some consideration. ‘Lots of chrome and steel and glass and thoroughly pointless gadgets?’

Luke nodded. ‘Goes without saying.’

‘In that case, congratulations. You’re really rather well-qualified for the role of knight.’

‘Thank you. How well-suited are you to being a damsel in distress?’

‘Not well at all, I’m afraid,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘No flowing locks and no ivory tower.’

‘No evil father and wicked stepmother either, I hope.’ Amusement glinted in his eyes.

‘No parents at all,’ she said evenly.

The amusement faded. ‘I’m sorry.’

Emily shrugged. ‘Don’t be. They died a long time ago.’ The lightness of her tone belied the clench of her heart. She knew it did. She’d spent years perfecting it. Swallowing down the lump that had lodged in her throat, she gave him a bright smile. ‘So, knights in shining armour aside, do you often look for women on the internet?’

From the scowl that appeared on his face, Emily deduced that he didn’t appreciate what she was implying. ‘Sorry,’ she said, flushing slightly. ‘That didn’t come out quite the way I expected.’

Luke picked up his pen and uncapped it. ‘It’s an inevitable assumption. But, no, I don’t trawl the internet looking for women.’

Of course he didn’t, she mused. He probably had women tripping over themselves to appear on his arm. He clearly hadn’t entered into the bidding war because he’d been over-whelmed by her curves.

‘A friend of mine e-mailed me the link. I was going to Nice anyway. I was curious.’

Bizarre. It was bizarre enough to be true. She hardly knew him. It might be exactly the sort of thing he would do. How did she know?

‘Just out of interest, how much did I fetch?’

He smiled suddenly at her, and her breath caught. ‘Do you want it in dollars, euros or pounds? It’s a global market out there, you know.’

She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘An estimate will do.’

‘Around six figures.’

Emily nearly knocked over her glass.

‘Are you mad?’

His jaw tightened. ‘Very possibly.’

A tiny trickle of ice shivered down her spine at his tone. He wasn’t joking. Emily stared at him as he raked a hand through his hair and yanked open the top button of his shirt. On a plane with a madman, however gorgeous, was not top of her list of ideal scenarios and if he’d said ‘yes’ instead of ‘possibly’ she’d be reaching for the nearest parachute. ‘At least it’s tax deductible.’

‘There is that,’ he agreed.

‘Why are you going to Nice?’

‘Meetings in Monte Carlo.’

She tilted her head. ‘Convenient.’

‘You don’t believe me.’

Emily shot him an assessing glance. ‘I’m not sure.’

He clutched his chest as if in pain. ‘I’m wounded.’

‘I’m devastated that you’re wounded.’

‘You should be. Your sister accepted my reasons without question.’

Did she? Emily’s eyes narrowed. ‘My sister’s brain has been pulverised by motherhood,’ she said darkly.

‘You’re more wary?’

‘Maybe,’ she murmured, wrenching her eyes from his and looking down at where her fingers were playing with the ends of the scarf tied round her head.

That particular avenue of conversation was not one she wanted to pursue. Weaving the strands between her fingers, she found herself wondering whether it was true. She’d spent hours analysing her relationship with Tom and what had gone wrong, but she hadn’t looked at the effects it had left behind.

She probably had become more wary since breaking up with him, she acknowledged, her brow creasing. Five years with the same man was a long time, even if the last year had been pretty rocky, and her dating skills were rusty. Plus, she thought she’d known her ex-fiancé inside out, and it turned out she hadn’t known him at all.

Perhaps Anna was right. Perhaps she did need closure. It wasn’t normal for a girl of twenty-eight to hang up her dating shoes. She did need to get Out There.

At least her reaction to Luke proved that she was still capable of feeling sexual desire. Emily stole a peek at him from beneath her lashes just to make sure that it was still there. He was reading a report with amazing speed, underlining sections, writing notes, his long fingers flicking though the pages, almost caressing the paper. Oh, yes, sexual desire was definitely still there, if the bolt of fire that spread through her was any proof. Her gaze slid up to where a wedge of chest was exposed by the open collar of his shirt. Her focus zoomed in on the fine dark hairs that emerged from the bottom of the V, and she had to ball her hands into fists to stop her fingers whipping up and ripping open another couple of buttons.

‘I can’t concentrate on my report if you keep staring at me like that.’

Emily froze. Oh, God. He was watching her watching him! Had she been caught in the act? How excruciating. She tentatively lifted her gaze further, fully expecting to see a mocking glint in his eyes, but he was still looking down. That was even worse: he’d been able to feel her eyes devouring him. She went crimson and clapped her hands to her cheeks, turning an involuntary groan of shame into a lengthy cough.

‘Would you like some water?’ he enquired mildly, still apparently absorbed.

She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll get it.’ Standing up and moving around would do her good. It might even give her body the opportunity to redistribute her blood away from her face. ‘I wouldn’t want your concentration to be disturbed any further,’ she added, levering herself out of the seat.

She wandered across the cream carpet towards the drinks cabinet where Luke had poured her champagne when they’d boarded. What a way to travel. No interminable check-in queues, no stuffing your case into an overfilled overhead locker and yourself into an uncomfortable seat. And a travelling companion that looked like Luke. Her skin prickled and she went warm.

‘Would you like anything?’ she asked, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge and filling a glass. She pressed the cold bottle against her cheek and felt it cool her overheated body.

Sticking a hand in the back pocket of her jeans, she took a sip and bent down to look out of the window at the great expanse of azure sky.

