A Virgin for a Vow

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Luke couldn’t imagine ever saying something like that to anyone, but still.

  ‘You had tears in your eyes,’ she said. ‘Lots of them. In fact, you cried. We both did because we were so happy to be—’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ He made a choked-off sound. ‘I can’t remember the last time I cried.’

  ‘I know some men find expressing emotion really difficult, but what about when you lost Kimberley? Didn’t you cry then?’

  ‘No.’

  She gave a concerned frown. ‘Oh...’

  Luke had been so guilt-ridden he couldn’t access any other emotion. When he’d been told the news of Kimberley’s accident he had felt completely numb. It didn’t seem possible that the woman who had been in his house only a couple of hours earlier was no longer alive. He’d put the phone down after that ghastly phone call from her parents and picked up a glass where Kimberley’s lipstick was still visible on the rim. How could she be dead? For the sake of her shattered family he had swung into action, helping to organise the funeral and dealing with the distressing task of informing people outside the family of her death. He had done it in an almost robotic fashion. He’d said all the right things, done all the right things, but he’d felt like there was a thick glass wall between him and the rest of the world.

  It was still there.

  ‘Her family was having enough trouble dealing with her death without me adding to their distress,’ Luke said. ‘I had to hold it together for them.’

  He felt Abby’s gaze resting on him as if she was trying to solve a Mensa puzzle. ‘But what about when you were on your own? Didn’t you cry then?’

  ‘Not every person cries when sad stuff happens,’ Luke said through gritted teeth. ‘There are other ways to express sadness.’

  ‘But it’s really healing to have a good howl,’ Abby said. ‘It releases hormones and stuff. And you shouldn’t be ashamed of crying just because you’re a man. That’s a ridiculous myth that harms men rather than helps them. Everyone should be able to cry regardless of their gender.’

  Luke pulled up behind the queue of cars waiting to be parked by the valet team at the entrance of the premier hotel where the ball was being held. ‘Okay, Cinderella. Anything else I should know about myself before we make an entrance?’

  Her cheeks went a faint shade of pink. ‘Erm... There is one other thing...’

  The prickle moved from his neck to his spine. ‘Go on.’

  The tip of her tongue swept over her lips, making his groin tighten. ‘You tell me you love me all the time. In public.’

  Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d told his mother and sister he loved them, let alone anyone else. He wasn’t a wordy guy. He did rather than said. His father was the opposite—lots of words and empty promises and nothing to back them up. ‘O-kay.’

  ‘And you use a lot of terms of endearment. Like honey, and baby, and sweetheart.’

  That was another thing he wasn’t big on, dropping cutesy endearments into every conversation. But a man had to do what a man had to do. ‘Got it.’

  ‘And we kiss. A lot.’

  Luke’s groin was asking for more room. Urgently. Just looking at her mouth made his blood pound and head south of the border. What would it do to him to actually kiss her? ‘I’m not big on public displays of affection.’

  ‘You are now.’

  Freaking hell. What had he got himself into? ‘Will you be okay with me kissing you?’ Luke asked, frowning.

  Her gaze kept flicking back and forth from his mouth to his eyes. ‘Maybe we should have practised a bit first, you know, so we don’t look stilted or awkward together.’

  Now he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. Imagining how it would feel against his. ‘Where do you suggest we practise? Here in the car?’

  ‘We have time before the valet guy gets to us,’ Abby said, glancing at the line of cars waiting to be parked. ‘The queue is long enough.’

  But was Luke’s self-control strong enough? He hadn’t kissed a woman in five years. Not unless he counted his mother and sister but clearly a peck on the cheek wasn’t going to make the grade here. ‘You really think this is necessary?’

  She was already over his side of the car, her face so close to his he could feel her breath on his lips. ‘Kiss me, Luke.’

