‘What the hell is this nonsense about you being manager?’ Luke demanded the moment the door had closed on Margaret.
‘How much experience of running a hotel do you have, Luke?’ Lucia challenged. ‘Exactly,’ she said when a muscle in his jaw worked. ‘You’ve got more money than Croesus, as well as endless experience in the international business arena, but I have the hands-on experience—which began around the time Nacho asked me if I could organise a polo supper for him. I think I was about fourteen at the time. Plus, I fully understand that you need to be sure your investment in the Sundowner is safe, but let neither of us fool ourselves. I know this place is a means to an end for you. You want to reinstate Polo on the Beach and the Sundowner Guest House is in the perfect position: perfect stables, perfect access to the beach—’
‘You seem to have it all worked out,’ Luke growled tensely.
‘Let’s just say I’m not the child you seem to think I am. Shall we start the tour?’
‘It seems I don’t have much option but to go along with this for now, as Margaret has already appointed you.’
‘Not so much of the “for now”,’ she warned. ‘I fully expect to be fired if I fall short in any way. But the one thing I don’t need is for you to prop me up.’
‘You’d just like to spend my money?’ Luke suggested coolly.
‘Margaret appreciates your investment,’ Lucia countered pleasantly. ‘Shall we?’ she suggested.
Luke’s eyes flashed a warning signal that clearly stated it was game on. ‘After you,’ he bit out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
*Fans self … * Hot momma, this man might not be mine but I cannot—will not—think about anyone else making a move on him. I might be damaged goods, but I’m still capable of admiring a fine ass. And in the unlikely event that Luke ever made a serious move on me I can rest assured that it could never come to anything because he’d soon realise that when it comes to sex I’m a complete non-starter. So when he finally settles down I shall just have to go on retreat to Outer Mongolia and never come back …
FOR the sake of maintaining a professional front she blanked Luke, huge and powerful, dwarfing her completely as he stayed close at her side as they went up the stairs. Luke in snug-fitting jeans—a little frayed, a little ripped, a little pale and worn in places. She refused to notice that too. Inviting him to go ahead of her at one point, she surveyed the tight hips and muscular thighs—purely out of clinical interest, of course. Just as she’d thought. He was bigger than her brothers. And that heavy Aran sweater did look great with Luke’s swarthy skin, his hunky build and brooding amber gaze.
And there it ended, Lucia told herself firmly. Luke Forster would be the first to admit that he believed women existed to be protected, rather than to stick their heads above the parapet and invade a man’s world. Women were far better seen and not heard—preferably in the bedroom, she imagined, remembering the blonde.
‘You’re being uncommonly accommodating, Lucia,’ Luke commented as she led the way down the landing.
‘I’d like to show you the attic room,’ she replied in a businesslike tone, careful to maintain distance between them.
‘I’m all attention,’ Luke said, moving close enough for their hands to brush.
She led him into the huge room that took up much of the top of the house. It had the most spectacular view through picture windows of the endless beach and the sea beyond. Margaret had always dreamed of turning it into a residents’ lounge and library. Lucia explained this to Luke. The room was still full of ladders and decorating equipment, but she threaded her way through all the tackle until she reached the windows where they could look out over a beach the colour of rich Jersey cream and the wild Cornish sea beyond, which had turned from angry pewter to smooth, crystalline blue.
‘What do you think?’
‘Apart from the shock of discovering Margaret has appointed you manager of the Sundowner, do you mean?’ Luke enquired, hitting her with a curve ball.
‘I imagine you could override that if you wanted to,’ she said, returning to the subject at hand. ‘So, what do you think?’
‘You know what I think,’ Luke growled. ‘I love this place. But to turn it into an exclusive venue for international polo players who are used to the best will be a complex project.’
‘And you don’t think I’m up to it?’
‘You’re not exactly tried and tested.’
Wasn’t that the truth? And now she must stick to the subject at hand. ‘I’m not an amateur, either,’ she said. ‘I may not have your facility for figures and keeping ten thousand plates spinning at once, but I do know how to run a hotel—and from the bottom up. I can stand in for any job you care to name.’