‘No, thanks. And you’re disturbing me.’

Emily blinked, instantly aware that her skin had prickled, was still tingling, because his eyes had been burning into her back. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said calmly. ‘You’re watching me.’

A pause, and then, ‘Like I said, you’re disturbing me.’




CHAPTER TWO


EMILY went still while her body temperature rocketed. Had he really just said that? Did it mean what she thought it meant? She straightened and turned, eyes wide, not quite sure what to say next.

Luke wasn’t in his seat. He’d moved to the fax machine and was shuffling the pages into the feeder. What with the hum of the engines and the thickness of the carpet she hadn’t heard him move.

She took a deep breath. ‘Am I?’ she said.

Luke didn’t break from what he was doing. ‘Are you what?’

‘Disturbing you?’

‘Not at all,’ he said, whipping round and flashing her a brief smile. ‘Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything you like.’

What?

Then she shrugged. She must have misunderstood, she decided, following his movements over the rim of her glass as he strode back to the chair. He picked up his own glass and tossed the contents down his throat. Emily slid back into her seat and watched him as he leaned and twisted over to pull out another report. The muscles in his torso were clearly defined beneath his shirt. He pushed up his sleeves to reveal strong, tanned forearms and her mouth went dry.

Emily didn’t generally have a thing about forearms, but Luke’s were—well, they were making her reconsider. Tanned, muscled, lightly sprinkled with rough hair. She felt a fierce urge to run her hands over them. Her eyes fell to the long brown fingers idly twirling the pen as he concentrated on the report. Compared to the speed with which he’d read the last document, this one seemed hard going. In fact, he hadn’t turned the page once, and he hadn’t underlined a single word or made any notes whatsoever. If pressed, she’d have sworn he was distracted.

She would do the decent thing and rescue him from his torturous report by dazzling him with her conversational skills. But before she could make a start on finding out what made this enticingly enigmatic man tick, Luke shot to his feet and went to pour himself some more water.

‘Don’t you drink?’ she asked when he returned. She’d been merrily sipping away at her champagne since take-off, but he hadn’t touched a drop.

‘Not on a Friday when I’ve got meetings in the afternoon.’

She nodded sagely. ‘Very wise. On the other hand, who arranges meetings on a Friday afternoon? It’s practically the weekend.’

‘I have clients in Monte Carlo. And it’s not the weekend.’

Mmm. ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a fund manager.’

‘Ah, interesting.’

Luke smiled. ‘Not really. Unless you happen to have an obsession with derivatives and index futures.’

‘Which you do?’

‘I seem to have a knack for making money out of them.’

And didn’t that neatly avoid the question? She nodded in what she hoped was a knowledgeable fashion. ‘I should imagine there are quite a few high net worth individuals in Monte Carlo.’

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You know about high net worth individuals?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised. I know a little about lots of things.’

‘Like what?’ He linked his hands together and leaned forward.

‘Like how City boys like you can spend ten thousand pounds on a gold leaf cocktail,’ she said, giving him a small smile to show she was half joking.

Luke frowned. ‘A few do. I don’t. And nor do any of my staff. They don’t have time. Plus, they know they’d be fired if they did.’

She shuddered. Ruthless as well as gorgeous. A dangerously attractive combination.

He shot her a sudden killer smile that had her blood racing round her body. ‘Besides, I prefer to spend my money on rescuing damsels.’

‘You mean there are others?’ she said, trying not to sound too curious.

‘Not at the moment. It’s very distressing.’

Emily let out a burst of laughter.

‘What about you? What do you do?’

‘A bit of this, a bit of that.’ Emily smiled at the quizzical look on his face. ‘I’m a professional temp, currently resting.’ She waited. This was the moment when people usually scoffed at her, or told her what an idiot she was for not pursuing a proper career.

Luke leaned back. ‘What made you choose to be a temp?’

Emily was taken aback. He sounded genuinely interested. Most people assumed that she was temping until she could find a proper job. Whereas she’d made a deliberate decision to make it a career. ‘I like the flexibility. Days off when I want. It’s perfect. It gives me time to do the things I love doing.’

He was looking at her as though she was speaking in a foreign language. ‘Such as?’

‘Spending time with my sister and her twins. Seeing friends, potting, that kind of thing.’

‘Potting?’

‘Potting. Making pots.’

‘Are you any good?’

‘No idea. But I don’t have to be. It’s a hobby. I do it for fun.’ That wasn’t strictly true. She’d love to make a living out of it, but she suspected she wasn’t much good. ‘Temping is really just a way of paying the bills. Funnily enough, I once worked at a fund manager’s.’

‘Oh? Which one?’

‘JT Investments. Do you know it?’

Luke nodded. ‘I know the CEO.’

‘Jack Taylor? I never met him, but the work was interesting. Challenging.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s what I mean. I like the variety of the work. Meeting new people, discovering new gossip without any need to get involved in office politics. And then, just when you start thinking it’s getting a tad monotonous—which, let’s face it, most jobs are—you get to leave and try something else. It’s great.’ She grinned at him. He still wasn’t getting it, but that was all right, most people didn’t. She leaned forward. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to give me a lecture on the folly of my decision? About how unstable temping is, and how my brain must be atrophying, and that at my age I really should be sprinting up a career ladder?’

‘Why would I do that? You clearly enjoy what you do.’ He frowned slightly at this, as if it was an unfamiliar concept to him. ‘And it’s none of my business.’

