Snowbound With His Forbidden Innocent / Maid For The Untamed Billionaire

Smoothing his hackles back down again, he continued his inspection. It was Stacey’s quiet confidence that impressed him the most, he decided. That and the glaringly obvious—that she was classy and stylish with a particular brand of humour that appealed to him.

Avoiding close contact with Stacey was a must, he accepted with a grim twist to his mouth. His party in the mountains was a no-go if he wanted to keep things platonic between them. He was a man, not a saint.

A fact that was proved the very next moment when he noticed an elderly ambassador place his wizened paw on Stacey’s back. The urge to knock him away was overwhelming, which was ridiculous. He was more in control than that, surely?

Apparently not, he accepted as he strode across the ballroom? She was his. To protect, he amended swiftly, as he would protect any woman in the same situation.

By the time he reached Stacey, she had skilfully evaded the aging satyr and moved on, but no sooner had she extricated herself from one difficult situation than she was confronted by another in the form of a notoriously difficult film star. The prima donna had already laid waste to several junior members of the Party Planners team by the time Stacey reached the tense group. With a quick kind word to her co-workers, she took over, making it clear that anything the woman wanted would be provided. The diva was already seated in the prized central spot where everyone could see and admire her, but there appeared to be something on the table that displeased her. Curious as to what this might be, he drew closer.

‘Remove that disgusting greenery,’ the woman instructed. ‘My people should have informed you that I’m allergic to foliage, and only white roses are acceptable on my table.’

Where exactly would she get white roses at this late stage? he wondered as Stacey soothed the woman, while discreetly giving instructions to a member of her team. Clearly determined to keep everything under control and to protect his other guests, she showed a steely front as she moved quickly into action.

‘Nothing is too much trouble for a VIP everyone is honoured to welcome,’ she assured the star. ‘I will personally ensure that this unfortunate error is put right immediately. In the meantime,’ she added, calling a waiter, ‘a magnum of vintage champagne for our guest. And perhaps you would like to meet Prince Albert of Villebourg sur Mer?’ she suggested to the now somewhat mollified celebrity.

As the diva’s eyes gleamed, he thought, Bravo, Stacey. And bravo a second time, he concluded wryly as an assistant hurried into the ballroom with a florist in tow. Stacey had not only arranged an exclusive photo shoot with the prince for her difficult guest, but had arranged for the orchestra to play the theme tune from the diva’s latest film, and while this was happening the original centrepiece was being replaced by one composed entirely of white roses.

A triumph, Señorita Winner! He was pleased for her. But—was he imagining it or had Stacey just stared at him with a ‘Now what have you got to say for yourself?’ smile? Whatever he thought he knew about Stacey, he realised he had a lot to learn, and she had made him impatient to fill in the gaps.

There would always be hitches, Stacey accepted as she continued with her duties. Solving those hitches was half the fun of the job. It pleased her to find answers, and to make people happy. And not just because Señor Iron Britches was in the room, though Luc rocked her world and made her body yearn each time their stares clashed. Formal wear suited him. Emphasising his height and the width of his shoulders, it gilded the darkly glittering glamour he was famous for. Though Luc looked just as good in a pair of banged-up jeans…or those shots of him in polo magazines wearing tight-fitting breeches… Better not think about tight-fitting breeches, or she wouldn’t get any work done. She had better things to do than admire a client’s butt.

In her defence, not every client had a butt like Lucas Da Silva.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE WASN’T GETTING away from him this time. He stepped in front of Stacey the first time their paths crossed. ‘Señorita Winner, I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.’

She looked at him wide-eyed. ‘Why would I do that?’

Her manner was as direct as ever, and held nothing more than professional interest. Opening her arms wide, she explained, ‘Forgive me. We’ve been very busy tonight, but I hope you’re pleased with what we’ve achieved so far?’

‘I am pleased,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve dealt with some difficult guests, defusing situations that could have disrupted other people’s enjoyment of the evening.’

Stacey shrugged. ‘I want everyone to enjoy themselves whoever they are. We all have different expectations.’