  Luke slid his hand along the curve of her cheek, his blood pumping so hard he could feel his erection pressing against his zip. He brought his mouth down to hers in a soft touch. Just brush her lips and get the hell out of there. He lifted off but her lips clung to his and something inside him gave way like tectonic plates shifting during an earthquake. He went back down again, breathing in the scent of her, relishing the fresh fruity taste of her. Her lips were soft and pillowy and tasted of strawberries or was it cherries? She made a little whimpering sound and opened to the stroke of his tongue, her tongue dancing with his, making his blood throb all the harder.

  He didn’t want the kiss to end. He could have kissed her all night. The feel of her lips against his, the flirty little flicker of her tongue made desire roar through his system like a rabid dog suddenly snapping its chain.

  He crushed her mouth beneath his, cupping the nape of her neck so he could deepen the kiss even further. Her hands came up to link around his neck, her soft sounds of approval making everything that was male in him vibrate with fierce longing. He hadn’t felt so turned on by a kiss in years. Possibly ever. Her soft mouth moulded itself to his, moving with and against his in a sexy rhythm that echoed the pulse and pound of his blood. Her perfume dazzled his senses, the luscious curves of her breasts pressed against his chest, sending a knockout blow to his self-control.

  The sound of people cat-calling outside the car was the only thing that pulled Luke out of the moment. That and the flash of paparazzi cameras that were as bright and blinding as summer lightning.

  Abby pulled back from him and gave a tremulous smile, her mouth slightly swollen, her cheeks flushed. ‘Wow. Who would’ve thought?’

  Right back at you, sweetheart. ‘Please tell me there isn’t going to be a picture of us kissing in tomorrow’s tabloids,’ Luke said.

  She did that cute little lip chew thing again and grimaced. ‘Sorry.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ABBY WAS STILL trying to get her senses back under control when Luke helped her out of the car. Her mouth was tingling and so were her girly bits. Not just tingling, but aching and throbbing. She’d been kissed in the past but nothing like that. Luke’s mouth had set fire to hers, making her lose all sense of time and place. But even more surprising...there hadn’t been any awkwardness between them. They had kissed as if they’d been doing it for years. As if their mouths instinctively knew what the other liked.

  The press surged closer and Luke put a protective arm around Abby’s waist. She smiled up at him, her heart almost coming to a standstill when he smiled back. His smile made his eyes come alive in a way she had never seen before. It made him look younger, more carefree, less serious and forbidding. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready.’ I think. ‘Welcome to the limelight.’

  The cameras were clicking so much it sounded like a round of military gunfire. And a journalist surged forward to thrust a recording device near Abby. ‘Everyone is dying to know who your Mr Perfect is. Will you introduce him to us?’

  Abby smiled at the journalist. ‘Sure—this is my fiancé Luke—’

  ‘Hey—aren’t you Luke Shelverton? From Shelverton Robotics?’ another male journalist asked. ‘You’re the guy who designed that amazing technology that’s revolutionised complex neurosurgery all around the world.’

  Luke accepted the accolade with an on-off smile that didn’t show his teeth. ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘When are you two planning to get married?’ the female journalist asked. ‘Will we be hearing wedding bells this summer?’

  Abby was still trying to think of something to say when Luke got in first. ‘We’re keeping the date a secret for privacy reasons,’ he said. />
  ‘Do you have any dating advice from a man’s perspective?’ the male journalist asked.

  ‘Just be yourself,’ Luke said and began to lead Abby towards the entrance of the hotel.

  But the first female journalist wasn’t finished. ‘What about some romance tips from London’s most romantic man?’

  Luke’s fingers tightened on Abby’s hand in an I’ll-get-you-for-this-later gesture but he looked the female journalist straight in the eye. ‘Look into her eyes when she’s talking to you. Listen to her.’

  ‘I’m going to use that in my next column,’ Abby said when they finally got away from the press. ‘Everyone is so busy on their phones these days no one ever looks at you when they’re talking to you.’

  ‘You owe me, young lady,’ Luke said in an undertone.

  Abby gave him a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry about that. But hey, I thought you did a brilliant job. You seriously could have your own column.’

