by Sam Crescent
She had caved in and had said Lucas could stay with her overnight. Instead of finding a hotel, he was to have the spare bedroom, and if things turned out all right, he might stay for as long as he was needed on the project.
Amal pulled into her driveway. As the overhead security light was triggered, she parked the car to the right of the path and wondered if she’d left room for Lucas to squeeze in beside her. She had. His BMW ground to a smooth halt alongside.
Lucas climbed from the car. “Nice place.”
Amal knew he was being polite. It was too dark to see the house properly. But it was a beautiful building, and when the sun shone and the rolling waves could be seen crashing onto the beach, she realized it was the best place in the world to be.
“Welcome.” Amal slammed her car door shut. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you your room.”
She’d never done this before. She’d never had a lodger, and she’d certainly never let a stranger into her home with the intention of sleeping under the same roof as him. Living with Kelvin had been different. She’d known her boyfriend for months before they’d moved in together. And if sharing with Kelvin had been a mistake … goodness knew what problems were awaiting her with Lucas.
Lucas opened the trunk of his car, and lifting out a large holdall, he dropped it to the ground beside his feet and reached in for another.
“Here, I’ll help you unload if you like,” Amal offered.
“It’s all right. I’m fine.” He wedged the straps of the two holdalls on his shoulders and in his arms was a box full of rolls of paper and files.
“You sure?”
“I can manage the bags.” Lucas shifted his weight to balance his load. “Besides, I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself. These are a bit on the heavy side.”
She hated it when men treated her like a fragile princess. She was neither fragile nor a princess.
“And I thought men were supposed to travel light,” she said.
“We do. But if you’re wondering what’s in the holdalls, it’s mostly test parts for the ventilators. Now, if you could lock the car for me, that would be great. The key’s in my pocket.”
“In this neighborhood, we don’t usually lock anything,” she told him. “Your car will be safe. I doubt anyone with bad intentions will come calling tonight.”
“But I’d still like it locked. Although the car’s rented and insured, I’d hate for anything to happen to it. The extra hassle of police and insurance reports I can do without. Right-hand pocket, please.”
Amal shrugged and went to do as he asked. It was his car, his decision, and his responsibility.
She reached out and delved into his right-hand pocket.
“Wrong pocket. It’s the right-hand trouser pocket.” The box he was holding nearly fell from his arms. “Shall I put these things down and do it myself?”
“No … I can manage,” she said.
But could she?
Taking a deep breath, Amal slipped her hand into the warmth of his trouser pocket and grabbed what she hoped was the leather key pouch and key. Her fingers wrapped around something soft and warm and as they did so, the overhead light on a short-timer switched off. The driveway was plunged into darkness.
Amal stood beside Lucas, her hand deep inside his pocket. The action was intimate. Private. In the shadows of the night, she was invading his personal space, and he didn’t seem to mind.
“You got it?” he asked.
“Well… I’ve got something.”
She withdrew her hand, and holding up the key pouch, she showed him.
“If you would be a good girl and lock the car…”
A good girl! She’d like to be anything but good. Her thoughts had been racing, and they hadn’t been sweet and innocent.
She stepped away from Lucas and her movement triggered the overhead light switch. The driveway was flooded with light, and she hoped he couldn’t see her embarrassment.
As he made a move toward the front door of the house, she stopped him.
“If you don’t mind, we’ll go around the back of the building, and I’ll let you in through the kitchen.”
“Lead on,” he said.
Skirting around the side of the house, they reached the back door, and Amal, having opened the door, felt along the wall for the light switch. She flicked the switch and a light above an island worktop cast a soft glow over the room.
Amal pointed to a kitchen table against a wall. “If you want to leave your things over there, for now, we can take them upstairs when you’re ready.”
Lucas made it to the kitchen table and dumped the box he was holding onto it. The bags then slid from his shoulders to the tiled floor with a soft thud.
“Perhaps I ought to have taken you up on your offer of help.” He stretched his arms, and turning his head from side to side, he flexed the muscles of his neck.
“Have you broken anything?” she asked.
“The holdalls and contents are padded.”
“I didn’t mean the bags. I meant you.” She smiled.
Amal walked around the kitchen and hastily tucked a few things away into cupboards and drawers. She cleared the dirty cereal bowl and cup she’d left on the island that morning and placed them into the sink. Before leaving for work, she’d had breakfast, but she’d been in too much of a hurry to tidy the house behind her.
Lucas looked around. “Are you sure your boyfriend won’t mind you bringing home a lodger?”
Amal was surprised by the question.
“What makes you think I have a boyfriend and not a husband?”
Lucas pointed to her left hand. “No wedding ring,” he answered.
“No … thank goodness!”
She didn’t have a boyfriend or a husband in her life. And if she did, she was sure he would have little say in the way she lived. She was her own woman and made her own decisions.
“I take it you’re not keen on having a man about the place.”
“Oh, I don’t dislike men,” she said. “I’m just not keen on having serious relationships with them. Once bitten…”
Lucas rubbed the day’s growth of stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps you were too young to take the plunge,” he taunted.