‘Indeed,’ he agreed, staring deep into her eyes.

She searched his as if expecting to find mockery there, and, finding none, she smiled. ‘Anyway, thank you for the compliment. I’ll accept it on behalf of the team. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have one more thing to check before the banquet begins.’

‘Which is?’ he queried.

‘I want to make sure that no one else has swapped around their place card to sit closer to you.’

He laughed. ‘Am I so much in demand?’

‘You know you are,’ she said with one of her classic withering looks.

‘But not with you, I take it?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.

‘Forget it.’ He made her a mock bow. ‘And thank you for protecting me.’

‘My pleasure,’ she assured him, on the point of hurrying away.

‘So, where am I sitting?’ he asked to keep her close a little longer.

‘Next to me.’ She held his surprised stare in an amused look of her own. ‘I thought you’d like that. You don’t have a companion tonight, and I’ve seated the princess on your other side. I’ll be on hand to run errands.’

‘You? Run errands?’ he queried suspiciously.

‘Yes. Like a PA, or an assistant,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘And you don’t mind that?’

‘Why should I? I’m here to work. If you’d rather I sat somewhere else—’

‘No,’ he said so fast he startled both of them. ‘I’m happy with the arrangements as they are.’

‘Then…’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’

‘Of course,’ he said with a slight dip of his head. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’

She didn’t see Lucas again until everyone was seated for the banquet and she finally took her place beside him. ‘I was only joking about sitting down,’ she explained as a waiter settled a napkin on her lap with a flourish. ‘I wasn’t sure if you had someone in mind to take this place, and now I don’t want to leave an empty seat beside you.’

‘That wouldn’t look good,’ Luc agreed. ‘Is that the only reason you came to sit next to me?’ He gave her a long, sideways look.

‘I can’t think of any other reason,’ she said, though she knew she had to broach the subject of Lady Sarah’s leave of absence.

‘You impressed me tonight.’

‘You mean the team impressed you tonight,’ she prompted.

‘I mean you.’

Luc’s tone was soft and husky and he held her gaze several beats too long. She took advantage of the moment to ask him, ‘Does that mean the next contract’s secure?’

He frowned. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me?’

He’d already heard, she guessed. Lucas hadn’t climbed the greasy pole of success without doing his research. She guessed he’d brought up her CV to check on her rise through the company, and would know the latest news on Party Planners, including the fact that Lady Sarah was ill. If she knew anything at all about Lucas Da Silva, she was prepared to bet he was on the case. ‘Only that Lady Sarah is unwell and has asked me to run this function as well as the next for you. Do you have a problem with that?’

‘A problem?’ Luc dipped his chin to fix her with a questioning stare.

‘The team has turned itself inside out for you, and will happily do so again.’

‘And I will thank them,’ he said.

‘But?’

‘You want assurances here and now?’

Before she could answer, a member of her team made a discreet gesture that would take Stacey away from the table. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.’

‘You’re not even going to stay long enough to test the food?’

‘I trust your chefs.’

‘That’s very good of you,’ Lucas commented dryly.

‘I trust you,’ she said, touching his arm to drive the point home.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t done that. It was as if she’d plugged her hand into an electric socket. Her fingers were actually tingling. What she should be asking herself was whether Lucas would trust her enough to let her run an event as important to his company as the annual escape to the mountains. To make matters worse, it now seemed their old connection was as strong as ever, and she couldn’t resist teasing him before leaving the table. ‘Would you like me to deliver the happy news to one of the placecard-swapping starlets that a seat has become available next to their host?’

‘You’ll do no such—!’

Damn the woman! She’d gone! And with a smile on her mouth that promised she could still give as good as she got. This was like being back on the farm, where for every trick Stacey played on him he paid her back. His hackles were bristling. And his groin was in torment. He huffed a humourless laugh. Perhaps he deserved this, deserved the demon glint in her eyes, deserved Stacey.

He was still mulling this over when a young woman he vaguely recognised from the polo circuit approached the empty seat next to him, and, with what she must have imagined was a winsome expression on her avaricious face, commented, ‘You look lonely.’