Emily sniffed. ‘That doesn’t stop most people.’

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I know...I’ve been on the receiving end of something similar.’

‘Really?’

Something in his voice—bitterness, weariness, maybe—had her senses leaping to attention. ‘What would people lecture you about, I wonder?’ she said.

In the long silent seconds while he regarded her, Emily’s heart began to beat faster.

‘Apparently I need more fun in my life,’ he said eventually, his tone leaving her in no doubt about what he thought of that piece of advice. ‘Apparently I work too hard.’

‘Do you?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Why?’ she asked, suddenly feeling that she was entering into choppy water.

‘Habit,’ he said flatly.

‘What do you do to relax?’

‘Relax?’ His brows snapped together.

‘Yes, you know. Relax. Chill out, unwind.’

‘I don’t have time to relax.’

Okaaayyy. ‘What about the fun part?’

His eyes glittered. ‘If I needed fun in my life,’ he said, his voice rumbling over her, ‘I’d be perfectly capable of finding it.’

The way he was looking at her, his gaze scorching over her face before resting on her mouth, set her blood to boiling. His eyes had turned the colour of the sky at midnight and his expression shifted, darkened, intensified—as if there was only one thing on his mind. Then it vanished and his face was impassive once again.

But Emily had caught it. She hadn’t been mistaken about what exactly it was that had been disturbing him earlier.

For that brief moment Luke had considered finding fun with her.

Her heart pounded and her ears popped. The problem was, she mused, as the pilot’s voice advised them they were starting their descent, that once they’d landed and gone their separate ways there wasn’t anything that could be done about it.

He should have left her at the bloody airport, thought Luke grimly, handing the porter a crisp note and watching him disappear with Emily’s suitcase.

That would have been the sensible, logical, rational thing to do. It was a shame, then, that sense, logic and reason had taken a hike hours ago.

‘Are you sure this is the right place?’ Emily was squinting up at the hotel and rocking on her heels.

‘Yes,’ he said curtly. Her sister had booked her into the one of the oldest, most exclusive hotels on the coast.

‘But look at the place,’ she wailed. ‘And look at me.’

Against his better judgement, he did as she suggested. He ran his gaze over her profile. Wavy fair hair was held back in a wide scarf, the ends of which dangled down her back. She was wearing a close fitting pink T-shirt and well-worn jeans that hugged the curve of her bottom. He felt a savage kick of desire in the pit of his stomach as he followed the long line of her legs to where fuchsia-painted toenails were peeping out of some sort of high-heeled shoe.

‘They’ll never let me in in jeans—and non-designer ones at that.’

‘You have a room booked for two nights at five hundred euros a night,’ Luke said tersely. ‘They’re not going to question what you’re wearing.’

Emily swivelled to face him, her jaw dropping. ‘Five hundred euros? A night?’

‘A night,’ he confirmed, grabbing her elbow and leading her into the lobby. ‘You’d better make the most of it.’

‘I shall,’ she said, flashing him a wicked smile. The sooner he got out of here the better. ‘I’ll raid the mini bar and download dozens of saucy films, and then Anna will rue the day she decided to auction me off to the highest bidder.’

Saucy films? Luke’s jaw clenched. His fingers tightened and he quickened his pace. He needed to leave. Now. Before he succumbed to the demands his body had been making since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

He propelled her across the lobby, deposited her at the reception desk, and took a step back. For a second he just stared at her, his mind suddenly blank. Then he noticed that her mouth, that highly distracting mouth, was moving. He forced his attention to what she was saying.

‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said, smiling faintly.

‘You’re welcome. It was on my way anyway. Have a good weekend.’

A shadow flickered across her face, clouding her eyes. ‘I’ll try. You too.’

Luke gave her a brief nod, turned on his heel and strode towards the door. With every step he felt the return of his focus. Hell, not just his focus. His sanity. Ever since he’d clicked on that damn link that Jack had sent him and seen her photo he’d been steadily losing it. Lusting over her picture as if he was a hormonal adolescent instead of the cool, disciplined, rock-steady man he had made himself become. For a man who liked to be in control, the last few hours had been a harrowing experience.

‘Luke?’

Her voice reached him when he was halfway to the door. You didn’t hear that, he muttered to himself. Don’t stop. Nearly there.

‘Luke?’

This time her voice was closer and huskier, wrapping round the sound of his name like velvet, and it slammed him to a halt. He turned to find Emily standing a foot away from him, looking at him warily. ‘Yes?’

‘Would you come to this wedding with me?’

When Luke went rigid, and paled beneath his tan, Emily instantly regretted the impulse that had made her run after him. She shouldn’t have asked. She knew that. It was just that as he’d walked away she’d had the oddest feeling that she’d never see him again. That somehow he’d arrange not to have to accompany her back to London on Sunday. And that she’d have to endure the torture of Tom’s wedding with nothing whatsoever to look forward to.

But maybe he had plans for the weekend. She’d seen how busy he was from the endless string of phone calls that he’d juggled during the journey from the airport to the hotel. He must have piles of work to do. Why on earth would he want to waste his valuable time on her?

No. That was Luke’s answer to her question. He had a stack of analyst reports and stockmarket data to get through before the weekend was over. Even if he hadn’t had that excuse, he hadn’t been to a wedding or inside a church in years, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. So if that was what she’d been planning all along, she’d got landed with the wrong man.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her, standing there waiting for his answer, fiddling with her hair, her green eyes shining steadily at him. She was nibbling on her lower lip again. An arrow of heat fired through him, tightening and stiffening his body, just as it had done on the plane. He fought back a surge of desire. Emily was resourceful and confident. She’d manage fine on her own.