  He gave her the side eye. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

  Abby was thinking about lots of stuff. Like how warm and strong his arm felt around her waist. How the slightest movement of his fingers against hers sent an erotic charge right through her body and straight to her core. How when his eyes held hers something unravelled deep in her belly, like a ball of string let loose down a steep staircase.

  And that kiss.

  She hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Her lips hadn’t stopped tingling from it. How could a mouth that never smiled pack such a passionate punch? Her mouth would never be the same. It was permanently branded with the heat of Luke’s kiss. Searing heat. Blistering heat. Heat that made her body shudder with excitement. She looked at his mouth and noticed a tiny smear from her shimmery lip-gloss was next to his top lip. She stepped up on tiptoe and lifted her hand and wiped it away. ‘Oops, lip-gloss. All gone now.’

  His eyes were as dark as sapphires, holding hers in a sensual lock as if he were mentally replaying every pulse-racing second of their kiss. His gaze went to her mouth, resting there for a thrumming beat before returning to her eyes. ‘Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘You look dazzlingly beautiful,’ Luke said. ‘There isn’t a man here who isn’t wishing he could swap places with me right now.’

  Abby knew he was only saying that because of the other guests close by. Of course, as her fiancé he would be expected to say nice things. Wonderful things. Things no one had ever told her before. He was acting a role and doing a damn fine job of it. But oh, how fabulous it would be if he really did mean them. When had anyone ever called her beautiful? She hadn’t even been called pretty or becoming. She hadn’t even been given the girl-next-door tag. She was bland. Unnoticeable. But how cool if he really thought her the most beautiful woman at the ball, just like Cinderella.

  You are seriously out of your mind.

  I know, I know. But he sounded so genuine.

  ‘Thank you.’ Abby smiled. ‘But I’m not sure if I’ll be able to eat anything while wearing this dress. My zip might not be able to take it.’

  ‘Abby!’ Felicity Kirby, her chief editor, came over in a cloud of exotic perfume and proceeded to air kiss Abby’s cheeks. ‘I’m literally gagging to meet your gorgeous Mr Perfect.’ She beamed up at Luke and thrust out her hand. ‘We would love to do an interview with you as soon as it can be arranged. Your work is absolutely amazing. I have a friend of a friend whose life was saved because of the tiny robotic surgical arm you designed for her brain surgery. I’ll get one of my staff to contact you. Abby will give me your details and we’ll—’

  ‘I don’t give interviews,’ Luke said.

  Felicity looked at him as if he’d just said he didn’t breathe oxygen. ‘But you must give an interview. Everyone wants to know about your romance with Abby. Like how on earth you kept your identity a secret for all this time. That in itself is worthy of a two-page spread. Now that we know who you are, we need to hear your side. You can do a guest blog with dating tips for the man about town. It’ll be fabulous.’

  ‘I’m sorry—I’m not interested.’

  Felicity was undaunted and swung her gaze to Abby. ‘Talk him into it, sweetie. He’s a reader magnet. And so hot!’ She fanned her face with her hand. ‘No wonder you’ve been hiding him away for all this time. I wouldn’t want to share him with anyone either.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Abby stretched her mouth into a smile.

  Once Felicity had moved on, Luke pressed a firm warm hand in Abby’s lower back, his low deep voice containing a thread of steel wrapped around every word. ‘Do I have to say it again?’

  ‘No. I heard you loud and clear.’ Abby gave a little eye roll. ‘No interviews.’

  He let out a gusty sigh. ‘I need a drink.’

  She grabbed his hand and led him towards a drinks waiter carrying a tray. ‘So do I.’

  * * *

  Luke stood with Abby a few minutes later with a glass of champagne in hand while she chatted to the other guests before the ballroom was opened for the main event. He put in a few words occasionally but he figured the less said the soonest mended. It was like being in a play but having read only half the script. Abby had told her readers things about ‘him’ that made him cringe. What sort of expert was he on romance? He had unwittingly sabotaged every relationship he’d ever been in and he had no intention of repeating those hard-learned mistakes.

