In the Brazilian's Debt
Page 19
‘Amazing,’ Lucas agreed.
‘I mean, have you had a chance to look around this place? It’s like something from one of those house magazines! It’s hard to believe that anyone actually ever uses this lodge. Everything’s just so...shiny and expensive!’
‘Money impresses you, does it?’ Lucas thought of all the other apartments and houses he owned, scattered in cities across the world from New York to Hong Kong. He even had a villa on an exclusive Caribbean island. He hadn’t been there for at least a couple of years...
Milly leaned on the table, cupped her chin in the palm of her hand and gazed at him. Amazing eyes, she thought idly, with even more amazing lashes—long, dark and thick. And there was a certain arrogance about him. She should find it a complete turn-off, especially considering that Robbie had had his fair share of arrogance, and what a creep he had turned out to be. But Adonis’s arrogance was somehow different... Just look at the way he had stuck his feet on that chair.
‘No...’ she admitted. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, money is great. I wish I had more of it.’ Especially considering I have no job to return to. ‘But I was brought up to believe that there were more important things in life. My parents died in a car accident when I was eight and my grandmother raised me. Well, there wasn’t an awful lot of money to go round, but that never bothered me. I think people create the lives they want to live and they do that without the help of money...’
She sighed. ‘Stop me if I’m talking too much. I do that. But, now that I know you’re not a burglar, it’s kind of nice having someone here. I mean, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning, but... Okay, enough of me... Is this the first time you’ve worked for the Ramos family? I mean, I couldn’t help noticing that you called them by their first names...’
Lucas thought of Alberto and Julia Ramos and choked back a snort of derisive laughter at the thought of working for them. In actual fact, Alberto had worked for his father. Lucas had inherited him when his father had died and, because of the personal connection, had resisted sacking the man, who was borderline incompetent. He found them intensely annoying but his mother was godmother to one of their children.
‘We go back a way,’ he said, skirting round the truth.
‘Thought so.’
‘Why is that?’
Milly laughed and it felt as though this was the first time she had laughed, really laughed, for a long time. Well, at least two weeks, although there had been a moment or two with her friends post-traumatic break-up. Manic, desperate laughter, probably...
‘Because you’ve got your feet on the chair and you’ve just dumped that empty bottle on the kitchen counter! Sandra told me that under no circumstances was there to be any sign that I’d stepped foot in this lodge when I left. I might even have to wipe all the surfaces just in case they find my fingerprints somewhere.’
‘You have a wonderful laugh,’ Lucas heard himself say with some surprise. She did. A rich, full-bodied laugh that made him want to grin.
And looking at her...
That first impression of someone small and plump with crazy hair was being rapidly dispelled. She was small, yes, barely skimming five-four, but her skin was satiny smooth and her eyes were the clearest blue he had ever seen. And when she laughed she had dimples.
Milly went bright red. In the aftermath of her horrible, horrible broken engagement, her self-confidence had been severely battered, and his compliment filled her with a terrific sense of wellbeing. Even if he had only complimented her on the way she laughed, which, when you analysed it, was hardly a compliment at all. But, still, coming from Adonis...
‘Must be great being a ski instructor,’ she said, all hot and bothered now. ‘Would you like to know something? I mean, it’s no big secret or anything...’
‘I would love to know something...even if it’s no big secret or anything...’ Hell, this impromptu break was certainly proving to be a great distraction in ways he had never anticipated.
‘I used to ski—I mean really ski. I went on a school trip when I was ten and somehow I took to it. When I was fifteen, I even thought I might try and go pro, but you know... We didn’t have the money for that sort of thing. But it’s why I was looking forward to this job...’
Her situation hit her like a blast of cold air: no fiancé, no job, no two weeks’ chalet income with the bonus of skiing now and again. She shook away her sudden despondency, which wasn’t going to get her anywhere. ‘Frankly, it’s why Sandra employed me in the first place when there were other better looking girls lining up for the job.’ That and my low levels of physical attractiveness. ‘I thought I might be able to sneak a little skiing in, but now... Oh, well, that’s life, I guess. My luck’s been crap recently so I don’t know why I’m surprised this fell through.’
She smiled, digging deep to recover some of her sunny nature. ‘Hey, I don’t even know your name! I’m Amelia, but my friends call me Milly.’ She held out her hand, and the feel of his cool fingers as he shook it sent a wave of dizzying electric charge straight through her body, from her toes to the top of her head.
‘And I am...Lucas.’ So she thought he was a ski instructor. How frankly refreshing to be in the company of a woman who didn’t know his worth, who didn’t simper, who wasn’t out to try and trap him. ‘And I think we might just be able to solve the matter of your lost job...’
Copyright © 2015 by Cathy Williams
ISBN-13: 9781460378342
In the Brazilian’s Debt
Copyright © 2015 by Susan Stephens
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com