At the precise moment when Luke opened his mouth to tell her that he had other plans Emily jammed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The movement thrust her breasts forward and he lost what little sense he’d had left.

‘Forget it. I—’ she began.

‘Sure—why not?’ He cut her off, his voice thick and distant. His head throbbed with a sudden desperate urge to haul her up against him and see if she was as soft and yielding as she looked.

‘Really?’ Emily let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed, while Luke shoved a hand through his hair, nodded, and called himself all kinds of bloody idiot.

‘Great,’ she said, beaming at him. ‘It might even be fun. It’s at six tomorrow evening, at a château near Valensole. There’s a reception and a dinner afterwards.’

Luke was looking shell-shocked. Emily was just beginning to wonder whether he’d heard her when he said, ‘I’ll pick you up at three.’

She looked up at him in surprise. ‘Is it that far?’

‘A couple of hours.’

Emily frowned. That changed things. She couldn’t expect him to give up such a large chunk of his weekend. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ she asked.

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I may even be able to dig out a morning suit.’

Emily smiled, feeling happier and more settled than she had in hours. ‘Thank you, Luke.’

And then, because she really was grateful, and because it seemed the natural thing to do, she reached up and planted a light kiss at the corner of his mouth.

But there was nothing natural about her reaction. The moment her mouth grazed his skin the world wobbled. Her lips tingled and his smell—clean, masculine and untainted by after-shave—swirled into her head. Sensation washed over her. Emily swayed and then jerked back, unable to stifle a tiny gasp of shock.

She saw her own surprise and confusion and something else reflected in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She was too close. The heat radiating off his body was scorching her. She stumbled back, but his hands shot out, and before she’d realised what was happening he was pulling her back against him, wrapping his arms around her and crashing his mouth down on hers.

He took advantage of her parted lips instantly, his tongue darting into her mouth and exploring her with a thoroughness that turned her bones to water. His fingers tangled in her hair, angling her head, and he deepened the kiss. Emily’s heart banged around her chest and her blood raced around her body like a stream of fire.

Her own hands found their way to his back and her fingers bunched the fabric of his jacket, itching to delve underneath and touch his skin everywhere. The hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach. His hand curved round to brush the side of her breast and she moaned into his mouth.

She froze. The sound of her own desperate longing brought her thundering back to reality. What on earth were they doing? Locked together, kissing frantically, about to rip each other’s clothes off. In the lobby of a five-star hotel.

An identical thought had obviously occurred to Luke at exactly the same time. His hands stilled and he pulled back, staring down at her, his eyes so dark they were almost black, his breathing ragged as he struggled to get his body back under control.

‘Oh, dear,’ he said huskily, letting her go, turning on his heel and striding out of the hotel.

‘That’s all he said? “Oh, dear”?’

‘Yes, for the tenth time, that’s all he said.’ Emily closed her eyes and flopped back on the bed, seriously doubting the wisdom of calling her sister in the hope that she’d be able to shed some light on the situation.

‘How did he say it?’

An image of Luke’s face just before he marched off floated into her head. ‘Kind of neutral. Expressionless. Blank. What do you think he meant?’

‘Who knows? It could be anything from That was fantastic and I’m in danger of falling head over heels in love with this woman—’

Emily’s heart lurched for a second. ‘Rather unlikely, don’t you think?’

‘—to God, I pity you. Your kissing technique is diabolical.’

Emily groaned and clapped a hand over her eyes. As far as she could remember—and she’d relived the experience a hundred times in the past hour or so—his technique had been perfect. Whether hers had been any good was anyone’s guess. She’d lost her mind and any finesse the moment their mouths had met. ‘I’m rather hoping it was What the hell are we thinking of, two grown adults kissing like frenzied teenagers in a hotel lobby in full view of a dozen people?’

‘Perhaps we’ll never know. How is the hotel, by the way?’

Emily sat up and surveyed her room. ‘Amazing. Forget a cat, you could swing a pride of lions in here. Thank you for booking it.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Guess what’s on the balcony.’

‘Hmm, let me think. A table? Chairs? A couple of wilting pot plants?’

‘A hot tub.’

‘Big enough for two?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Her imagination had come up with some pretty racy scenarios involving her and Luke, with little clothing and lots of bubbles. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the memory of Luke’s mouth moving over hers, warm and firm, his taste, his smell, the feel of his body crushing hers...

‘Remember that at the wedding. You’re clearly on a roll. You might get lucky.’

‘What wedding?’ asked Emily dreamily.

‘Er, tomorrow?’ Anna’s tone sharpened. ‘Don’t even think about not going. If you do, I’ll cancel my credit card and you’ll be landed with the hotel bill.’

Emily sat up. ‘Oh, I’m going. I’m definitely going. Luke’s coming with me.’

She had to hold her mobile away from her ear as her sister let out a very unlike-Anna squeal.

She frowned. ‘At least that was the plan. After the “Oh, dear” episode I’m not sure whether he’ll turn up.’

‘Of course he will. He’s a man of his word.’

‘How on earth do you figure that?’

‘He turned up to take you to France, didn’t he? He’ll be there tomorrow. And when he is, you can ask him what he meant.’