  And as for giving interviews. Sheesh. Were these people for real? If they wanted to interview him about his work then fine. But his private life was off limits. He could talk about work at a stretch, but he usually left it to his staff to handle media interviews. He liked working in the background and getting on with the research and design that led to the breakthroughs in medical robotic engineering that had changed lives all over the world. That was what he was an expert at doing. Not swanning around a gala ball making banal conversation with people he had nothing in common with and never would.

  But it had to be said, Abby was looking smoking-hot tonight and he was quite enjoying the envious looks he was getting from the other men. He was also enjoying the way her body kept brushing up against his in the crowded foyer outside the ballroom. He kept his arm around her waist, and every now and again she would glance up and smile at him and something tightly closed in his chest would flick open.

  He could still taste her.

  The fruity sweet softness of her lips made him hungry for more. And, just like every other man present, he was having trouble keeping his eyes off her cleavage. Not that there wasn’t lots of cleavage on show from the other women at the ball, but somehow it was Abby’s that drew his eyes like a bee to highly prized pollen.

  ‘Let’s have a look at the silent auction while we wait,’ Abby said, leading him to a display where various items were on show. ‘You might find something you like.’

  The only thing Luke liked so far was the way Abby looked in that dress. He was all for a bit of fundraising and it was an excellent cause, but none of the items in the silent auction particularly interested him, although there were a couple of original artworks that caught his eye. He had more than enough wealth to buy whatever he wanted when he wanted it. He was happy to make a donation without collecting any of the goods.

  Abby seemed rather taken with one of the lucky door prizes that were also on show. She stood in front of the display of a week for two on a privately owned island in the Mediterranean with a wistful look on her face.

  ‘Gosh, wouldn’t this be great to win?’ she said, pointing to the photo of a white sandy beach and the luxury villa that overlooked it. ‘I’d love a week sunning myself on a private beach. Imagine being rich enough to own your own island!’

  Luke had often thought about buying an island—somewhere to escape to and leave all the worries and pressures of life behind. Somewhere where the guilt that plagued him wouldn’t follow. He’d even gone as far as looking at some online and taking a virtual tour. The thought of sand and surf and
solitude was seriously tempting.

  Almost as tempting as Abby.

  ‘Great place for a honeymoon, eh, Abby?’ one of the women from the magazine said on her way past.

  Abby smiled at the woman and then turned back to Luke. ‘You can win just by being here. How cool is that? There are stickers with numbers on them underneath all the chairs in the ballroom. The winning number will be announced at midnight.’

  ‘Who would you take with you if you won?’ Luke wasn’t sure why he asked but she was looking so longingly at the display he couldn’t stop himself in time.

  She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I won’t win. I’ve never won anything in my entire life.’

  The doors to the ballroom were finally opened and Abby gasped when the stunning decorations came into view. She clutched Luke’s hand in an excited can-you-believe-this? manner, reminding him of a small child at her first visit to a sweet shop. He had to admit the ballroom was nothing short of amazing. Garlands of fresh spring flowers adorned the room and taller arrangements were positioned either side of the stage, where a live band was playing the welcome theme. The tables were laid with crystal glasses and silver cutlery and there were even more flowers as centrepieces as well as colourful helium balloon trees.

  The formal dinner began, and after Luke had exhausted his limited dinner party conversation repertoire he was relieved when the band started playing just as the dessert course was being cleared away. He took Abby’s hand and stood. ‘Would you like to dance?’

  Her smile was like a ray of sunshine on a bleak winter’s day. ‘I’d love to.’ She rose from her chair and leaned close to his ear and whispered, ‘By the way, I told everyone you’re an absolutely brilliant dancer.’

  Of course you did. Luke mentally rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.’

  * * *

  Abby stepped on to the dance floor with Luke and his arms brought her in close to his body. One of his hands rested on her bare skin where the back of her dress was scooped out low on her spine. Her skin tingled and tightened and her breath all but stopped when his pelvis came into contact with hers, the unmistakable stirring of his body making her heart race as if she’d been running upstairs. Hundreds and hundreds of stairs.