by Julia James
As promised, he’d taken her to the upmarket shopping mall he’d mentioned, getting her to choose two more evening gowns, several sundresses, and a handful of ultra-brief bikinis and diaphanous wraps. She’d tried not to see the price tickets, for she knew she should not have let him buy such expensive things for her, but he had been insistent, and it had so obviously given him pleasure to do it.
So she’d squared her conscience by telling herself that she’d be wearing them for him, not for herself—that it would be to bring into his eyes that light of open appreciation that she so loved to see...the one that turned so swiftly to sensual desire.
She quivered with the little thrill that kicked in her pulse simply at the memory of how he could make her feel and how he made her respond. She gloried in it. It was like walking on air, floating in a haze of happiness. This was really happening to her; the man of her dreams was making her his own.
She all but skipped out of the shop, checking the time. Luke had left her to her own devices after they’d lunched at a beachfront restaurant, heading off for yet another meeting with architects and planning officials. But they were to meet for sundowner cocktails at a fashionable bar by the marina, and she quickened her step, for she still had more calls to make.
She was seeking out furniture, window treatments, bedding, and crockery—and then, if local suppliers didn’t prove possible, a couple of import-expert companies to handle bringing goods in from abroad, all of which would require precise costings and copious paperwork. But she would include it all in what she presented to Luke—and hope that it would convince him to use her designs.
Multiple calls kept her busy, and by the time she reached the cocktail bar at the end of the afternoon Luke was already in the open-air lounge, looking sinfully relaxed, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a ferocious-looking margarita in his hand. He wore even more ferociously expensive sunglasses that made her go weak at the knees.
‘Had fun?’ he enquired lazily.
‘Hugely!’ She laughed, sitting herself down and ordering a fruit-based rum cocktail from the immediately attentive waiter. She fished inside one of her carrier bags. ‘Do you want to see some of the materials I’m sampling?’ she asked.
Luke waved his glass in negation. ‘Not right now,’ he said casually.
He didn’t want to sound dismissive. She’d clearly had an enjoyable session—choosing colours and fabrics, or whatever it was she thought passed for work—but he didn’t want his time wasted over something hopelessly amateurish, and he couldn’t bear to have his infatuation with her diminished if she brought out tasteless designs. He wouldn’t be able to lie and smile and pretend it was good work. If what she was going to produce was anything like what she’d done for her father’s buildings then she had absolutely no eye for colour, style, or shape.
He’d eventually have to get around to hiring a professional designer and handing the work over to them to produce something suitable. However, he had no wish to hurt Talia’s feelings, so he softened his rejection by laughing gently.
‘And in return I promise not to tell you about how irritating I find planning officials!’ He took another mouthful of his margarita. ‘But from now on I’m leaving all that to the project manager I’ve appointed. He can cope with officialdom. Besides—’
He broke off. He’d been about to say that he wouldn’t be spending much more time here on the island. Buying the hotel site had been an impulse, catching at something deep within him. But his business life was conducted in the financial centres of the world. That was where he’d made the fortune he’d had to make in order to forge the weapon he’d needed to bring down his enemy.
His fingers clenched over the stem of his cocktail glass and forcibly he made them relax again. Grantham was destroyed. And everything the man had once possessed was now his.
His eyes skimmed over the woman at his side, sipping delicately from the multi-coloured cocktail she’d been served.
Everything he had is mine now. Even his daughter.
His eyes were shadowed behind his sunglasses. He would have given a great deal for Talia not to be Gerald Grantham’s daughter. His mouth tightened. But he would not blame her for what she could not help.
His eyes skimmed over her now. She was wearing one of the floaty, floral sundresses he’d bought for her that morning. It had been formidably expensive, though she hadn’t even glanced at the price tag. Of course for Gerald Grantham’s daughter price tags had never been of any concern.
But he would not blame her for that, either. It was what she was used to—of course she took it for granted. Why shouldn’t she? It was the habit of a lifetime.
But not one she can afford any longer.
Unless, of course, there was another man to provide it for her.
The thought hung in his mind, but he knew what must come next.
It is what she will want—what she will expect. And if I want her I have to accept that.
He raised his cocktail to his lips, taking another mouthful. What they had was worth it—oh, more than worth it. He must accept her as she was—as he had done when he hadn’t known she was Gerald Grantham’s daughter.
His eyes rested on her again and instinctively he took her hand, feeling her fingers press his in return, watching her mouth parting in a fond smile at his gesture. His gaze softened in automatic response. Tonight—this very night—he would make his feelings for her clear.
And what her answer would be he already knew.
She will never leave me again. Never.
The certainty warmed in his eyes and he meshed his fingers with hers, entwining them together, sure in his possession of this most irresistible of women. So very, very special.
And tonight I will show her just how special she is. I will show her exactly what she means to me...
It was a good feeling.
* * *
Slowly, with deliberate control, Luke let his fingertips trail down the valley between the ripe orbs of Talia’s lush breasts. His fingers splayed out across the slender softness of her body and then, with even more deliberate control, he slipped them between her thighs.