But did she want to know? That was the question that had been swirling around Emily’s head for the past twenty-four hours. Their kiss had replayed in her mind all night. Her response to Luke was overwhelming. How could she react like this to a man she’d only just met and barely knew? For the first time in her life she was at the mercy of an extraordinary attraction that was as unsettling as it was exciting. This, plus the steamy thoughts generated by the discovery of a complimentary box of condoms in a bathroom cupboard, had made her toss and turn until she’d finally given up and gone to pound her restlessness out in the pool.

At least the hotel beautician had managed to cover up the worst of the grey circles under her eyes, and the hairdresser had sorted her hair out so that her feather fascinator looked as though it did actually belong where it was.

Her sister had packed well, thought Emily, slipping into the dress she’d worn to Anna and David’s wedding. A dress which had earned compliments from everyone except Tom. She should have realised something wasn’t quite right between the two of them way back then.

She thrust her feet into gold strappy sandals and glanced at her watch. Quarter to three. Her hands were trembling as they fumbled with the straps. The butterflies in her stomach were clamouring to escape. She wasn’t sure quite what her nerves were for. The wedding, or coming face to face with Luke? Both probably.

After the way he’d walked out yesterday evening she wouldn’t be at all surprised if he didn’t show up this afternoon, despite Anna’s assurances. Anna hadn’t seen the stunned expression on his face when he’d agreed to go with her, as if he’d been as startled by his answer as she was. Nor had she seen his face darken in a way that suggested he’d regretted his decision the moment he’d made it. So if he was waiting for her downstairs, what mood would he be in?

Oh, well, thought Emily, there was only one way to find out. She picked up her clutch bag, pulled her shoulders back and glanced at herself in the mirror. If there was one thing she was certain of, she told herself, taking a series of deep, steadying breaths and checking her teeth for lipstick, the next few hours were going to be anything but boring.




CHAPTER THREE


FUN. Was that what this was supposed to be? Luke asked himself grimly, pushing through the hotel’s revolving door and stalking across the gleaming marble floor. Fun was supposed to be light, nothing more than a passing diversion. It was not supposed to knock him for six, and it was not supposed to derail his focus to such an extent that his clients had asked him if he was all right in the middle of the meeting.

Luke scowled as he scanned the lobby in case Emily was early, and then flung himself onto the sofa, picked up the first magazine his fingers found and flicked to an article on interest rate forecasts in south-east Asia.

He didn’t need to look up to know that Emily had walked into the lobby. He hadn’t heard the lift ping, he hadn’t heard the swish of a door drawing back, yet he knew. By the way the tiny hairs at the back of his neck leapt up. The words blurred on the page. The tapping of her heels on the marble echoed louder and louder as they came towards him. Deliberately taking his time, Luke closed the magazine, looked up, and his mouth went dry.

She was standing on the very spot where they’d kissed yesterday, wearing some kind of green wraparound dress the exact colour of her eyes. It fell to her knees and clung just about everywhere. His gaze roamed up, taking in the elegant sweep of hair that was caught up with an arrangement of feathers and tumbled in glossy waves over her shoulders, and then he continued his appraisal down over her curves to the very high sandals that made her long legs even longer.

Running a finger around the inside of the collar of a shirt that was suddenly choking him, Luke got to his feet. Her scent threaded towards him, and he was gripped by a lust so strong that he had to jam his hands in his pockets to stop himself from throwing her over his shoulder, bundling her back into that lift and locking them both in her room for the rest of the weekend.

‘You look beautiful,’ he managed hoarsely, giving her a tense smile and then clearing his throat.

Emily returned his smile with a sunnier one of her own and he was struck by a deep sense of foreboding. Telling him to get out of here now. Head straight back to Monte Carlo as fast as Pierre could get him there.

‘Thank you,’ said Emily, giddy with relief that he’d turned up to meet her and buzzing at his compliment. ‘So do you.’

Luke Harrison dressed for a wedding was devastating. The fact that he looked tired and drawn did nothing to detract from his dark good looks, and did nothing to diminish the effect he was having on her pulse.

But, although he was staring at her as if he wanted to devour her, he didn’t offer her a kiss on the cheek and she suddenly felt uncharacteristically awkward. He had an edge about him today that made her feel as if she could be walking on eggshells, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask him what the ‘Oh dear’ had meant. If she did, it would stir up memories of that kiss, and Luke didn’t look as if he was in the mood to discuss it. Much better to pretend it had never happened.

‘Would you like a drink before we go?’

God, no, thought Emily. Who knew how long it would be before she stepped too heavily on those eggshells? Two hours in a confined space with him would be bad enough as it was. Why prolong the agony? ‘Would you mind if we just went straight there?’

‘Not at all.’ Luke put a hand on her elbow to lead her out to his car. His chauffeur-driven car, if the well-built man dressed in a dark uniform and cap and standing by the rear door was anything to go by. ‘Give the address to Pierre and he’ll put it into the navigation system.’

Emily fished the invitation out of her bag and presented it to Pierre with a flourish. ‘Voilà,’ she said, smiling up at the driver, who took it with an inclination of his head and then held the door open for her. Emily swung into the car as if she never travelled any other way, while Luke stalked round to the other side and folded himself onto the back seat beside her.

The Provence countryside had been whizzing by for about an hour before Emily had finally had enough of the crackling silence. Wasn’t she the one who was supposed to be on edge and tense? Her ex-fiancé was, after all, within a hair’s breadth of marrying another woman. To add insult to injury, she was bound to bump into people who’d taken his side after the split and whom she hadn’t seen or spoken to since. Yes, she was the one who should be trembling in trepidation. But, bizarrely, she felt fine. Amazingly calm and collected and ready to face whatever the afternoon held in store for her.

