by Julia James
But it had not been the earthquake that had stolen his home from his parents and left them with nothing. That had been done not by the gods, or Nature, but by man. By one man.
He moved away from the rail, turning abruptly. He would not think of that—not now. He refused to think of the man who had stolen from his parents all they’d held most dear. He had got his revenge and that man was gone. Destroyed by his avenging hand.
‘Luke?’
Talia’s voice at his side was hesitant, her hand on his stiffened arm tentative. For a moment he looked down at her, at her upturned face. But it was not her face he beheld.
It was her father’s.
His eyes darkened, but with an effort he cleared his expression.
It’s not her fault—not her fault she’s his daughter. I cannot blame her for being that.
He would not let it trouble him. Not now. Not when he had finally made her his.
He rested his eyes on her with appreciation in his gaze. It was not just her beauty that drew him, incandescent though it was—it was so much else, as well. He tried to analyse it, and failed, and then he didn’t care that he couldn’t analyse it. All he knew was that he could spend time with her and never be bored or restless, that whatever they talked about the conversation flowed between them, easy and spontaneous, just as it had that very first evening they’d met.
He was enjoying this relaxed, easy-going time with her—enjoying the fact that he could put his arm around her shoulder and she would lean in, or take her hand and she would squeeze his and smile at him, a warm and wonderful smile. He took delight in simply watching her move, in listening to her voice, in simply being with her.
Whatever it is she does to me it is something that no other woman can.
It was a truth he accepted now. And all he wanted to do was celebrate that truth.
He had come a long way to reach this point in his life. He had avenged his parents, destroyed his enemy, and he had even—his smile was wry—stepped in to save that devastated hotel, as if in tribute to the lost pride and joy of his parents, the legacy he had never inherited.
And now he was ready for this time with Talia.
He tilted his flute to hers, hearing the crystal ring out softly. His eyes met her upturned gaze, warming as they did.
‘To us,’ he said. ‘To our time together.’
And life felt very, very sweet.
* * *
Talia was working. She was out on the balcony of her bedroom—not that she slept there any longer, for after that first night with Luke she always shared his bed. He was leaving her to work as she wanted, and she was glad.
Her eyes shadowed for a moment. Though he’d never referred to it again, it was clear that he judged her by the work she’d done for her father. But that fact only made her burn to show him that she was capable of better. And she was, she knew, for she was fizzing with unleashed creativity, inspired by the ruined majesty of the hotel, and she was rejoicing in it. She would make that sad, crumbling hotel come alive and show Luke just how beautiful it could be—in harmony with nature, as vivid and vibrant as its setting between the rainforest and the sea.
She worked on, busily and fruitfully, making the most of this time to herself, wanting to be as productive as she could be. Luke was away from the villa, interviewing architects, project managers, structural engineers—all the technical personnel who would be necessary to render the building sound again. Only when the empty shell was ready and waiting for her could her ideas start to take reality.
Once she had the artwork done, though, she wanted to head into the island’s capital, to see what she would be able to source locally. She wanted to discover as much as she could about fabrics and designs that were in harmony with the island’s heritage, its people, their culture. She’d already consulted Fernando and his wife, Julie, who was the housekeeper, and they had given her some good potential leads to follow up. In a small community like this one, there was so much untapped potential in local knowledge.
She felt her enthusiasm firing up a notch and it buzzed in her veins. She paused to look out across the vista, at the fabulous hillside view across the emerald-green landscape down to the azure sea. How beautiful it was! The whole world was beautiful—her world was beautiful. Her existence was blissful.
Because of Luke.
Luke had lit up her life and set her heart glowing with a fire that she could never quench—never wanted to quench. She sang his name in her head—more than just his name.
I’m in love with him.
As she gazed out over the vista before her she felt her breath catch as the realisation hit her. The truth of what she felt for him vibrated in her head as gloriously as his name! A rush of emotion fused through her. Of course she was in love with him! How could she not be? How could she not be in love with the man whose every touch thrilled her? Her expression softened with tenderness and recollection. The man with whom she felt so at ease.
That time of painful conflict between them had vanished. How had it ever existed, she wondered, when now the glow of warmth in his eyes never faded? How wonderful he was! How he made her smile, and laugh, made her feel carefree when he caught her to him and held her close, so close that she could feel the beat of his heart against hers!
Of course I’m in love with him! How could I not be?
She felt the rush of emotion come again, filling her being, and with it came another emotion, searing through her.
Hope.
Hope that if she was in love with him, then he might be in love with her.
Surely his passion for her, his ardour, cried out how much he felt—and not just in bed but all the time. The way he looked at her, took her hand, wound his arm around her, poured his gaze into hers, smiled at her, laughed with her... It was as if he could not get enough of her. And the way he nestled her against him, held her hand, meshed his fingers with hers, as if he would never let her go... Surely he felt the same?