She gave a low moan of pleasure and he lowered his mouth to the crested peaks of her breasts, adoring each in turn as more moans came from her arching throat. His own arousal was complete, and he was ready—more than ready—for his possession of her. With the same absolute self-control he moved his body over hers.
Afterwards, as their heart rates slowed and their breathing eased in the exhausted torpor that had come to them, Luke settled her into the crook of his arm, feeling her body warm and drowsy against his, their limbs still tangled. Above them, the slow blades of the ceiling fan rotated lazily, cooling the ambient air, though not enough for him to need to reach for the coverlet which had slumped to the floor.
Lightly, his hand brushed the soft contours of her rounded hip, then trailed over her slender thigh. ‘Do you realise,’ he murmured, ‘that we’ve been here on the island nearly two weeks?’
Did he feel her tense suddenly? If he did, he was glad of it. It gave him reason to continue. His life had changed utterly since Talia had walked into his office, and he wanted to keep it that way. He could not—would not—lose her again.
He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead, smiling. ‘Tempting though it is, I can’t stay here lotus-eating for ever,’ he went on. ‘I’ve got to the point now where I can leave the restoration of the hotel to the experts I’ve appointed, and it’s time to pick up my life.’
He took a breath, his hand on her hip tightening slightly.
‘So what do you say to coming with me to Hong Kong? Then on to Shanghai? I’ve got various matters I have to see to there—business matters—but after that...’ his voice warmed ‘...maybe we could drop down to the South Seas and explore the islands there?’
He took another breath, and then he said what had been
burning in him for days.
‘I want you with me, Talia—wherever in the world I go. Will you come with me? Stay with me?’
He paused, levering himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. Waiting for her answer.
For a moment there was absolute silence. Then, with a cry, she flung her arms around him.
‘Yes! Oh, yes. Oh, Luke, yes! Yes, yes, yes!’
Her voice was full of a joy that blazed like the sun, and Luke’s heart felt suddenly whole for the first time he could remember.
* * *
Talia was floating on air. She was ten feet up, soaring with happiness. There were things she would have to sort out first—she knew that. Before she could take off for her very own personal paradise with Luke. But with Luke now committed to her she felt no apprehension about explaining to him about her poor mother, how she must ensure she was safely settled and secure in her future. Surely Luke would see that? Surely he would let her mother stay on in the Marbella villa for as long as she wanted, once she told him about her health condition?
She would take Luke to meet her when they were back from the Far East. Luke would reassure her, and she knew her mother would be overjoyed that her daughter had found love and happiness.
It’s the happily-ever-after that I’ve always longed for!
All day she continued floating on air, even though she saw little of Luke. He’d incarcerated himself in his office, telling her he had work to get on with, but he had said they would celebrate that evening, and asked her to confer with Julie and Fernando to lay on a suitable celebratory feast for dinner.
Talia didn’t mind that Luke was working, because she was, too. Gathering all the samples she’d collected the day before in the island’s capital, she settled down on her bedroom balcony to produce her colour board, happily humming away to herself as she did so, referring back to her sketches and annotating everything with the costing notes she’d made and the calculations she’d run.
She was kept busy all day on the internet, researching for furniture, window treatments, and bed linens, and all the other myriad requirements that would be needed, whittling them down to a shortlist before she printed out photos and added copious notes and yet more costings.
As the sun was setting they shared a late swim in the pool—Luke vigorously ploughing up and down, Talia contenting herself with some gentle breaststroke. Then she left Luke to it while she headed back upstairs to get ready for the evening ahead.
She all but floated up the stairs. And back down again, some two hours later.
She had dressed with exceptional care, her heart beating fit to burst, and knew that she looked as beautiful as it was possible for her to look.
Julie, emerging from the kitchens, clapped her hands, and Fernando smiled benignly and ushered her through to the terrace, where Luke was waiting for her.
For a moment he did not speak, and then he came up to her, reaching for her hands. ‘How can you be so beautiful?’ he breathed, his eyes warm upon her, lighting up her face, her eyes, her smile, like the moon and the stars.
She was wearing another of the new gowns he’d bought for her the day before, this one more formal than the one she’d worn the previous evening. It was in pale blue silk, with a very fine plissé texture, and it cupped her breasts almost like a strapless bikini top, then fell in graceful folds to her ankles.
He himself was in a tux, but he had slung his jacket and tie over a chair in the close warmth of the evening. He looked elegant, roguish, and—Talia gave a little gulp of sheer attraction—unbearably gorgeous...
He handed her to her seat at the table, which had been beautifully set by Julie, with scented flowers rioting all over, candles sheltered by glass containers, crystal and silver sparkling in their light. Beside the table champagne nestled in ice on a stand, already opened and smoking gently.
Luke hefted the bottle out, filled their glasses.
‘To us,’ he said. His gaze was lambent, rich with expression.
