by Kate Hardy
‘Fine. I’ll type up a new evaluation tonight and get it over to you. Okay?’ It wouldn’t take long—especially if he could get the original report e-mailed over from head office. But work responsibilities could wait until later. First he had plans. Like finding out just how strokeable Dr Lucinda Myles really was under those clothes. Because of course she’d gone on to get her PhD. The woman was born for academia.
‘That’d be great,’ Seb said.
He sounded tired, and Ben could imagine him sitting behind Dad’s big oak desk, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Because now it wasn’t years and schools keeping them apart, it was the burden of responsibility.
Working together, especially since their father had died, had enabled Ben to get to know his brother better than ever before. They were close, he supposed, in their way. Possibly because neither of them really had anyone else.
And Seb was his brother before he was his boss. He had to remember that.
A stab of guilt at the thought made Ben ask, ‘Is there anything else you need me to do?’
The pause at the other end of the line suggested that there was, but whatever it was Seb obviously didn’t trust him to do it. ‘Nah, don’t worry about it. Enjoy your week in Chester. Take in a Roman relic or something. Or—no, you were planning on heading off to your cottage, weren’t you?’
‘I thought I might,’ Ben said cautiously. God, after the last twelve months all he wanted was to hole up in the middle of nowhere with a good bottle of whisky, some really great music and some old movies. ‘But if you need me back in the office—’
‘No. You haven’t had a holiday in nearly a year.’ Since before Dad died, went unspoken. ‘You deserve a break.’
Not as much as Seb did. The idea of persuading his ultra-responsible older brother to take time off was frankly laughable, but apparently Ben wasn’t nearly as essential to the well-being of Hampton & Sons. Something he might as well take advantage of, he supposed. ‘Well, you know where I am if you need me.’
‘In bed with a hot blonde?’ his brother joked, a hint of the old, relaxed Seb coming out.
Relief seeped through Ben at the sound of it. ‘Brunette, hopefully.’ Ben eyed Luce again. Still ignoring him. If she remembered him at all she probably felt exactly the same way about him as his father had—that he was still the same man she’d known him to be at twenty, incapable of growing up. Well, maybe he’d have a chance tonight to show her exactly what sort of man he’d grown into.
Seb’s laugh lacked any real humour. ‘Then I wish you luck. I’m sure you’ll have her begging you for more in no time.’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘And then you’ll just have to figure out how to get rid of her when she inevitably loses her head over you.’
Quite aside from the fact that Ben found it impossible to imagine Lucinda Myles losing her head over anyone, something in Seb’s words rankled.
‘Hey, be fair. I’m always honest with them. They know exactly what to expect. No commitment, no strings, no future, and—’
‘No more than one night together in a row,’ Seb finished for him. ‘I know. But they always think they’ll be the one to change you.’
Ben shrugged, even though Seb couldn’t see him. ‘Not my responsibility. I don’t do long-term.’
‘Just the short-term fix.’ Seb chuckled. ‘Well, if that’s all you want enjoy yourself. I’ll see you back in London on Friday.’ He hung up.
Ben put his brother’s mocking out of his head. As if Seb was any better, anyway. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen him with a date.
Life was all about priorities, their father had always said. And just because Ben had never shared David Hampton’s priorities when he was alive, and didn’t intend to start now, that didn’t make the sentiment any less valid.
His priorities weren’t love and marriage. And his priority for the night certainly wasn’t Seb and the business. It was Luce Myles. Grabbing two gin and tonics from the bartender, Ben was pretty sure he knew exactly how to get under her skin.
* * *
Luce’s ‘To Do’ list was stretching to several pages by the time Ben finally returned with their drinks.
‘Queue at the bar?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows as he placed the glasses on the table. A girl couldn’t be expected to deal with so many demands on her without a drink.
‘Phone call from the office,’ he countered with an apologetic smile.
She supposed that running a hotel chain did require some level of responsibility, hard though it was to imagine from Ben Hampton. On the other hand, he had described it as the ‘Hampton & Sons’ chain, so maybe he was just the heir apparent, running errands for Daddy, and the phone call was about him maxing out his company credit card. That would explain a lot, actually.
He folded himself into the low bucket chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and Luce allowed herself to be distracted from how the man made a living. A more interesting question was how did he manage to look so comfortable, so relaxed, in a chair so clearly not designed for someone of his height or size? Luce couldn’t manage it, and the chair might have been made for her.
‘You look like you kept yourself occupied, anyway.’ He motioned at her list, and she winced.
‘Busy week. Time of the year.’ She started to close the cover of her organiser, but Ben’s hand slipped between the pages and pushed it open again.