She felt her breath catch again. A sigh of hope, of happiness, of sheer delight, escaped her as she breathed his name again.
In a dreamy-eyed reverie she reached for her colours again, more determined than ever to do her very best work for Luke.
A couple of hours later, a discreet cough behind her broke her concentration. It was Fernando, bringing a tray of tea for her, and she took a grateful break as the sun lowered to the horizon. Later she would ready herself for the evening. Luke was taking her out, and she wanted to dazzle him.
* * *
Julie had skilfully altered her evening gown for her, ridding it of all the frills and flounces. Its simple style had a sensual impact which she knew Luke would prefer.
Talia studied her appearance in the long mirror before heading downstairs for the evening, looking at her dramatic eye make-up and the long, loosened tresses of her hair tumbling over her shoulders.
She wished she could add some jewellery, but she had none. She’d never really had any, according to the lawyers who had brutally informed her that both her and her mother’s jewellery were classed as a corporate asset, since her father had bought it with company funds and claimed it against tax.
Not, she thought with sudden bitterness, that it had been given to her by her father out of affection, but only because his daughter, like his wife, needed to be draped in expensive baubles to reflect his own success in life. They had been tokens of his wealth, not of his love.
She shook the memory from her, and forgot it completely in the glow of appreciation in Luke’s eyes as she walked down the wide sweep of the staircase.
He closed in on her. ‘Maybe we should postpone dinner,’ he murmured, and the familiar husk in his voice sent a little thrill of arousal through Talia. Then he released her. ‘No, I want to enjoy looking at you all evening and delay my gratification. The reward will come later.’ His dark eyes glinted with open desire. ‘And will be all t
he sweeter for it.’
He handed her into the waiting limo.
‘Where are we going?’ Talia asked.
He laughed. ‘We’re going to try the place you flounced out of and see if we can have a better time there tonight.’
Talia smiled. It was a certainty that they would enjoy the evening a million times more than the disastrous first time.
And so it proved.
This time Talia was as relaxed as she had been tense before. Now, as they took their places at their table, she gazed about the room with equanimity.
Luke followed her gaze. He frowned inwardly, remembering that first evening. when he had discovered how completely unqualified and inexperienced Talia was to undertake what he’d so rashly invited her here to do.
His expression softened. Well, he would come up with some tactful way of hiring a designer who was up to the task, and in the meantime, if it brought Talia pleasure to dabble with her colours and paints, imagining she was doing something useful with the time she was spending on dreaming up her designs, then he was happy to indulge her.
Just as her father had, he realised with another inward frown.
With a rich, doting father, Talia would have been allowed to imagine herself useful to her darling daddy, however hopeless she actually was. As witnessed by the dire interiors of all the Grantham properties. Tasteless, ostentatious, and ‘cookie-cutter’—showing not a trace of flair or originality or style.
Impatiently, he cleared his unwelcome thoughts. His interest in Talia was not in her professional talents—or lack of them.
His expression softened and he reached for her hand across the table. ‘Have I told you yet how incredibly delectable you look tonight?’ he asked, a smile in his voice and his eyes. His gaze glanced over her. ‘That dress is spectacular!’ he breathed, his eyes lingering on the generous cleavage that it exposed.
Talia laughed. ‘It’s the same dress I wore that first time here. Julie altered it for me. I think it’s a huge improvement, and if you do too then we’re both pleased.’
Luke frowned. ‘You shouldn’t have had to do that. We’ll go shopping tomorrow,’ he announced decisively.
‘Can we?’ she asked eagerly. ‘I really want to start checking out what I can source for the refurb here on the island. Fernando’s been kind enough to make some suggestions as to shops I can look at, for fabrics and so on.’
‘If that’s what you want,’ Luke agreed equably. It would do no harm, after all, and if it kept her happy then he would give her her head. ‘But we’ll try the boutiques first. There’s an upmarket mall not far from here—you’ll be able to find some of your usual designers there, I’m sure.’
She was looking at him uncertainly. ‘I...I don’t really think I should. I’ve got a wardrobe full of designer dresses at the Marbella villa. I didn’t bring any of them with me because I thought I’d be here to work, and I wouldn’t really need any evening wear.’
‘Well, you do,’ Luke replied decisively. ‘Although...’ his voice dropped, taking on a sensual twist ‘...I far prefer you with nothing on at all.’
The arrival of the service staff put paid to any further explication and he settled back to order. This time they would enjoy the Michelin-starred delights on the extensive menu—and the prestigious wine cellars. This time nothing would mar their evening.
Nor did it.
In the luxurious surroundings of the five-star hotel, both he and Talia enjoyed a leisurely meal and then, repairing to the terrace which overlooked the hotel’s private beach, they settled down with liqueurs and coffee. What they talked about Luke couldn’t remember—he knew only that conversation flowed easily, as it always did now.