* * *
Much later, Talia rested her cheek against Luke’s bare chest. Her heart rate was easing, her breathing slowing. Yet her whole body was still glowing, flushed with the aftermath of her physical ecstasy.
How can it be so incredible? Every time!
Wonder still filled her at what Luke could arouse in her—an explosion not just of the most intense pleasure possible, but of an intense joy that flowered in her heart.
She felt her soul soar, turning over and over in ecstasy.
I love him so much. How can I love him so much?
She did not know—only knew that she did. And that giving herself to him with all that she possessed, with all that she was, had transformed her life utterly and completely.
Did he love her?
The question was there—she had faced it, accepted she could have no answer yet. Perhaps he did, but did not yet realise it? Or perhaps he was still growing towards it? Letting it steal upon him as it had for her?
But he would come to love her—of that she was certain. Men took longer to realise their emotions—she knew that...everyone knew that. It was common knowledge. They told of their emotions in deeds, not words. And with everything Luke did, and the way he was with her, he demonstrated just how precious she was to him. After all, he’d asked her to travel with him, to stay with him...
She gave a sigh of happiness, wrapping her arm around his strong, lean waist. How gorgeous he was...how unutterably gorgeous. And how impossible it was, she thought, to be anything except blissfully, wonderfully happy! She and Luke were together. Building a life together—always together!
Nothing can part us now. Nothing.
The certainty of it filled her as she nestled into him, glowing with radiant happiness and love, revelling in the warmth of his arm around her back, folding her to him, and knowing with every fibre of her being how absolutely perfect her happiness was. And how she gloried in it!
She gave another sigh of bliss and pure, perfect happiness, then felt his arm move and reach out past her; heard the noise of his bedside table drawer sliding open. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt Luke shift position, drawing back so that he was half propped against the pillows. She raised her head to meet his gaze, which was drawing down towards her in the soft light from the lamp.
‘I have something for you,’ he said, and his smile was warm, his eyes warmer still.
He lifted the box he’d taken from the drawer, flicking it open with his hand.
Talia gasped. She couldn’t help it. Catching the lamplight, the ruby bracelet glittered with a crimson fire that seemed to burst from the heart of each precious gem.
‘For you,’ said Luke. A half-smile tugged at his mouth. ‘I would have given it to you at dinner, but it would not have matched that blue gown. But now...’ his mouth dipped to graze her shoulder ‘...it will suit you perfectly. Just as you are.’
He lifted her hand, took the bracelet from its velvet case and draped it around her slender wrist, fastening it.
‘It fits you perfectly,’ he said. He smiled again. ‘I had it delivered this afternoon. It’s the one from the hotel that you so admired. It’s yours. Yours to keep.’
He kissed her mouth, sealing his gift to her. Then he eased her body back against his. Her hand lay on his chest, glittering with the bracelet’s fiery gems. They seemed to glow against her skin.
The bracelet had been expensive—overpriced, he knew—but then it was priced for a hotel concession, and the impulse buys that men like him would be likely to make when on holiday with a woman they desired and cherished. He hadn’t cared about the mark-up—only wanted to bestow upon the woman he was going to take with him now wherever he went something she had shown she desired. To show her that he wanted to give her what she desired.
He heard her speak, and expected to hear an expression of delight. But it was not.
‘Why...why hav
e you given this to me?’
There was a note of incomprehension in her voice. Of doubt. He kissed her again. He wanted only to experience the joy of giving her something that showed her how precious she was to him.
‘To make you beautiful for me!’ he said lightly.
Then, knowing it was time to say more, he looked down at her, cupping her face with his hand. His voice would be serious now. He had to say what needed to be said—what had to be acknowledged if they were to continue together now.
‘Talia, I know how difficult it has been for you since your world crashed about you. Losing your father...’ His voice held an edge. ‘I think we both know he isn’t coming back. And even if he did—’ that edge was harder now ‘—he would be penniless. No use to you at all. But whether or not he ever does show up again, nothing can take away how hugely traumatic this time has been for you. I understand that.’
He took a breath, knowing it was time to confront the unspoken truths that lay heavy between them. If they were to make a life together they had to be addressed and dealt with so they could move on together.
‘You went from wealth to poverty overnight—the kind of poverty you were never equipped to deal with. You are the daughter of a very wealthy man, who doted on you and spoiled you, and I understand that the life you have been reduced to now is unimaginable for you. All your life you’ve been sheltered, as only the daughter of a rich man can be. And I know and I understand—truly I do, Talia—that your situation is something you find incredibly hard to accept. I want you to know that I don’t blame you for that. You are not responsible for your upbringing, nor for taking for granted the way of life your father’s wealth allowed you to have. It would be harsh of me—unfair of me—to judge you for that. You can’t help being the way you are, for being what you are—a rich man’s daughter who has had everything provided for her all her life. A life of luxury and ease. It’s no wonder you don’t understand how brutal and tough the world can be.’