скачать книгу бесплатно
‘This isn’t romance,’ Ben said. ‘It’s much more fun than that. And, either way, I bet you feel better in the morning.’
And she would. Sex aside, she’d get a stress-free evening, with no need to entertain since Ben was clearly capable of making his own fun. She could just relax and let someone else take charge for a few hours. Could she even do that? She wasn’t sure she ever had before.
‘Admit it—you’re tempted.’
Ben leant across the table, that scarred eyebrow raised, and Luce knew that she was. In more ways than one.
‘By dinner,’ she told him firmly. ‘Nothing else.’
Ben gave her a lazy smile. ‘As you like.’
It might be the worst idea she’d ever had. But at least she’d have somewhere to sleep for the night, and the whole week ahead would look more manageable after a relaxing evening and a solid eight hours’ rest. And maybe tomorrow morning she could tell him who she was and watch his amused composure slip as he realised he’d tried to seduce Loser Luce. Again. That would almost make it worth it in itself.
I shouldn’t. I have responsibilities.
But even Grandad Myles, duty and responsibility’s biggest advocate, would have wanted her to take a night off once in a while. Wouldn’t he? She was stressed, overwhelmed and exhausted—and utterly useless to anybody in such a state. A night off to regroup would enable her to better help others and get things done more efficiently. Nothing at all to do with wanting to find out what she’d been missing on all those university nights out.
Besides, hadn’t she fantasised about a night in the Royal Court’s best suite?
‘On one condition,’ she said.
Ben grinned. ‘Anything.’
‘I want to take advantage of your hopefully plush and expensive bathroom first.’ With bubbles. And maybe champagne.
Ben’s grin grew wider. ‘Deal.’
‘Then give me my organiser back.’ She was already starting to feel a bit jittery without it. Maybe she could review her lists in the bath. Multi-tasking—that was the key to a productive life.
But Ben shook his head. ‘First thing tomorrow it’s all yours. Not one moment before.’
‘But I need—’
‘Trust me,’ Ben said, taking her hand in his across the table. ‘Tonight I’ll be in charge of meeting all your needs.’
A red-hot flush ran across Luce’s skin. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
CHAPTER THREE
LUCE HAD NEVER seen such a magnificent bathroom.
The size of the rolltop tub almost helped her forget the sight of Ben locking her beloved crimson leather organiser in the suite’s mini-safe. And the glass of champagne he’d poured her before she’d absconded to the bathroom more than made up for the way she’d blushed when he’d asked if she was sure she didn’t want him to help scrub her back.
Tearing her eyes away from the bath, Luce checked the door, then turned the lock. She’d told him as clearly as she could that the only part of his offer she was interested in was dinner and the spare bed. No point giving him the wrong idea now.
Of course she wasn’t entirely sure what the right idea was. Accepting an offer of a night out with a gorgeous man—whatever the terms and conditions—wasn’t exactly typical Luce behaviour. She hadn’t even made a pros and cons list, for a start.
But the decision was made now. She might as well make the most of it.
Turning on the taps, Luce rifled through the tiny bottles of complimentary lotions and potions, settling on something that claimed to be a ‘relaxing and soothing’ bath foam. Sounded perfect. After a moment’s consideration she tipped the whole bottle into the running water. She was in need of all the relaxation she could get. That was the point of this whole night, wasn’t it? And, since it was the only one she was likely to get for a while, she really should make the most of it.
Luce took a swig of her champagne, stripped off her clothes and climbed into the heavenly scented hot water.
Relaxation. How hard could it be?
It would be a whole lot easier, she decided after a few moments of remaining tense, if Ben Hampton wasn’t waiting outside for her.
Tipping her head back against the edge of the bath, Luce tried to conjure up the image of the last time she’d seen him. After so many years of trying to forget she’d thought it would be harder to remember. But the sounds, scents, sights were all as fresh in her mind as they’d been eight years ago, at the swanky Palace Hotel, London, for Ben’s twenty-first birthday party.
It had been a stupid idea to go in the first place. But Mandy had wanted someone to travel down on the train with and Ben had raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, ‘Well, sure you can come. If you really want to.’ And Luce had wanted to—just a bit. Just to see what birthdays looked like for the rich and privileged.