Eventually they made a move. Luke’s arm came around her shoulder and she nestled into his casual embrace. As they made their way back to the lobby, along a wide, marble-tiled concourse, Luke paused beside one of the several exclusive boutiques that lined each side.
‘Want to look in?’ He smiled. ‘We could make a start on your new wardrobe.’
The store was still open, even at this late hour, for the hotel’s patrons might wish to make purchases at any time. The window display sported several svelte evening gowns, all of which would have looked spectacular on Talia. But she shook her head.
‘Way too late,’ she said, and smiled.
Then her eye was caught by something. On a separate plinth in the window was a display of jewellery. She lingered another moment. One of the pieces—a showy diamond and pearl pendant—looked like the one her father had bestowed upon her for a birthday a few years ago. Her expression flickered.
‘Does that take your fancy?’ Luke asked in a genial tone.
‘It’s like one my father gave me,’ she heard herself say. Then she cut herself short. She didn’t want to think about it.
Her father had only ever presented jewellery to her when her mother was present, and Talia had had to exclaim in surprise and delight at his generosity. It would always elicit some comment from her mother about how wonderful her father was, how generous he was to them.
Talia shuddered at the hypocrisy of her response, at how her father had made her collude with his flattering image of himself lest her mother be upset. Her mother had always needed to go on believing in the fiction that they were a happy family, that hers was a happy marriage. She’d never been able to face the brutal truth of it.
‘I think that would suit you better.’
Grateful for Luke’s interruption of her troubled thoughts, Talia looked to where he was indicating a ruby bracelet, glittering under the spotlight highlighting the display.
‘Oh, that is beautiful!’ Talia exclaimed spontaneously, for the delicate array of rich red gems forming a continuous loop was indeed breathtakingly lovely in its stylish simplicity.
Then something else caught her eye. A watch—a man’s watch, judging by its size and design—its face and casing almost completely obliterated with diamonds.
She giggled—she couldn’t stop herself. ‘Oh, Luke, do look!’ She cast him a mischievous glance. ‘Now, you have to admit that’s a lot less dull than your boring watch!’
She touched with her finger the sombre, understated, formidably elegant—and ferociously expensive—custom-made watch that he always wore. Memory played at her—how she’d noticed it at that party, made some comment about it, and he had said it had been a reward for himself.
With an inner shiver she realised with hindsight just what the reason for that costly indulgence had been.
He had been celebrating taking over Grantham Land.
That inner shiver came again. Her father, too, had liked to celebrate any major kill he’d made in the marketplace. A new car—the latest model of whatever was the most expensive brand at the time—had been his favoured object of conspicuous display, his way of showing off his success to the world.
Again, she was grateful as Luke replied to her deliberately teasing comment.
‘Diamonds would look better on you than me,’ he said dryly. He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Come on—stop drooling like a magpie!’ His voice changed, grew husky. ‘I want to get you home.’
He paused to drop a kiss on her mouth—lingering enough to let her know why he was so keen to get her home, just swift enough to keep it decent in public.
But as he bore her off across the lobby to get her into the car, so he wouldn’t have to care about public behaviour, he found himself glancing back at the display of glittering jewellery. So she liked the ruby bracelet?
A smile flickered around his mouth as he walked by her side.
Well, why not? He was in the mood to be indulgent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I’LL TAKE A swatch of this one, and this...and this. And that one. And let’s try that one as well.’ Talia smiled as the woman nodded, reaching for her scissors to cut the strips of fabric that her customer had
selected.
Talia got out her notebook, noting the fabric names and colours, then checking the price per metre for each of them and adding that too. She tapped the book in satisfaction. There—that was a start. And it was looking promising.
She launched into a technical discussion with the woman, of widths and weights and thread counts and finishes. This was where she was in her element, and she was loving it. Loving being able to get totally stuck in to the next stage of turning her creative vision into reality.
The saleswoman was enthusiastic—as well she might be, Talia acknowledged, given the value of her custom if Luke were to agree to her proposals.
Oh, please let him like what I’ve come up with. Please let him agree with my vision for the place! I so, so want it to be beautiful and for him to love it like I do.
She knew she had to be careful in her costings. Luke had made it very clear he wanted value for money. Her mouth tightened in grim memory. But she was used to having to justify every pound she spent. Her father had always given her the tightest budget he could get away with, and there had never been any question that he would tolerate her exceeding it by so much as a penny.
She shook her head free of unpleasant memories. Her work here was completely different. This was a labour of love.
She smiled to herself. Thoughts fluttered deep inside, in a place she scarcely dared acknowledge. A labour of love, indeed—and not just for the sake of bringing back to vivid, vibrant life that sad, hurricane-blasted hotel.
It was for Luke’s sake.
The man she loved.
Her smile became rueful. Out of love, she had let him do what she knew she shouldn’t have that very morning.