‘Let’s see what’s keeping Dr Lucinda Myles so busy.’
Tugging the diary towards him, he flashed her a grin that made her middle glow a little, against her better judgement. She didn’t remember him being this damn attractive. His behaviour was unacceptably intrusive, an invasion of her privacy, and her ‘To Do’ list was absolutely none of his business. And yet she didn’t stop him. All because he had a wickedly attractive smile. Clearly she was losing her edge.
I need some time off. The thought was a familiar one, but Luce knew from past experience that nothing would come of it. Yes, some time to recharge her batteries—hell, even some time to focus on her book—would be beneficial. But when on earth would she ever find the time to make it happen?
Ben flipped through the list and gave a low whistle. ‘Conference, followed by what I imagine to be a long and tedious conference report, family dinner party on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day entertaining, house repairs, cat-sitting for your neighbour, university New Year’s Eve event, student evaluations, your actual day job. When were you planning on sleeping?’
‘I wasn’t.’ Luce took a long sip of her gin and tonic. ‘Especially since I still don’t have a bed for the night.’
‘I believe I offered you a solution to that particular problem.’ Ben slammed her organiser shut, but kept his hand on it. ‘In fact, after seeing your “To Do” list, I have an even better proposition.’
‘So you are propositioning me, then?’ Luce said, trying to sound accusing rather than amused. Or aroused. This was unacceptable behaviour—especially from the owner of a hotel. And she was not the sort of woman who had one-night stands in hotels just to get a bed for the night. However attractive the man. But part of her couldn’t help wondering if he’d be doing this if he didn’t remember her. Or, perhaps more likely, he’d never be doing this at all if he knew who she really was. Which is it?
Ben just smiled a lazy, seductive grin. ‘Were you ever really in any doubt? Now, do you want to hear this proposition or not?’
She shouldn’t. But her curious nature was what had led her into academia, into history, in the first place. She wanted to know what had happened, when and why. She couldn’t help but remember all those long, dull evenings staying in to study, until Ben and Mandy stumbled into the flat, ready to tell her everything she’d missed, their eyes pitying. She needed to know what it was Ben Hampton saw in her now to make him waste his time trying to s
educe her. ‘Go on, then.’
‘Take the night off.’
Luce blinked. ‘That’s it?’
Folding his arms behind his head, Ben smirked. ‘It’s elegant in its simplicity.’
‘It’s not possible.’ Luce reached for her organiser, shaking her head. ‘I need to type up my notes from today, I need to talk to my brother about this dinner, and I need to—’
‘You need to slow down.’ Peeling her fingers from the cover of her diary, Ben picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.
Luce lunged across the table to try to grab it, but she was too slow. ‘I need that. You can’t just—’
‘Trust me, it’s for the best.’ Luce glared at him, and he sighed. ‘Okay—tell you what. You listen to the rest of my plan, and if you honestly don’t think it sounds like a good idea I’ll give you your stupid planner back and you can go wander the streets of Chester looking for a hotel. All right?’
Even Luce had to admit that her options were a little limited. ‘All right. What’s the plan?’
‘A night off. With me. You put on your best party dress, let me take you out to dinner. You talk about yourself—not the things you’re supposed to be doing. You let me take responsibility for showing you a good time. You relax. We have a nightcap in my suite, and then you get a good night’s sleep.’
‘In my own room?’ Luce stamped down on the corner of her mind that was happily imagining what might happen if they were both in his room.
Ben’s smile grew a little wolfish. ‘Well, now...that’s up to you.’
‘Really?’ Luce said flatly.
‘Of course.’ Ben looked mildly offended. ‘I’m not saying I won’t give it my best shot. You’re a beautiful woman, and I enjoy the company of beautiful women. But at the end of the night you get the choice of my bed or the spare room. Either way you have a bed for the night.’
Luce found her gaze caught on his. He thought she was beautiful? Ben Hampton actually wanted her? Sober, all grown-up, not obviously crazy...and he wanted her. She could have dinner with him, flirt, kiss...more. All she had to do was say yes.
She tore her gaze away.
‘And tomorrow?’ she asked.
Ben’s smile slipped. ‘Tomorrow I’m leaving town. Look, whichever way tonight goes, it’s nothing sordid. Nothing to be ashamed of. We can enjoy each other’s company then go our separate ways. I’m not asking you for anything beyond tonight.’
‘So romantic,’ Luce muttered. She hated how unworldly he made her feel. His matter-of-fact proposition of a one-night stand was miles away from any date she’d been on in the last ten years. And also the reason she couldn’t give in to it. She wanted more from a night of passion than a kiss on the cheek at the end of it and never seeing each other again.
‘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 an
d 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.