Much as she’d expected, it turned out. Too much champagne. Too many people laughing too loudly. Bright lights and dancing and shimmery expensive dresses. In her green cotton frock, and with her hair long and loose instead of pinned back in one of the intricate styles the other girls had seemed to favour, Luce had felt just as out of place as she’d predicted.
So she’d hidden in another room—some sort of sitting area decked out like a gentleman’s library. Books never made her feel inadequate, after all. She could sit and read until Mandy was ready to head back to their tiny shared hotel room. Not a Hampton hotel, but a cheap, probably infested place three tube stops away. It had been the perfect plan—until Ben had found her.
‘You’ve got the right idea,’ he’d said, lurching into the chair next to her.
Luce, who’d already watched him down glass after glass of champagne that evening, had inched further away. ‘Not enjoying your party?’ she’d asked.
Ben had shrugged. ‘It’s a party. Hard not to enjoy a party.’ His eyes had narrowed as he’d studied her. ‘Although you seem to be managing it.’
Looking away, Luce had fiddled with the hem of her dress. ‘It’s not really my kind of party.’
‘It’s not really mine either,’ Ben had said.
When Luce had glanced across at him he’d been staring at the door. But then his attention had jerked back to her, and a wide, not entirely believable grin had been on his face. ‘It’s just my dad showing off, really. There are more of his business associates here than my friends.’
‘And yet you invited me?’
He’d laughed at that. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
‘Not really.’ They’d had nothing in common besides proximity to Mandy until that moment, right then, when Luce had felt his gaze meeting hers, connecting them—until she’d realised she was leaning forward, into him, waiting for his answer.
‘We could be.’
He’d inched closer too, leaning over the arm of his chair until Luce had been able to smell the champagne on his breath.
‘You’re a hell of a lot of a nicer person than Mandy.’
‘Mandy’s my friend,’ Luce had said, trying to find the energy to defend her. But all she’d been able to see was Ben’s eyes, pupils black and wide. ‘Your girlfriend.’ She couldn’t think with him so close.
‘Mandy’s out there flirting with a forty-something businessman she knows will never leave his wife but might buy her some nice jewellery.’
Luce had winced. He was probably right. For a moment she’d felt her first ever pang of sympathy for Ben Hampton.
But then he’d leant in further, his hand coming up to rest against her cheek, and Luce had known she should pull away, run away, get away from Ben Hampton for good.
His lips had been soft, gentle against hers, she remembered. But only for a brief moment. One insane lapse in judgement. Before she jerked back, leaving him bent over the space where she’d been. She’d upped and run—just as she should have done the moment she’d arrived at the party and seen how much she didn’t fit in.
Luce sighed and let the memory go. Much more pleasant to focus on the hot water and scented bubbles of her bath than on Ben’s face as she’d turned back at the doorway. Or the humiliation she’d felt, her cheeks burning, as she’d run out, his laughter echoing in her ears, and dragged Mandy away from her businessman and back to that flea-ridden hotel.
He probably didn’t remember. He’d been drunk and young and stupid. He’d certainly never have done it sober. Why else would he have laughed? The whole incident was ridiculous. Luce was a grown woman now, with bigger concerns than what Ben Hampton thought of her.
Except he was waiting outside the bathroom door, ready to take her out for dinner. And afterwards...
Luce shut her eyes and dunked her head under the water.
* * *
What the hell was she doing in there?
Ben checked his watch, then poured himself another glass of champagne. It was coming up to three quarters of an hour since he’d heard the lock turn, and since then there had been only the occasional splash. Apparently she was taking the whole relaxing thing seriously. He should have remembered earlier how his ex-girlfriend had complained about Luce disappearing into the bathroom with her history texts and using up all the hot water on ridiculously indulgent baths. At the time he’d just found it comforting to know that the woman had some weaknesses. Now it was seriously holding up his evening.
But at least it gave him the opportunity to do some research. Unlocking the safe, he pulled out Luce’s organiser again and sank into the armchair by the window to read. Really, the woman was the epitome of over-scheduled. And almost none of the things written into the tiny diary spaces in neat block capitals seemed like things she’d be doing for herself. Christmas dinners—plural—for family, attending lectures for colleagues, looking after someone else’s cat... And then, on a Sunday near the end of January, the words ‘BOOK DRAFT DEADLINE’ in red capitals. Interesting. Definitely something to talk about over dinner.
