Harlequin Romance September 2013 Bundle: Bound by a BabyIn the Line of DutyPatchwork Family in the OutbackStranded with the Tycoon

by Kate Hardy

  The car jerked to a halt and Luce rubbed at her collarbone where the seatbelt dug in.

  ‘We’re here.’ Ben threw open the door and jumped out into the snow, as if any amount of cold were better than being stuck in the car with her.

  He was still mad about her suspicions, then. And, yes, okay—rationally she knew he probably hadn’t intended this to happen and couldn’t actually control the snow.

  But it was still all a little too convenient and willpower-testing for her liking.

  Unfastening her seatbelt, Luce followed, stepping gingerly into the soft piles of snow and wishing she’d packed more practical boots. Peering through the snow, she followed Ben’s tracks up what she presumed must be a path under all the white and saw, at last, Ben’s cottage.

  Luce wasn’t sure what she’d expected, exactly. Maybe a collection of holiday chalets attached to a hotel. Or an ostentatious, look-how-rich-I-am manor house sort of thing that could only be called a cottage ironically. Whatever it was, it wasn’t this. An actual, honest-to-God stone cottage in the hills.

  It was perfect.

  ‘Come on,’ Ben said, and she realised the front door was open. ‘If you freeze to death you’ll never forgive me.’

  ‘True,’ Luce said, and hurried in after him.

  With the door closed fast behind them, the wild winds and swirling snow seemed suddenly miles away. It wasn’t hot in the cottage, by any means, but it was warm at least. Ben turned his attention immediately to the stone fireplace that dominated the lounge, stacking sticks and paper with practised ease.

  Luce stared around her, taking in the unexpected surroundings. It certainly wasn’t the sort of space she’d imagined Ben feeling comfortable in. Yes, it had a modern open-plan layout, but there were none of the bright white surfaces and stainless-steel accessories she’d expected, even after seeing the rustic outlook of the place. Instead the large main room was decorated in earthy colours—warming, welcoming reds and browns and greens. The battered leather sofas had tawny throw blankets and cushions on them—perfect for curling up in front of the fire. And the sheepskin rug before the fireplace made even the grey stone floor more warming.

  Not Ben. Not at all.

  ‘When did you buy this place?’ she asked, stripping off her coat and scarf and hanging them over the back of a kitchen chair before removing her boots.

  ‘A couple of years ago. I wanted somewhere separate. Somewhere that was mine.’

  Luce thought she could understand that. Of course she encouraged her family to treat her house as theirs, but technically it belonged to her. That mattered.

  ‘Did you get someone in to decorate?’ Because this was the perfect rustic-cottage look. The sort of thing that either happened naturally or cost thousands via an interior designer. She didn’t see Ben as the naturally rustic type.

  ‘I did it,’ Ben said, without looking up from the tiny flame he was coaxing.

  Luce tried to hide her surprise. ‘Well, it’s gorgeous,’ she said after a moment. Because it was—even more so, somehow, now she knew it was his own work. It wasn’t beautiful, or tasteful, or on trend. It was warm and cosy and she loved it.

  As the fire caught Ben flashed her a smile—the first she’d seen since they left Chester.

  ‘So glad you approve.’

  In that moment the cottage itself ceased to be the most attractive thing in the vicinity. Luce swallowed, looked away and said, ‘Um...so, how long do you think we’ll be stuck here?’

  Standing up, Ben straightened, brushing his hands off on his jeans. ‘Until the snow stops, at least. Don’t think we’ll be going anywhere until tomorrow.’

  Tomorrow. Which meant spending another night in close proximity to Ben Hampton. Another night of not throwing caution to the wind and saying, Seduce me. Just to find out, after eight years of wondering, what it would be like.

  The look he gave her suggested that he’d read her mind—but imperfectly. ‘Don’t fret. There’s a spare room. It even has a key to lock it from the inside, if you’re still worried that this is some great master plan to get into your knickers.’