Except for one, he thought, remembering the concierge.
‘And if anyone knows how to cater for demanding polo players,’ she pointed out, ‘it’s me.’
He couldn’t argue with that. ‘So, how do you feel about us working together, Lucia?’
‘How do you feel about it?’ she countered.
As if it was going to be difficult to concentrate, he concluded, feeling his groin tighten as Lucia continued to stare at him. This was not the girl from the beach, or from the wedding. This was a woman who had been through a lot since he’d last really known her, and who had gained in strength because of it. It made Lucia a better fit with the job, and made his life a lot more interesting.
‘Can you cope with my being your boss?’
Her eyes flared and then she relaxed, seeing his eyes smiling into hers. ‘So long as I don’t have to bow and scrape,’ she said.
‘I’ll put a clause in your contract to that effect,’ he offered dryly. ‘So …?’
‘So Margaret is thrilled by your investment,’ she said carefully. ‘Just so long as you understand that my life isn’t on the agenda, Luke. I refuse to live my life by committee a moment longer.’
‘I think I’ve gathered that.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if that’s it …? I hope you like the changes I’m making.’
‘Why don’t I take a look?’ he said.
It soon became apparent that Lucia had touched things with fairy dust. Even on Margaret’s limited budget the old house was already being brought up to scratch, with hours of work having been put in—by Lucia, he imagined. There were quirky touches only she could have dreamed up—driftwood from the beach arranged to look like a piece of art on a high ledge, where it cast intriguing shadows on the pale chalky walls, and bleached wooden chairs upholstered in faded blue ticking inviting relaxation in a tranquil reading room, where the only ornament was a bowl of fresh flowers set in the centre of a vast refectory table on which newspapers could be laid out flat, or books studied in the natural light of the panoramic window framing the shore.
He paused at the window to stare out at a sky rapidly changing from daytime shades of smoky-blue to a cloak of night, streaked with red-gold.
‘Luke?’
He turned to see Lucia standing waiting for him in the doorway. ‘You’re a real homemaker, Lucia.’
‘There’s no need to sound so surprised,’ she said, smiling. ‘Anyway, if you want to linger and soak up the view I just thought I should let you know I’m going out.’
‘Okay.’ He ground his jaw as he listened to her footsteps fading. She couldn’t spare five more minutes to talk to him? And where was she going? he wondered as the front door opened.
To the beach.
He might have known. He watched until her shadow had disappeared down the cliff path and then pulled away from the window.
She was endlessly fascinated by the busy little creatures darting about the rock pool so purposefully in their unknowable lives. Hugging herself, she leaned her chin on her knees to watch them.
‘Lucia …’
She glanced around, even though she knew her mother couldn’t be calling her. Demelza Acosta was long dead, so she could hardly be running across the beach towards Lucia, trailing one of those big stra
w hats she’d used to love, her long red hair blowing wild and free in the fickle Cornish breeze. But if Lucia closed her eyes she could almost see her mother—barefoot and laughing, calling out as she came closer for Lucia to run with her. She’d be wearing one of those dresses that were totally unsuitable for the beach. It would be long and flowing, with a dainty flower print, and would keep catching round her mother’s legs. Her mother would laugh all the more as she struggled to free herself, and when she finally made it to the rock pool she would grab hold of Lucia’s hand and take her running, which often meant dodging the boys on their horses. Her mother had loved that game. She’d said tempting fate was exciting.
The dream ended abruptly, because Lucia hated giving in to weakness. She preferred to laugh and make jokes.
‘Lucia?’
She glanced up in surprise to find Luke watching her. ‘I didn’t hear you. The wind,’ she explained briskly, knuckling her eyes.
‘Sorry if I’m intruding,’ he said, shifting position. ‘I just wanted to find you and say what a wonderful job you’ve been doing at the guest house.’