‘Do I?’ Standing as good manners demanded, he waited until she’d sat down and he’d introduced her to a handsome young diplomat in the next chair. ‘I was distracted,’ he explained, swiping a hand across his forehead. ‘And unfortunately, I’ve just been called away. Please forgive me.’ He summoned a waiter. ‘Champagne for my guests.’

He left the table with relief. Whatever kind of spin he’d put on saving Stacey from the excesses playing on a loop in his mind had evaporated. They couldn’t leave things here. Confrontation between them was a given. Why try to avoid it? He knew when to pull back, didn’t he? Maybe not, he reflected as he crossed the dance floor in search of the one woman he would consider dancing with tonight. His primal self had roared to the surface of his outwardly civilised veneer, and it wouldn’t take much to tip that over into passion. Stacey had given him more than enough reason. He wouldn’t sleep until they’d had it out.

Lucas had left the table. There was no sign of him. Had she offended him, thereby ruining Party Planners’ chances of securing the next contract? She would never forgive herself if that were the case. The couples on the dance floor were thinning out, but it would be a long time until she was off duty, because Stacey would stay until the last member of staff had left. There were always stragglers amongst the guests who couldn’t take the hint that the people who had worked so hard to give them a wonderful time would like to go home at some point. The band had been hired to play for as long as people wanted to dance and, while both wait staff and musicians looked exhausted, none of the guests had taken the hint. There was only one thing for it. Politely and firmly, she told those who seemed hardly to know where they were any longer that the next shift would soon be arriving to set up for breakfast, and that the cleaners needed to come in first, and then she stood by ready to shepherd every last partygoer out of the room.

That done, she returned. She’d helped to tidy up the kitchen, and now she made herself useful by checking beneath tables for forgotten items. A surprising number of things were left behind at well-lubricated parties.

Another job completed, she crawled out backwards from the last table. Straightening up, still on hands and knees, she groaned as she placed her hands in the small of her back.

‘Can I help you?’

She jerked around so fast at the sound of Lucas’s voice she almost fell over.

‘You all right?’ he asked, lunging forward to catch her before she hit the ground. Shaking him off, she gave him one of her looks. ‘I see nothing has changed. Still the same accident-prone Stacey,’ he suggested as she staggered to her feet.

‘Only when you’re around. You jinx me.’

‘Can I help?’

‘No, thank you. Just put a safe distance between us and I’ll be fine.’

‘As always,’ he observed. ‘The status quo must be maintained—Stacey is fine.’

‘I am fine,’ she insisted with an edge of tiredness in her tone.

‘Too tired to keep your professional mask on?’

‘Something like that,’ she admitted with a sigh.

He laughed, and maybe she was overtired, because the sight of that sexy mouth slanting attractively made her want to stop fighting and be friends.

‘You’ve done enough tonight,’ he stated firmly as she looked around for something else to do.

‘It’s my job.’

‘Your job is to dance with me,’ Luc argued to her astonishment. ‘Unless you decide to blatantly ignore a client request, in which case I’ll have no alternative other than to report you for being uncooperative.’

‘You are joking?’

‘Am I? Are you willing to take that risk?’

If this had been ten years ago, she would have challenged him all the way down the line, but she was sure she could see a glint of amusement in his eyes. And why was she fighting anyway? ‘You’re going to report me because I won’t dance with you?’ she suggested in a very different tone.

One sweeping ebony brow lifted. ‘Sounds fair to me.’

‘Everything you say sounds fair to you,’ she pointed out, but she was smiling. Luc did that to her. He warmed her when she was in her grumpiest mood, and tonight, looking at him, grumpy was the furthest thing from her mind. ‘You are definitely the most annoying man in the world,’ she told him.

As well as the most exciting.

‘And, thanks for the offer, but I have a lovely placid life and I intend to keep it that way.’

‘Boring, do you mean?’ Luc suggested, thumbing a chin shaded with stubble as if it were morning and he’d just got out of bed.

‘I do not mean boring,’ she countered, thoroughly thrown by the way her mind was working. ‘I like things just the way they are.’