“Or perhaps I’m old enough to know what I need … from a mature man.”
There was an awkward silence as Lucas appeared to be thinking about the message behind her words.
“What now?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t want to get in the way of your usual routine. And it’s not as if you were expecting me to come home with you. What do you usually do when you get back from work? Should I make myself scarce for five minutes?”
It was February, and although the harsh, winter months had come and gone, spring hadn’t yet arrived. The house felt chilled. Amal pressed the button on the heating control panel and looked at the clock. It had gone seven.
“I’ll get supper started and then I’ll show you to your room. How does that sound?” she asked.
“Whatever suits you.” Lucas shrugged off his overcoat and looked for somewhere to leave it.
“There’s a coat stand in the hall. It’s through there.” Amal pointed in the direction of a doorway. “The downstairs loo is to the left. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right with you.”
With Lucas out the way, Amal quickly set about preparing a meal. She’d only just managed to gather a few emergency ingredients from the store cupboard and freezer when Lucas returned.
“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” he asked.
His coat and suit jacket were gone, and he was busy rolling up his shirt sleeves.
Amal sighed. She wasn’t used to someone invading her space.
For two years, since moving out of the apartment she’d shared with Kelvin, there had been no one in her life. She’d lived alone, ate alone, and slept alone. Of course, her sister, Tanvi, had come to stay for the occasional weekend visits, but that was different. Tanvi was family and Lucas was a stranger. What had sh
e let herself in for?
“Thanks, I can manage.” Amal turned on the oven. “There’s a TV in the other room. If you’d like to—”
“Here, let me help.” Lucas came up behind her and reached around to get a knife from the kitchen utensil block. “Shall I peel the potatoes or the vegetables?”
Together, they worked in silence, and soon, the makings of supper had been prepared. They were having the two frozen meat pies Amal had taken from the freezer and a few fresh vegetables, followed by a couple of ready-made puddings. Nothing fancy, but then, she hadn’t expected to be cooking a three-course, fine-dining meal that evening.
Usually, after a long day at work, she made do with a shop-bought ready-meal or a simple bowl of soup.
“I’ll put the pies in the oven to bake, and we can steam the veg when we get back.”
“Back from where?”
“The bedroom.”
“The bedroom?” Lucas raised a brow and winked.
Amal’s heart flipped. She hadn’t meant her words to sound suggestive, but they were. And the thought of her and Lucas, together in a bedroom, had stirred her imagination … and obviously his.
All she had to do was look into the depth of his eyes and her pulse rate soared. She was lost in an X-rated sexual fantasy, and that was unnerving. But what if, like her, Lucas felt the same pull of attraction?
Amal gave herself a mental shake. The idea he could be attracted to her was absurd. They hardly knew one another. And besides, she was twenty-five, and he was … well, he was too old for her. Surely, she couldn’t spark his interest?
The silver streaks gleaming in his hair and the deep grooves of laughter lines around his eyes hinted of an age difference that would be bordering on taboo. He was mature and she was foolish to hope for a relationship. The idea Lucas could fancy her in that way was crazy.
“Yes, the spare bedroom where you are to sleep. That is, if you don’t want to change your mind,” she said.
“Oh, no. That’s not an option. In fact, I’m very happy with what I’ve seen … so far.”
But Lucas wasn’t viewing the room. He was looking pointedly in her direction.
With a sideways glance at him, she led the way upstairs, and when they reached the landing on the second floor, they turned right into a bedroom.
Lucas allowed the holdall he was carrying to fall onto the chest at the foot of the bed.
“The bathroom is across the landing,” Amal explained. “There’s a shower and a tub, so feel free to use whichever you prefer.”
“I’m a shower man.”
She smiled. “And at night, I like a long soak in the tub.” Amal had no idea why she’d offered that information. It was none of his business. But unknowingly, an image of them naked in the bathroom had sprung to mind, and a hot wave of embarrassment washed over her.
****
Lucas watched as Amal left the room to collect sheets from the airing cupboard on the landing. While she was gone, he looked around. The room was large and clean, but the bed had yet to be made.
“Sorry,” Amal said, upon returning. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to stay. It will only take me a minute to make the bed. The sheets and duvet are clean, but if you’d like a blanket instead—”
“No. Don’t trouble yourself. A duvet is fine. It’s what I’m used to.”
Amal unfolded the fresh linen sheets and spread them over the king-sized mattress. As he helped her, together, they lifted the edges of the mattress, and when she bent to tuck the enveloped corners neatly beneath the padded memory foam, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts.
A few buttons on her blouse had come undone. The neckline was low, and an ample amount of cleavage was showing. He could see the swell of her rounded breasts and their ripeness was waiting to be cupped and kissed.
Delightful, he thought.
The full curve of her hips, the shape of her slender legs, and the red plumpness of her lips were all crying out to be explored. And he wanted to be the explorer to conquer these feminine offerings.