Luke, however, who should be relaxed and looking forward to spending the afternoon drinking champagne at someone else’s expense, was radiating unease and sitting unnaturally still. He was staring into the distance, probably totally unaware of the quaint towns and swathes of fields zipping past.

What on earth was the matter with him? Yesterday, for the most part, he’d been charming. Today he was decidedly unsociable and it was unsettling her. To hell with the eggshells. This silence was driving her nuts and the thought of another minute of it was unbearable.

Emily swivelled round and studied his profile. ‘How were your meetings?’

Luke barely blinked before replying. ‘Productive.’

Hmm, not a promising start. She tried a different topic. ‘Where do you stay when you’re here?’

‘I have offices in Monaco.’

‘Handy. But that’s not what I asked.’

‘One of the rooms has been converted into a bedroom. It has an en-suite bathroom and a dressing room.’

‘You sleep in your office?’ Emily couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

‘It makes for an easy commute,’ said Luke, twisting round and shooting her a humourless smile.

‘You have a chauffeur. Commuting should be a cinch.’

‘He’s on loan for this evening. I have a feeling I’m going to need a drink.’ His face hardened and his jaw set as if in preparation for something unpleasant.

She could sympathise. ‘I know what you mean.’

‘I doubt it,’ he said harshly.

Emily frowned. ‘Don’t you like weddings?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Not even the church part?’

‘Especially not the church part,’ he said, with a vehemence that made Emily flinch.

‘Why not?’

‘I just don’t.’

Which was one way of saying mind your own business, she supposed. ‘When was the last time you were in a church?’

‘Three years ago.’

‘That’s a long time.’

‘Too long.’ His voice was bleak, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know any more. Invisible barriers were springing up all around him, warning her to back off, not to pry any further.

So she sat back and contemplated what might cause such a strong dislike of churches and weddings. According to one of her girlfriends, the mere mention of either had a tendency to cause most men to break into a sweat. It certainly had with Tom, even after he’d proposed. Although he’d managed to get over that particular fear with unflattering speed.

Perhaps Luke Harrison was a commitment phobe. That might explain why he was still single when he was handsome, wealthy and intelligent.

‘How on earth did you slip through the net?’ she murmured, and then gasped in horror when she realised she’d said the words aloud.

‘What net?’

There was no way she could pretend she didn’t understand what he was talking about. Not when his eyes had narrowed and were trained on her face.

Emily gulped nervously. ‘The marriage net. I’d have thought someone would have snapped you up years ago.’ Why, oh, why hadn’t she kept quiet? Eggshells were beginning to shatter all over the place.

A muscle started ticking in his jaw. ‘Marriage isn’t for me,’ he bit out.

Something about his stillness, the flash of desolation in his eyes, made Emily yearn to find out why he was so against marriage. But she’d already gone way too far.

Desperately seeking to lighten the atmosphere, she gave him what she hoped was a conspiratorial smile. ‘I agree. Commitment, responsibility, a relationship...’ She shuddered. ‘I can’t think of anything worse.’

After several minutes of more thundering silence Luke rubbed a hand over his face, and when he looked at her again something seemed to have shifted inside him. The tension ebbed from his frame and his eyes cleared. ‘Talking of commitment, you’d better fill me in on this wedding we’re going to.’

Emily swallowed and looked out of the window. ‘I know the groom. Tom’s a—er...a friend of mine.’ Quite why she was reluctant to reveal the nature of their relationship to Luke was a mystery. He’d find out soon enough. With any luck after she’d had a glass or two of champagne.

‘Why didn’t you want to go?’

‘Oh, well, I—er—haven’t seen him for a while. There didn’t seem much point.’

‘Why was Anna so keen for you to come?’

Emily stifled a sigh of exasperation. Couldn’t he just let it go? ‘She thinks I need to get out more,’ she said firmly. And that was as much as she was willing to say on the matter.

Luke acknowledged her determination to change the subject with a tiny nod. ‘Who’s he marrying?’

‘A woman called Marianne du Champs,’ she replied, adding ‘perceptive’ to the long list of his attributes. ‘I believe she may be a countess.’

She leaned towards the window as Pierre pulled the car up opposite a huge looming church. Everywhere she looked guests were milling around, the women dressed up to the nines in the latest designer outfits, the men elegant in traditional wedding attire.

‘Ah, look,’ said Emily, ‘a nice, small, intimate wedding.’

She spied two of Tom’s friends, who up until a year ago had been her friends too. A tremor shook through her and her confidence wobbled. She brushed her palms against her dress and fought back a sudden attack of nerves. Perhaps this was going to be more gruelling than she’d imagined.

Luke climbed out of the car, walked round the bonnet and opened the door for her. Emily swung her knees round, put her hand in his, and in one fluid movement she was on her feet.

‘That was beautifully done,’ he said, offering her his arm.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, taking it. ‘If you’re trying to boost my confidence, you’re doing a good job.’

‘Does your confidence need boosting?’

‘Ask me in an hour.’

Some people would gossip about her presence at the wedding of her ex-fiancé, and the grapevine would no doubt tremble violently. But she’d just stepped out of a chauffeur-driven car and was now on the arm of the sexiest, best-looking man on the face of the earth. As they crossed the road, Emily took a deep breath and rallied her strength.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Luke.

‘Absolutely fine,’ she said firmly. ‘You?’