Luc sucked in his cheeks and the expression in his eyes turned from lightly mocking to openly disbelieving. ‘You don’t stay still long enough to know what placid means.’ And then he shrugged and half turned, as if he meant to go.

She felt like a hunted doe granted an unexpected reprieve. Badly wanting to prolong the encounter, she was forced to admit that Luc scared her. They’d always had a love-hate relationship: love when they were with the animals they both cared so deeply for, and hate when she saw the easy way Luc wound everyone around his little finger, especially women, forcing teenage Stacey to grit her teeth and burn. How could she not appear gauche compared to the type of sophisticated woman he dated? If she took her clothes off, would she measure up, or would Luc mock her as he used to when she tried to outride him? She couldn’t bear it. And…if they had sex—heaven help her for even thinking that thought—she would surely make a fool of herself. Having made it her business to be clued up where most things were concerned, short of doing it, it wasn’t possible to be clued up about sex, especially with a six-foot-six rugby-playing brother standing in the wings to make sure no half-decent man got near her. When she’d left home for college she hadn’t found anyone to match up to Lucas, and the few dates she’d been on had put her off sex for life. Who knew that not everyone showered frequently, or had feet as sexy as she had discovered Luc’s were when the three of them used to go swimming in the river? And he wouldn’t have patience with a novice. Why should he, when the women she’d seen him with were so confident and knowing? Was it likely he’d give lessons? Hardly, she reflected as she followed his gaze around the room.

‘Staff shouldn’t be working this late,’ he said, turning to her. ‘That goes for you too. I’m going to send everyone home.’

‘Even me?’ she challenged lightly.

‘No. You’re going to stay and dance. Don’t move,’ he warned as he went to give the order.

Stacey had done her research and knew Lucas owned this hotel together with several more. He gave the word and came back to her. Everyone apart from a lone guitarist left the ballroom. When Luc returned, he explained that the musician had asked if he could stay on, as he had a flight to catch, and there was no point in going to bed.

‘He told me that he’d rather unwind by playing the melodies he loved than spending a few hours in his room, and I get that.’ Lucas shrugged. ‘I told him to stay as long as he likes. He’s not disturbing anyone. Certainly not us,’ he added with a long, penetrating look.

Us?

Okay. Get over that. Had she forgotten Luc’s love of music? He used to stream music for her to work to at the farmhouse. Maybe she’d added a special significance to the lyrics of the tunes he chose, but the music had helped her escape into another world where there were no grimy floors and dirty dishes. ‘I’d welcome anything that drowns out the sound of men’s voices,’ she would say.

And now?

‘Do you always get your way?’ she asked, biting her lip to curb a smile.

‘Invariably,’ Luc admitted, straight-faced. And then he laughed. They both laughed, and what they shared in those few unguarded moments was everything she could wish for: warmth, a past that needed no explanation, and acceptance that they’d both changed, and that life was better now.

‘So, why aren’t you in bed?’ she asked cheekily as the guitarist ended one tune and segued into another.

‘I should be,’ Luc agreed, but in a way that made her cheeks warm, and suddenly all she could think about was that thwarted kiss all those years ago. Would he push her away if she kissed him now?

‘Come on—tell me why you’re here.’

‘To see you,’ he admitted with a wicked look.

‘Me?’ She laughed, a little nervously now. It always amazed her how the old, uncertain Stacey could return to haunt her at emotionally charged moments like this.

‘Why are you so surprised?’ Luc asked, bursting her bubble. ‘I’m the host of a party you planned. Don’t you usually have a debriefing session?’

‘Not over a dance,’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

‘We’ve never danced together before.’

‘Let’s start a new tradition.’

His eyes were dark and smouldering, while she was most certainly not looking her best after the busiest of evenings. Was he mocking her? It wouldn’t be the first time. They’d mocked each other constantly when she was younger. ‘Me dance with you?’ she queried suspiciously.

Luc’s black stare swept the ballroom. ‘Do you see anyone else asking?’

‘This had better not be a pity dance,’ she warned.