It had been a long time since Lucas had felt such passionate urges toward a woman. In fact, not since his wife had died. He had kept himself buried in his work, and meaningful relationships had been a thing of the past. Of course, there had been affairs and one-night stands, but they had meant nothing. He was a rich and handsome full-blooded male. He had needs and desires and could have his pick of any woman he set his sights on.
The women he’d dated and bedded had known the score. He hadn’t been looking for love … just carnal satisfaction and sexual release.
With the quilted duvet thrown on top the bed and the pillows fluffed, it was ready to be slept in. The bed looked inviting, and he was tempted to stretch out and fall asleep, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to unpack … and then there was dinner to get through.
He’d had a long day. The flight from Paris, followed by a heavy session in the conference room, and a few hours going over the blueprints with Charles and Amal had all taken their toll. He was tired and longed to relax. And if Amal had opened her arms and offered him a warm, welcoming haven to bury himself in, he wouldn’t have refused.
“Dinner,” he said. And together, they went downstairs.
Chapter Three
The new pressure taps had been three weeks in the making, and Amal and Lucas sat side by side at a workbench in the lab, examining the valves for faults.
“Your English is very good. Where did you study?” Amal asked.
She removed more bubble-wrap packaging from yet another of the delivered boxes. A series of valves had been made in various shapes and sizes, and Lucas was testing each valve for compression and stability.
“My English?” Lucas asked.
He put the component he was holding into a marked container and selected another part to look at. Amal realized he wasn’t listening to her or the radio, with its background noise of interviews and book discussions. His mind was on the job at hand.
“Except when you swear, you’ve hardly an accent.”
“And when do I swear?” He smiled.
Lucas swore all the time. She’d heard more bon sangs than she cared to count, especially if things weren’t going his way.
Lucas turned a valve between his fingers. He was handling the object with care, and as her thoughts drifted, she wondered how his fingers would feel if they were to touch her body with such detailed attention.
“You swear when you’re tired and exhausted … and in need of feeding,” she said.
In the past four weeks, she’d come to learn at least that much about him.
Lucas was easy-going, although a strict taskmaster. He expected his team to work hard, but he also realized there were limits to someone’s skill and ability. He asked a lot from his staff, but not the impossible … and for that, he was respected.
In the outside world, away from the secure confines of the laboratory, the government was demanding results and had upped the ante. The pressure for the company to produce a safe product was on, and Amal knew Lucas felt the burden of responsibility.
Every evening, when they left the building and drove back to her home, she saw him physically relax, as if the troubles of his world had fallen away. When they made supper, or zoned out in the lounge, reading or watching TV, it was as if he was a different person.
Lucas looked up and laughed. “My mother is English, and my father was a true Frenchman. Growing up, we had no choice. Mama insisted we spoke both languages. Mainly because she thought our English heritage was important. She’s elderly, and still loves England and everything it’s supposed to stand for, although she hasn’t lived there for years. So … you see, we had to learn.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. My sister, Mia, now lives in New Zealand with her family. She moved there a few years ago and seems happy enough.”
“And you? Are you … happy?”
Lucas turned in his seat at looked at her. “Do you know why you always amaze me?” he asked.
>
She shook her head, confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I’ve just told you my mother’s elderly, and you haven’t questioned me on my age. How diplomatic you are, Amal. Most women would have wanted to know.” Lucas left the high lab stool and stood beside her. “But, enough about me. I think it’s time we go downstairs and test these things, don’t you?”
Amal took the hint. The subject was to be changed. But she couldn’t resist. “Well, how old are you?”
Then, with slow deliberation, Lucas reached past her for the box containing the samples. As he did so, his arm brushed against her white lab coat. The pressure on her breasts was so slight that she didn’t know if his action had been a careless gesture or a provocative dare. And then, when their eyes met, she knew.
His action had been calculated. Lucas was coming on to her.
****
Amal was behind the steering wheel, and with Lucas in the passenger seat beside her, she drove at a steady speed along the coastal road, heading toward Dune View.
Within days of him moving into her home, it had been decided it was silly for Lucas to keep the BMW rental when they could both get to work using her car. And when the hired car had been returned to the rental firm, that had been all right with her.
“Do you want to stop off and get something to eat before we reach Dune View?” Lucas asked.
The car windows were rolled down, allowing the cool coastal air to hit them. Her hair was in total disarray, but with work left behind and the pressures of the job forgotten, she felt exhilarated and full of life as the miles sped past.
The testing of the ventilation valves had been left for the morning.
Amal and Lucas had already put in more hours than was normal, and not wishing to make stupid errors in their haste for a positive result, they had decided an early start in the morning was their best option.
“You mean … go to a restaurant … or are you thinking a takeaway?”
“I’m thinking takeaway. With the government guidelines and tighter social restrictions in place, I think a takeaway at home would be our best option. Don’t you?”
Amal liked the way he said at home. And he was right. It would be better if they avoided crowds. Cases of positive virus infection and the mortality rates were soaring. She didn’t want to be included on those lists.