  Heat flushed in Luce’s cheeks. She should probably apologise for that at some point. But since he was the one who’d point-blank propositioned her the night before maybe sorry could wait. Besides, just as the night before, she was more concerned that she’d need the lock to keep herself in, rather than him out.

  Not thinking about it.

  ‘What do we do until then?’ she asked.

  Ben shrugged. ‘Up to you. Work, if you like. Personally, I’m going to make myself an Irish coffee and warm up by the fire. Then, once this snow slows down, I’m going to walk down into the village and see if the Eight Bells is serving dinner. I’d invite you to join me, but I’d hate for you to get the wrong idea about my intentions.’

  ‘I do still need to eat,’ Luce pointed out. ‘And besides, Hampton & Sons have once again failed to make good on their promise—I was supposed to be in Cardiff by now. The way I figure it, you owe me another dinner.’

  Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Seems to me that you relying on me for a bed for the night—without, I might add, any of the activities that usually make such a thing worthwhile—is becoming a bit of a habit. So, is that dinner instead of a night’s free accommodation in a charmingly rustic cottage?’

  Luce considered. ‘Maybe we could go halves on dinner?’

  ‘Good plan.’ Ben moved into the kitchen area and pulled a bag of coffee from the cupboard. ‘So, do you want the grand tour?’

  Luce spun round to smile at him and nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Right, then.’ Waving an arm expansively around the living, dining and kitchen space, he said, ‘This is the main room. Bathroom’s over there. That’s my room. That’s yours.’ He pointed at the relevant doors in turn. ‘Back door leads out to the mountain. Front door leads to the car and a lot of snow. That’s about it. Now, how Irish do you want your coffee?’

  She should take advantage of the afternoon to work, really. But her laptop was still in the car, and she was cold and tired and stuck with Ben Hampton for another night. She deserved a warming drink and a sit by the fire, didn’t she?

  Luce perched on a kitchen stool and watched him fill the coffee maker. ‘Make sure it’s at least got a decent accent.’

  Ben grinned at her. ‘Will do.’

  * * *

  Ben had been more concerned with getting in and getting warm than studying Luce’s expression when they arrived at the cottage. But now, watching her sink into the sofa, coffee in hand and feet stretched out towards the fire, he smiled to see her looking so at home there.

  It wasn’t an impressive cottage. He knew that. None of the homes in a ten-mile radius had more than three bedrooms; anything bigger would have been ostentatious. Ben wanted to fit in here. So when he’d bought the tumbledown stone building he hadn’t extended it, just rebuilt it as it would have been. And it wasn’t the most expensive of his properties—not by a long stretch. But it was his favourite. Not least because it was the only one that was really his. Bought with his own money, chosen by himself, decorated by himself. The penthouse in London, impressive as it was, belonged to the company and had been decorated by their interior designer. And the château... That still had his grandmother’s favourite rose print wallpaper all over it. He really needed to get out there and start sorting that place out.

  But not now. This was his week off. His week of relaxation in his favourite place. Albeit with an unexpected, suspicious and snappish guest, and the prospect of a round trip to Cardiff in the snow tomorrow.

  Sipping his own coffee, Ben let the warmth of the cottage flood his bones, relax his muscles, the way it always did when he came home.

  Home. Luce had asked him where it was and he’d said he didn’t have one. He hadn’t explained that he did
n’t want one. He’d had a home once, only to lose it when his father’s obsession with work drove his mother away.

  He didn’t need a home that could be taken from him. He just needed a bolthole to hide out and recharge. Could be anywhere. Right now it just happened to be here, that was all.

  I need to spend more time here.

  Once he’d deposited Luce home he’d come back and look at his work schedule for the next twelve months. Figure out where there might be a break long enough to get back to Wales again. Maybe even over to France.

  Luce drained her coffee and said, ‘So, this pub you mentioned?’

  ‘The Eight Bells. Best pint and best pies this side of the border.’ They’d missed lunch in the snow. She was probably as starving as he was.