‘Absolutely fine.’ But he wasn’t. The tension was back and he was staring up at the church, his eyes icy blue and his face frozen.

‘If it helps,’ she murmured, ‘there should be plenty of extraordinary headwear and stained glass to focus on.’

A glimmer of a smile hovered over his mouth for a second before his lips tightened. ‘Do you want to wait out here or shall we go in?’

Emily glanced round and saw that they were attracting considerable attention. Or rather Luke was. But he seemed unaware of the appreciative looks being shot in his direction. She scanned the crowd to see if she could spot anyone she could say hello to, but there were no friendly faces among the guests. She doubted there’d be many inside either, but there was no going back now. ‘Let’s go in.’

He walked up the steps stiffly, and she had the impression that it was only sheer will-power that was moving him forwards and up and through the huge oak doors. As she followed him inside and her vision adjusted to the gloom she noticed that he’d gone alarmingly pale. His fingers tightened around hers and she realised that this wedding wasn’t only going to be an ordeal for her.

But what could be the reason for Luke’s unease? she wondered, taking one of the orders of service that were being held out by an usher. Was a fear of weddings a medical condition? Matrimoniphobia, perhaps? He didn’t strike her as the sort of man who would tolerate a fear, yet he was clutching her hand as if his life depended on it.

He let her go so she could shuffle along an empty pew. Had he been dropped in the font as a baby? Had he too once been to the wedding of someone he’d cared about? A funeral, perhaps? The possibilities were endless, but it was hardly the sort of thing she could ask.

‘I was right,’ said Emily, glancing around before putting her handbag on the floor.

‘About what?’ muttered Luke.

‘Hats and glass.’ She tried to settle herself on the uncomfortable pew.

When Luke didn’t answer she stole a quick peek at him. He was studying the church’s architecture with an almost fierce intensity, but at least some colour had returned to his face. It was as if he’d gone into some sort of zone, she thought, running her fingers over the engraved front of the order of service. She was willing to bet that he was totally unaware of her presence. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.

‘Emily?’ A voice behind her and a tap on her shoulder made her jump. She twisted round and found herself face to face with one of the few people who had stayed in touch when she and Tom split up.

‘Felicity, how lovely to see you,’ she said.

‘Likewise. How are you? It’s been ages.’

‘Too long.’

‘Isn’t this fantastic?’ Felicity waved a hand around to indicate the magnificence of the church. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been to a wedding like it. I can’t wait for the reception. Marianne’s lovely, and doesn’t Tom look great?’ There was an awkward pause as Felicity’s expression of delight turned to one of horror. She clapped both hands to her face. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. Sometimes I only open my mouth to change feet.’

‘Sorry about what?’

Felicity looked bewildered for a second. ‘Well, you know. Banging on about the wedding. When Tom is marrying Marianne.’

Emily glanced at Luke, but he didn’t appear to be listening. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she assured Felicity, who was staring at her with concern.

‘Are you all right with it?’

‘Heavens, yes.’ She could feel herself going red. She’d been so wrapped up in what was going on with Luke that she had barely given Tom a second’s thought. ‘I’m happy for him. Truly,’ she added at the sceptical look that crossed Felicity’s face.

‘I can well believe that,’ she said, leaning forward. She nodded in Luke’s direction and asked, ‘Who’s your friend?’

Emily caught the appreciative note in her voice and felt a stab of irritation. Whatever Luke was going through, he didn’t need to be subjected to a barrage of questions by an over-flirtatious female.

A rustling behind them saved her from having to answer Felicity’s question. ‘Oh, look, I think the bride’s arrived,’ she said brightly, as the organ boomed the opening bars of the ‘Bridal Chorus’ and everyone stood and turned to watch the entrance of Marianne du Champs.

The organist then launched into the first hymn, and Emily took the opportunity to survey the congregation. As she’d suspected, she didn’t spy many allies among the glamorous throng. Mainly she encountered expressions of surprise. One or two glimmers of sympathy, which she could have done without. And there was enough eyeing up of the man beside her to have her inching towards him in a distinctly proprietorial fashion.

She was just debating whether or not it would be a bit much to thread her arm through his when Tom’s voice poured through the speakers and jerked her head back. Had they got to that part already?

For the first time since the ceremony had begun, and with a faint sense of shame, she turned her attention to what was happening in front of her. Her gaze rested on the man with whom at one point she’d been planning to spend her future. Tall, blond, good-looking and familiar, he was smiling down at the woman in white—the woman who at one time could have been her.

She waited for her heart to lurch, for a stab of pain, perhaps, or regret, but as she watched and heard him say his vows all she could think of was Luke and that kiss.

Which wasn’t right, surely? Even if she was over Tom, shouldn’t she be experiencing some sort of inner turmoil at seeing him standing up there at the altar about to marry another woman, instead of lusting after another man? She frowned. Perhaps her mind had sent her into denial without her knowledge.

Emily emptied her head of all thoughts and forced herself to focus on Tom. He was looking proud, happy and relaxed. Unlike Luke. Oh, no. How could she examine her emotions for turmoil if Luke clouded the issue? She blinked and pushed him to one side.

Now, where was she? Oh, yes. Tom. He was sliding a ring onto Marianne’s finger and staring down at her with an awed expression on his face. Hang on, she thought with a frown. Did her heart just ping? And was that another one? Yes, it was definitely pinging. Thank God for that. Two tugs on her heartstrings was perfect. Just enough to reassure herself that she cared, not enough to cause her pain. What a relief. Now she could dally with Luke without any nasty insecurities popping up at inconvenient times.