‘I’m glad you approve,’ she said, putting on her flippant voice. She felt vulnerable and exposed after her emotional workout. She braced herself and stood to face Luke.
‘You’re not going yet, are you?’ he said as she glanced at the cliff path.
‘It’s getting cold.’
‘Have I done something to upset you?’ Luke probed.
‘Oh, you know,’ she said, reverting to the old mocking tone.
‘No, I don’t know,’ Luke said, frowning. ‘I’d like you to explain. What are you running away from, Lucia?’
She drew in a fast breath as Luke took hold of her arm. ‘Nothing,’ she said edgily. ‘I just want to go back.’
Luke lifted his hands away. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘If you’ve come looking for the past, you won’t find it here,’ she blurted out. ‘Sorry.’ She tried a laugh that didn’t quite work. ‘Don’t know where that came from,’ she added in a jokey voice, pulling a face.
He did. ‘I always come to the beach when I want to recapture those feelings from years back. There’s nothing wrong with that, Lucia—’
‘I tried it,’ she interrupted. ‘And it doesn’t work for me. I’ve looked for the past here, but I can’t find it.’
As emotion welled behind her eyes she stared away to sea. Lucia couldn’t see her handsome Argentinian father and her Cornish mother laughing together as they strolled along the beach as she had hoped, he guessed. All she had found in St Oswalds was a rundown guest house and an old lady battling to keep things afloat without any real hope of doing so. But he’d seen real prospects for change here, and found it hard to believe Lucia couldn’t see how large a part she played in that. Her confidence must have taken a real kicking. And now he knew why and how. He just had to be sure he got the timing to voice his concerns and got the healing absolutely right.
‘The worst thing of all,’ she said, distracting him, ‘was that until you came along I couldn’t see how I could help.’
‘You’ve already helped Margaret with your friendship and with your company, as well as your hard work. And we’re not finished yet,’ he assured her.
‘It’s all words, Luke.’
‘No, it’s not,’ he argued. ‘Let me prove it to you?’
‘What do you mean?’ she said, staring at him suspiciously, but there was just the ghost of remembered humour in her eyes and that was enough for him.
‘Okay, here’s the challenge,’ he said. ‘If I don’t make you laugh and remember the good times we used to have on this beach I’ll give you a wage-rise. How about that?’
‘I haven’t even fixed a wage with you yet,’ she pointed out.
‘So I’ve got nothing to lose.’
‘You are totally shameless,’ she protested.
Maybe he was, but she hadn’t said no, and to see that smile still playing round her lips was enough for him.
‘Luke, what are you doing?’ Luke was kicking off his boots. ‘Are you completely mad?’ she demanded as he started unzipping his jeans. ‘You can’t be thinking of swimming in the sea. It’s freezing! You are mad,’ she concluded, backing away from the latest massive roller.
‘Chicken?’ Luke shouted back.
‘Certainly not.’ Well, maybe a little, she conceded as Luke started on his boxers.
She clutched the back of her head as Luke casually stripped them off. ‘Luke, you can’t do that! What if someone sees you?’
‘You mean there are more people as mad as us?’
Swimming off a freezing cold beach at night? Hmm …
It wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before …
Oh, what the hell!
She was probably going to land herself with the most graphic erotic dream yet, but chicken she was not, Lucia concluded as Luke plunged into the sea. And, yes, he was tanned all over.
Shaking his head like an angry wolf, Luke roared back at her over the crash of surf, ‘I thought you said we were equal, Lucia? Looks to me like I’m the superior being after all.’
Firming her jaw, she yelled, ‘Turn your back.’
‘You speak and I obey.’
‘I wish,’ Lucia muttered, tugging off her clothes.
She raced into the sea, shrieking and wailing as a wall of ice-cold water hit her. ‘You didn’t turn around,’ she complained, regaining her feet. ‘That shows blatant disregard of the rules.’