  ‘Sounds promising,’ Luce said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  Ben decided to put her out of her misery. ‘And, for you townies, there’s a pretty decent wine list, too.’

  ‘Oh, thank God.’ Her face brightened.

  Ben chuckled. ‘Less than a day with me and you’re already desperate for a drink? What? The coffee not Irish enough for you?’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Luce said. ‘But after this day I’m ready for a hearty meal and a large glass of wine.’

  Ben enjoyed one more moment of warmth by the fire, then got to his feet. ‘In that case, I guess we’d better prepare to face the elements again. You ready?’

  Luce grinned and took his hand to let him pull her up. ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AFTER A SNOWY, freezing and downright treacherous walk into the village, Luce stamped the snow off her boots, unwound her scarf and let Ben go and find menus and drinks while she settled into a chair at the rustic wood table by an inglenook fireplace. The Eight Bells was certainly a lot nicer than she’d expected in a local village pub, but then, she supposed they were in the heart of tourist Wales around here. Made sense to cater to the townies.

  Not that there were many of them around tonight. Only a handful of tables were occupied, and those were by locals discussing the weather and when the roads would be cleared.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised that Ben would find a cottage near fine dining and local shops that delivered organic produce, she supposed. That was just who he was. How had she forgotten that?

  It was the cottage, she decided. It was so homely. Somewhere she could imagine actually living herself. Nothing like the fancy hotel he’d been living in when she and Mandy had visited from university. Not even anything like the suite at the Royal Court in Chester. And yet it was his. Maybe there were nuances to Ben Hampton she was missing after all.

  ‘Check out the pie list.’ Ben dropped a couple of menus on the table, then placed a glass of white wine in front of her. Wrapping her fingers round the stem, she took a long sip. Ben was right; this place had really good wine.

  ‘You recommend the pies, then?’ she asked, scanning the menu.

  ‘I recommend everything on the menu.’ He wasn’t even looking at it, she realised.

  ‘You come here often?’

  ‘As often as I can.’ He sipped his pint. ‘The owner’s an old friend of mine.’

  That was one constant. Ben had always had a lot of friends around. When Mandy had started dating him Luce had assumed that his hangers-on were after his money, or the parties he could get them into. But over time it had become clear that they genuinely enjoyed his company. Ben was one of those people with a talent for making people like him.

  Not a talent Luce had ever claimed to possess.

  ‘I’ll try the chicken pie, then,’ she said, closing the menu. Ben nodded, and went to place their order. Watching him go, Luce studied the width of his shoulders, the confidence of his stride. Apart from a little extra muscle and size, how much had he really changed in the last eight years? Was he still the same boy who had kissed her in the hotel library?

  Would he try again?

  He was back before she had anything approaching an answer to that question.

  ‘So,’ he said, settling himself into his chair with practised ease, ‘Old Joe over there tells me the snow should be over for now, but we might get another load tomorrow night. Hopefully the roads will be clear enough tomorrow to make a break for Cardiff before it hits. A few of the locals plan to take the tractors out in the morning and clear them.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Getting home tomorrow would still give her a day and a half to work, at the least.

  ‘Until then I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. So, in the meantime, I believe this is the part where we make small talk. What topic do you want? Politics? Religion?’

  ‘Tell me what you’ve been doing since university.’ He looked surprised, so she added, ‘I bored you about Nest last night. Now it’s your turn.’

  She needed to know where he’d been, what he’d done, so she could understand who he was now. For some reason it seemed vitally important that she make sense of him before they headed back to the cottage and their separate beds. Luce very carefully ignored the small part of her brain that murmured, And if I understand him, if I know him, I’ll know if it’s safe to ask him to kiss me tonight.

  But Ben just shrugged and said, ‘Pretty much as expected. Graduated and went to work for the family business...’

  ‘It seems to be doing well enough.’