She baffled him. That was why he wanted to know more. On the one hand, he was pretty sure he could predict her entire life story leading from university to here. On the other, however...there was something else there. Something he hadn’t seen or noticed when they were younger. Something that hooked him in even if he wasn’t ready to admit why. Yes, she was attractive. That on its own was nothing new. But this self-sacrificing mentality—was it a martyr complex? A bullying mother? Luce hadn’t ever seemed weak, so why was she doing everything for other people?
Particularly her family, it seemed. Flicking through the pages, Ben tried to remember if he’d ever met them at university, but if he had they hadn’t made much of an impression. Now he thought about it, he did remember Luce disappearing home to Cardiff every few weeks to visit them.
Obviously a sign of things to come.
Leaning back in his chair, Ben closed the organiser and tried to resist the memories pressing against his brain. But they were too strong. Another dark-haired woman, just as tired, just as self-sacrificing—until the day she broke.
‘I’m sorry, Benji,’ she’d said. ‘Mummy has to go.’
And it didn’t matter that he’d tried everything, done anything he could think of to be good enough to make her stay. He hadn’t been able to fix things for her.
Maybe he could for Luce.
Laughing at himself, he sat up, shaking the memories away. Luce wasn’t his mother. She wasn’t tied by marriage or children. She could make her own choices far more freely. And what could he do in one night, anyway? Other than help her relax. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe all she needed was to realise that she had needs, too. And Ben was very good at assessing women’s needs.
A repetitive beeping noise interrupted his thoughts, and it took him a moment to register it as a ringtone. As he looked up, his gaze caught on Luce’s rich purple coat, slung across the sofa on the other side of the glass coffee table. She’d taken her suitcase and handbag into the bathroom with her—obvious paranoia in Ben’s view—but he’d seen her drop her phone into her coat pocket before they left the bar.
Interesting.
He should feel guilty, he supposed, but really it was all for the woman’s own good. She needed saving from herself. She needed his help.
The noise had stopped before he could retrieve the phone from the pocket of her coat, and Ben stared at the flashing screen for a moment, wondering how one woman could have so many people needing to contact her. In addition to a missed call from her mother, her notifications screen told him straight off that she had three texts from a guy called Tom, an e-mail from a man named Dennis and another missed call from an improbably named ‘Dolly’. All in the hour since they’d left the bar.
Scanning over the snippets on the screen told him all he really needed to know—every person who’d contacted her wanted something from her. Dropping the phone back into her pocket, Ben considered the evening ahead.
His plan, ill thought out to start with, had been to have a fun evening and hopefully a fun night. To show Luce a good time, then remind her who he was so they could have a laugh about it. Or he could, anyway. But now...he was invested.
Who was Lucinda Myles these days?
The last time he’d seen her must have been the night of his spectacularly disastrous twenty-first birthday party. He remembered spotting her sloping out of the hotel ballroom towards one of the drawing rooms, but after that far too much champagne had blurred the evening until the following morning and a headbangingly loud lecture from his father about appropriate behaviour and responsibility to the family reputation. Friends had helpfully filled him in on the more humorous of his antics that night, but no one had mentioned Luce.
Then the ex had broken up with him for humiliating her and ‘possibly ruining her future’, whatever that meant, and he’d had no reason to see Luce again. Who knew how much she’d changed in the intervening years?
Ben paused in his thoughts. She couldn’t have changed that much, given what he’d seen so far that day. In which case...
Grabbing the phone from the table next to him, he called down to Reception.
‘Daisy? Can you cancel my booking at The Edge tonight?’ Trendy, stainless-steel, cutting-edge fusion restaurants just weren’t Luce’s style, no matter who the concierge had needed to bribe to get him a table there that night. ‘No, don’t worry. I’ll sort out an alternative myself.’
Something more Luce. More fun too, probably.
One more quick phone call ascertained that the restaurant he was thinking of still existed. Perfect. Hanging up, Ben glanced at the bathroom door and then at his watch again. He’d given Luce long enough. Time to move on to the next stage of their evening.
Pausing first to replace the diary in the safe, he gave the bathroom door a quick rap with his knuckles and then said, loud enough to be sure he could be heard through it, ‘You’ve got five more minutes in there before I start trying to guess the pass code for your phone.’