‘A pity dance?’ he queried.

‘Yes, you know, when Niahl used to dance with me whenever I attended those balls you two used to rip up together?’

‘The cattle markets?’ Lucas frowned as he thumbed his stubble.

‘That’s what you called them back then,’ Stacey agreed.

‘What would you call groups of hopefuls with one end in sight?’

‘Sheep to the slaughter’

He laughed. ‘Of course you would.’

‘I was a poor little wallflower,’ she insisted, pulling a tragic face. ‘No one ever asked me to dance.’

‘I wouldn’t call you a wallflower. You were more of a thistle. No one wanted to dance with you because you scowled all the time. People want happy partners to have fun with.’

‘The type of fun it’s better to avoid,’ she suggested.

Lucas didn’t answer but his expression said that was a matter of opinion.

‘Anyway, I didn’t scowl,’ she insisted, ‘and if I had smiled as you suggest, Niahl would have gone ballistic. He never let anyone near me.’

‘Quite right,’ Lucas agreed, pretending to be stern while the corner of his mouth was twitching. ‘Your brother never liked to see you sitting at a loss, so he danced with you. I don’t see anything wrong with that.’

Stacey rolled her eyes. ‘Every girl’s dream is to dance with her brother, while he scans the room looking for someone he really wants to be with.’

‘You’re not at a loss now,’ Lucas said as he drew her to her feet.

‘It appears not,’ Stacey answered. She was amazed by how calm she could sound while her senses were rioting from Lucas’s firm grip alone. And now their faces were very close. She turned away. ‘I’m sure there must be something I should be doing instead of dancing.’

‘Yes,’ Lucas agreed. His wicked black eyes smiled a challenge deep into hers. ‘I plan to discuss that as we dance.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE WOULD DANCE and keep a sensible distance.

Lucas was so big, was that even possible?

Even his mouth was sexy, and, like a magnet, was drawing her in. And then there was his scent: warm, clean man, laced with citrus and sandalwood. Damn him for making her feel as if anything he had to say or do was fine by her. She should have stayed until she’d checked every table for lost items, made sure the staff had all gone to bed, and then departed for her room, too tired to think about Lucas.

Where she would continue her lonely existence? She’d made lots of friends since leaving home, but they had their own lives, and carving a village out of a city as big and diverse as London wasn’t easy. She had achieved her goal in maintaining her independence and progressing her career, but there was a price to pay for everything, and romance had passed her by. It would have been safer not to dance with Lucas, but he was an anchor who reminded her of good things in her past. Teasing and tormenting him, laughing with him, caring for the animals they loved side by side, had bred an intimacy between them went beyond sex. There was a time when she’d rather have had Lucas tell her that he admired her horsemanship than her breasts, and that was still partly true today. In her fantasies, being held safe in his arms was always the best option, but this wasn’t safe. His hands on her body as they danced and his breath on her cheek couldn’t remotely be called safe. It was a particular type of torture that made her want more.

Thankfully, she was stronger than that. ‘So we’ve danced,’ she declared as if her body wasn’t shouting hallelujah, while her sensible mind begged her to leave. ‘It’s time for me to go to bed.’

‘No,’ he argued flatly. ‘You can’t leave now. It would be rude to the musician. He might think we don’t like his music.’

She glanced at the guitarist, who was absorbed in his own world. ‘Do you think he’d notice?’

Luc’s lips pressed down as he followed her gaze. ‘I’m sure he would. Do you want to risk it?’

‘No,’ Stacey admitted. The man had played non-stop during the banquet. Who could deny him his downtime?

‘Good,’ Lucas murmured, bringing her close.

He’d turned her insides to molten honey with nothing more than an intimate tone in his voice, and the lightest touch of his hands. The sultry Spanish music clawed at her soul, forcing her to relax, and, as so often happened when she relaxed, she thought about the mother she’d lost before even knowing her, and those long, lonely nights of uncertainty when she was a child, asking herself what her mother would have advised Stacey to do to please everyone the following day. She’d failed so miserably on that front, and had begun to wonder if she would ever get it right.