As if Luke cared. He was standing taking lazy inventory, with his massive fists planted on his taut naked hips. The only thing she had to be grateful about was the fact that the sea at night provided them both with a modesty curtain. He dodged the spray as she shrieked a war cry and launched herself at him.
‘Two can play at that game,’ Luke confirmed.
Unfortunately it was yet another game at which Luke excelled.
‘Okay, I give up,’ she conceded, raising her hands in the air. ‘You win!’ she exclaimed, her voice shaking with tension as Luke towered over her.
‘Do I?’ he said, taking a firm grip of her arms. ‘What’s my prize?’
If she could draw breath to speak she might come up with something, but with the entire length of Luke’s hot, magnificent body pressed up against hers it was hard to think, let alone speak.
‘Warm now?’ he murmured, dragging her closer still.
There was too much information bombarding her brain for her to spare breath for an answer. But feeling more of Luke than was safe, she pulled away.
‘You still don’t trust me?’
Her answer was to place her hands flat against his chest in an involuntary defensive action.
‘Dry yourself, Lucia. Get dressed and then we’ll talk,’ Luke said crisply as he turned to stalk back through the waves to the shore. Having snatched up his jeans and stepped into them, he strode away in the direction of the guest house. ‘You were right about this place,’ he called back. ‘There’s nothing here but sea and rock and sand.’
‘Luke, wait.’ Tying her shirt in a knot around her waist and wearing her jeans like a shawl, she chased after him. Managing finally to catch up, she grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Don’t let me spoil things for you. I was in a dark place tonight—it’s nothing, just a phase.’
‘Take care it doesn’t become a way of life,’ he said, shaking her off.
Luke was frighteningly right with that remark, Lucia realised, gritting her teeth as she ran after him. ‘Margaret’s out late with her friend, the farmer from across the road,’ she explained, skipping backwards as she spoke. She was desperate for a return to normality between them. How would she work with Luke otherwise?
‘So?’ he demanded, still striding on, refusing to look at her.
It was a relief when he walked past the car. ‘So come to the house,’ she said. ‘Take a shower—put some dry clothes on. We can have something hot to drink. We’ll soon warm up.’
He stopped so abruptly she almost can
noned into him. ‘How long are you going to pretend that this is all about whether you’re cold or I’m cold, or if there are ghosts on the beach, Lucia? You must know I had to find out what happened in London. You must know I couldn’t leave it without knowing what you were running away from.’
She flinched at his choice of words. ‘What are you saying?’ Ice washed through her. She couldn’t read Luke’s expression. She only knew he was saying horribly hurtful things she had been doing her best to avoid—true things—events she couldn’t face any more than she could face the cold expression in Luke’s eyes.
‘I’m saying that I found out for myself what you didn’t trust me enough to tell me, Lucia.’
‘Luke—’
‘I’ll make a bargain with you, and my bargain is this,’ he said, speaking over her. ‘We talk about the past. We don’t hide things from each other. And you don’t hide your tears from me. Stop,’ he added grimly when she tried to protest. ‘I don’t want to hear your jokes or your excuses. What happened to you in London is too serious for that.’
‘I know. I told the police.’
‘So you told the police but you couldn’t tell me?’
‘I told them as soon as Margaret told me you were in London, but I guess you got there first.’
‘I guess I did,’ Luke agreed. ‘What, Lucia?’ he demanded fiercely, grabbing hold of her. ‘How could you imagine I would think any less of you because of what happened in London? I only wish you’d told me.’
‘I …’ She couldn’t find the words as she stared up into Luke’s complex expression. There was anger in his eyes—hurt too—but most of all there was the strength she should have remembered was always there.
‘Those were great days on this beach, Lucia. There’s no shame in remembering them with laughter, and even with tears. I don’t see how either of us can come here without feeling something, and I don’t want you to shut me out. The past belongs to both of us. Can’t you see that?’
She heaved a great shuddering breath, knowing she must find the strength to tell Luke exactly what had happened in London. He was right that the past had to be faced up to and dealt with.
The Man From her Wayward Past Page 11