To his surprise, the lock turned and the door opened almost instantly. Eyebrows raised, Luce stared at him and said, ‘Threats aren’t traditionally very relaxing, you know.’
But baths clearly were. Especially for Dr Lucinda Myles.
She’d changed out of those clothes he’d been longing to run his hands over, but since she’d replaced them with a slippery, silky purple dress he really wasn’t complaining. Her hair was pinned up off her neck, with a few damp tendrils curling behind her ears and across her forehead. She smiled at him, her deep red lips curving in amusement. ‘I didn’t think you were the sort of man to do speechless. I like it.’
A rush of lavender hit his lungs as she swept past him, reminding him of the ch?teau in summer, and he realised he still hadn’t spoken. ‘If I’d known you were using your time so well I’d have been much more patient,’ he said, finding his voice at last.
Luce slipped her arms into her coat, her fingers reaching into the pocket for her phone. Time for another distraction. Ben offered her his arm and she took it, forestalling her return to the world of technology and messages from people who wanted far less fun things from her than he did. ‘Now, if you’re ready, won’t you let me escort you to dinner?’
She still looked suspicious as she nodded, but she left the room beside him, steady on higher heels than he’d have expected her to be comfortable wearing. Ben smiled. This was going to be a good evening. He was sure of it. The hotel and the business were fine, and he had the company of a beautiful and intriguing woman for the night—one he might be able to help a little. And then he’d get to decamp to the cottage for the rest of the week, feeling good about himself.
Life was great.
* * *
There should be laws against men looking quite that good in a suit. Men she was determined to resist, anyway. If Dennis had ever looked even half as good maybe they would have managed more than a few coffees and the occasional fake date when he needed a partner for a university dinner or she needed someone for a family event.
Actually, no, they wouldn’t. Quite aside from the fact that Dennis became intensely irritating after more than a couple of hours in his company, she’d never felt that...spark—that connection she needed to take the risk of building an actual relationship. To her surprise, Ben Hampton had a spark. Not a relationship one, of course, but maybe something more intense. Something that definitely hadn’t been there the last time they met. Which was just as well, as he’d been dating her roommate at the time. But there was definitely something.
It was almost a shame she didn’t have the time, energy or courage to take him up on his offer to find out exactly what.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and her fingers itched to reach for it. She hadn’t called her mother back, and she’d only worry if she didn’t hear from her. Well, actually, she probably wouldn’t. Tabitha saved her concern for Tom and Dolly, safe in the knowledge that Luce could take care of herself far better than the rest of them.
Still, she’d get annoyed, which was even worse, and pull a guilt trip on Luce next time they spoke.
She really should call her back. But Ben’s arm held her hand trapped against his body, and she could feel the warmth of him even through his coat and suit jacket. Was that intentional? Trying to cut her off from her real life and keep her in this surreal bubble of a night he’d created?
Ben Hampton had invaded her life and her personal space since she’d bumped into him again, only a couple of hours ago, and she’d let him. Sat back and let him take charge, point out the problems in her life, rearrange all her plans for the evening. What had happened to taking responsibility and control?
Okay, she needed a new plan for the night. Something to wrest back control. At the very least she needed to know if he remembered her...
She shivered as they left the hotel lobby, the bitter night air stinging her face and her lungs. Icicle Christmas lights dangled above the cobbled streets, twinkling in the night like the real thing. Ben tugged her a little closer, and she wondered how it was he stayed so warm despite the winter chill.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, belatedly realising he hadn’t even told her where he was taking her. Some fancy restaurant, probably, she’d figured when pulling out the dress she’d packed for the conference gala dinner. But that wasn’t the point. No one knew where she was—least of all her. It was madness. She was out in a strange city at night with a man she barely knew. A little surreptitious internet searching in the bar while he’d been fetching the drinks had told her the bare bones of his professional career since university—which mostly seemed to be doing whatever his father needed him to do—but it hadn’t told her what sort of a man he was. She hadn’t seen him in eight years, and she hadn’t known him all that well back then. He certainly hadn’t been the kind of guy the twenty-year-old Luce had willingly spent time with. This was foolishness beyond compare. Dennis would be horrified.
Of course her mother would probably be relieved. Tabitha had always been a little afraid that her daughter had inherited none of her more flighty attributes at all.