  His smile was a trifle smug. ‘Doubled the profits in my first five years. On track to triple them in the next two.’

  That Ben was familiar. The one who thought money was the most important thing in the world. ‘Your father must be very proud,’ she said, thinking of the stern grey-haired man she’d met that one fateful day she’d spent in Ben’s world. She didn’t mean it to sound so dry, so sarcastic, but it came out that way regardless.

  ‘He died about a year ago.’ Ben’s eyes were on his glass rather than her as he spoke, and a sharp spike of sympathy pierced Luce’s chest.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She knew how that felt. That hole—the space where a person should be. Trying to find a way to live without someone who’d defined you all your life.

  But Ben rolled his shoulders back and gave her a strange half-smile. ‘I wouldn’t be. To be honest, I’ve barely noticed the difference. Just means that now it’s my brother Seb checking up on my methods instead.’

  There he was. The boy who’d had so little regard for the things that mattered—family, friends, responsibility, doing the right thing—had grown up exactly as she’d expected. Into a man who still had no respect for the things that mattered to her. A man she couldn’t consider sleeping with even if she was sure it would be magnificent. And a sure way to find that relaxation he promised.

  Except there was something in his eyes. Something else. ‘You must miss him, though?’

  ‘He wasn’t really the sort of father you missed.’

  She wanted to ask more, to try to understand how his father’s death could have had so little impact on him. But before she could find the right question the waitress brought their food and Ben had switched the conversation to pies and homemade chips.

  In fact, Luce realised as she tucked into her truly delicious meal, he seemed almost too keen to keep the conversation light and inconsequential. As he started another story about a hotel somewhere in Scotland that had served compulsory haggis to its guests for breakfast every Sunday Luce smiled politely, nodded in the right places and tried to think of a way to get him to open up. He was hiding something, she was sure, and her incurable curiosity was determined to find out what it was before she had to return to Cardiff.

  ‘Let’s have another drink before we head home,’ she suggested, when he paused in regaling her with his tales.

  Home. Oh, God, she’d just called the cottage ‘home’. If ever anything was guaranteed to send a man running in the opposite direction, lay
ing claim to his house as your own before you’d even really been on a proper date was probably it. But Ben hadn’t flinched or reacted. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe Luce really could be that lucky.

  ‘Sure. But I warn you now: I’m not carrying you back in that snow.’

  ‘I think I can manage.’

  Ben studied her carefully, as if he suspected an ulterior motive, but at least he didn’t seem terrified at her presumption. Luce tried not to shift under his gaze and pretended very hard that she’d said nothing of consequence at all.

  ‘Okay, then.’ Ben got to his feet. ‘You have a look at the pudding menu while I get the drinks.’

  Now, that was a mission Luce could get stuck into. Then all she had to do was figure out a way to get Ben to open up to her.

  * * *

  Ben rested his weight against the bar, waiting for their drinks, and watched Luce from the corner of his eye. Not that she’d notice. She seemed completely absorbed by the dessert menu, and he wondered if she’d go for the chocolate mousse or the sticky toffee pudding. She didn’t seem like a fruit salad girl. It was one of the things he liked about her.

  That was a surprise in itself. The Lucinda he’d known so many years ago hadn’t been someone you liked. She hadn’t let anyone close enough to find out any of her likable qualities. Locked up in her room studying, running off to the library or covering the tiny kitchen table in the flat with papers and textbooks. That was how he remembered her. The way she’d always run off to her room when he and Mandy had arrived home. Apart from a few hastily eaten dinners together, when Mandy insisted on them ‘getting to know each other’, that was all he’d known of her. He’d never been able to understand how someone as outgoing and fun-loving as Mandy could even be friends with her. Hadn’t believed her when she’d said that Luce could be fun sometimes.

  He could see it now, though. She was the sort of woman who grew into herself. Her confidence and self-possession had let her beauty, humour and personality shine out at last. And she’d grown into her body, too. Had she grown into her sexuality in the same way?