And she did want to dally with him. Very much. She looked up at him. He was glowering at a window and a muscle was ticking in his jaw. Desire mingled with curiosity. Whatever the reason for Luke’s phobia of churches, it clearly went a great deal deeper than a simple fear of commitment.

Luke barely heard the music and words echoing through the church, and he wasn’t concentrating on the stained glass. No. He was far too busy gritting his teeth and fighting for control of his mind.

It had been three years since Grace’s funeral. Three years since he’d last stepped inside a church. Of all the things that should be going through his head, skin-prickling awareness of the woman beside him was not one of them.

Yet every time they stood or sat a fresh wave of her intoxicating scent hit his perplexed brain. The memory of her in his arms, her mouth and body moving against his, rolled back into his head and he had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching for her.

Luke sat down and studied the painting above the altar. Exhaustion. That was it. That was why his mind hadn’t been working properly in the meeting yesterday and wasn’t working properly now. That was why his attraction to Emily was hitting him quite so hard. He should take a break—ease up on his insane workload before he burned out. And maybe he should indulge in the ‘fun’ that Jack kept banging on about.

Luke heard the rustle of people standing and automatically got to his feet. He had the feeling Emily could be a lot of fun. Emily was warm and vibrant and attracted to him. Her response to his kiss had been hotter than he could have imagined.

Her arm brushed against his, making him jump as if he’d been poked with a cattle prod. That was it. He’d had enough of only half existing. It was about time he had some fun. He tore his gaze from the cherub he’d been focusing on and turned his head to look down at her. At the same time she looked up. Their gazes collided, and the leap of desire he saw in Emily’s eyes decimated any remnant of doubt he might have had.

Emily nearly collapsed back down on the pew from the scorching heat of Luke’s gaze, but she couldn’t drag her eyes away. Her heart raced. If she combusted on the spot would it be hailed as a miracle? Her head went fuzzy. A flash of white cut across her vision. Didn’t some people see a bright light before passing out? She had to get out of there before she found out.

How much longer would this blasted service go on for? Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, she wrenched her eyes away from Luke’s. And blinked in astonishment. Everyone was moving. The ceremony was over? Already? That look must have frozen them in time. And that flash of white must have been the new Mrs Thomas Green gliding back down the aisle. Nice to know Luke didn’t, after all, have the power to send her into a swoon.

But the dramatic change in his demeanour was odd. From tense and edgy to carnal and predatory. It wasn’t normal. Before she could analyse this any further, Luke took her arm, clamped her against him, and starting pushing them through the crush of people in the aisle.

‘Would you like to go in the car, or shall we walk?’ he asked when they finally managed to get out of the church.

‘Let’s walk,’ she replied. ‘It’s not far, and I love the smell of Provence in summer.’

Luke’s gaze slid down her body. ‘Will you be able to walk in those shoes?’

‘Nope. But I won’t have to.’ She pulled a pair of sparkly flats out of her bag.

‘Practical,’ said Luke, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose.

‘Not a fan of blisters,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘Can I borrow you?’

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his arm and quickly switched shoes. When she was back on her feet, sandals dangling from one hand, there was no reason for her other hand to still be on his arm. But for some strange reason she was reluctant to let him go. He was so warm and hard under her fingers, and she had to force herself to break the contact before her hand started doing something inappropriate—like creeping up his arm to his shoulder, to see if his muscles were as defined as she remembered.

Reluctantly she dropped her hand and lifted her face to smile her thanks. Without the added height of her heels, Luke towered over her. Now that she thought about it, yesterday she’d been wearing three-inch wedges and earlier today the sandals. She hadn’t realised quite how tall and broad he really was. It made her feel dainty and feminine—which, at a generously proportioned five foot seven, didn’t happen often.

‘Let me take your shoes,’ he offered.

She was hit by an image of those big hands holding her delicate shoes, and maybe offering to put them back on when they arrived at the château, his fingers circling her ankle, trailing up over her calf...She swallowed and blinked rapidly. ‘They wouldn’t suit you.’

A hint of a smile curved his mouth and he took her shoes gently from her. ‘Ready?’

‘Lead on.’

She brushed down her skirt and checked herself for dust, and then looked up to find him watching her, his expression dark and serious, the sunglasses lending him a sinister air. ‘What?’ she asked, her heart thumping. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Very wrong.’ His voice had softened, deepened, and it slithered over her like silk.

‘Do I have lavender in my hair?’ Her hands flew up to check. ‘Fluff on my dress?’

He gave his head a quick shake, hooked a finger under the bridge of his sunglasses to slide them off and took a slow step towards her.

Emily’s mouth dried at the look in his eye.

‘It’s occurred to me that I’ve been somewhat remiss,’ he said.

‘You have?’ she said, her voice suddenly hoarse.

‘Mmm-hmm. I forgot to kiss you hello earlier. That wasn’t very gallant.’

‘It wasn’t,’ she agreed breathlessly, backing up against the tree and lifting her chin.

‘But fortunately easily remedied.’ Luke placed his hands either side of her head and leisurely scanned her face, as if deciding where to begin.

Emily’s heart raced and she began to fizz with anticipation. His head came down, blotting out the sun. Her mouth tingled. But at the last minute he turned his head a fraction and his lips brushed her cheek. He stopped and drew back an inch, leaving her screaming inside with frustration.





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