‘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 seduce 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 and 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.
‘Mandy’s out there flirting with a forty-something businessman she knows will never leave his wife but might buy her some nice jewellery.’
Luce had winced. He was probably right. For a moment she’d felt her first ever pang of sympathy for Ben Hampton.
But then he’d leant in further, his hand coming up to rest against her cheek, and Luce had known she should pull away, run away, get away from Ben Hampton for good.
His lips had been soft, gentle against hers, she remembered. But only for a brief moment. One insane lapse in judgement. Before she jerked back, leaving him bent over the space where she’d been. She’d upped and run—just as she should have done the moment she’d arrived at the party and seen how much she didn’t fit in.
Luce sighed and let the memory go. Much more pleasant to focus on the hot water and scented bubbles of her bath than on Ben’s face as she’d turned back at the doorway. Or the humiliation she’d felt, her cheeks burning, as she’d run out, his laughter echoing in her ears, and dragged Mandy away from her businessman and back to that flea-ridden hotel.
He probably didn’t remember. He’d been drunk and young and stupid. He’d certainly never have done it sober. Why else would he have laughed? The whole incident was ridiculous. Luce was a grown woman now, with bigger concerns than what Ben Hampton thought of her.
Except he was waiting outside the bathroom door, ready to take her out for dinner. And afterwards...
Luce shut her eyes and dunked her head under the water.
* * *
What the hell was she doing in there?
Ben checked his watch, then poured himself another glass of champagne. It was coming up to three quarters of an hour since he’d heard the lock turn, and since then there had been only the occasional splash. Apparently she was taking the whole relaxing thing seriously. He should have remembered earlier how his ex-girlfriend had complained about Luce disappearing into the bathroom with her history texts and using up all the hot water on ridiculously indulgent baths. At the time he’d just found it comforting to know that the woman had some weaknesses. Now it was seriously holding up his evening.
But at least it gave him the opportunity to do some research. Unlocking the safe, he pulled out Luce’s organiser again and sank into the armchair by the window to read. Really, the woman was the epitome of over-scheduled. And almost none of the things written into the tiny diary spaces in neat block capitals seemed like things she’d be doing for herself. Christmas dinners—plural—for family, attending lectures for colleagues, looking after someone else’s cat... And then, on a Sunday near the end of January, the words ‘BOOK DRAFT DEADLINE’ in red capitals. Interesting. Definitely something to talk about over dinner.
She baffled him. That was why he wanted to know more. On the one hand, he was pretty sure he could predict her entire life story leading from university to here. On the other, however...there was something else there. Something he hadn’t seen or noticed when they were younger. Something that hooked him in even if he wasn’t ready to admit why. Yes, she was attractive. That on its own was nothing new. But this self-sacrificing mentality—was it a martyr complex? A bullying mother? Luce hadn’t ever seemed weak, so why was she doing everything for other people?
Particularly her family, it seemed. Flicking through the pages, Ben tried to remember if he’d ever met them at university, but if he had they hadn’t made much of an impression. Now he thought about it, he did remember Luce disappearing home to Cardiff every few weeks to visit them.
Obviously a sign of things to come.
Leaning back in his chair, Ben closed the organiser and tried to resist the memories pressing against his brain. But they were too strong. Another dark-haired woman, just as tired, just as self-sacrificing—until the day she broke.
‘I’m sorry, Benji,’ she’d said. ‘Mummy has to go.’
And it didn’t matter that he’d tried everything, done anything he could think of to be good enough to make her stay. He hadn’t been able to fix things for her.
Maybe he could for Luce.
Laughing at himself, he sat up, shaking the memories away. Luce wasn’t his mother. She wasn’t tied by marriage or children. She could make her own choices far more freely. And what could he do in one night, anyway? Other than help her relax. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe all she needed was to realise that she had needs, too. And Ben was very good at assessing women’s needs.
A repetitive beeping noise interrupted his thoughts, and it took him a m
oment to register it as a ringtone. As he looked up, his gaze caught on Luce’s rich purple coat, slung across the sofa on the other side of the glass coffee table. She’d taken her suitcase and handbag into the bathroom with her—obvious paranoia in Ben’s view—but he’d seen her drop her phone into her coat pocket before they left the bar.
Interesting.
He should feel guilty, he supposed, but really it was all for the woman’s own good. She needed saving from herself. She needed his help.
The noise had stopped before he could retrieve the phone from the pocket of her coat, and Ben stared at the flashing screen for a moment, wondering how one woman could have so many people needing to contact her. In addition to a missed call from her mother, her notifications screen told him straight off that she had three texts from a guy called Tom, an e-mail from a man named Dennis and another missed call from an improbably named ‘Dolly’. All in the hour since they’d left the bar.
Scanning over the snippets on the screen told him all he really needed to know—every person who’d contacted her wanted something from her. Dropping the phone back into her pocket, Ben considered the evening ahead.
His plan, ill thought out to start with, had been to have a fun evening and hopefully a fun night. To show Luce a good time, then remind her who he was so they could have a laugh about it. Or he could, anyway. But now...he was invested.
Who was Lucinda Myles these days?
The last time he’d seen her must have been the night of his spectacularly disastrous twenty-first birthday party. He remembered spotting her sloping out of the hotel ballroom towards one of the drawing rooms, but after that far too much champagne had blurred the evening until the following morning and a headbangingly loud lecture from his father about appropriate behaviour and responsibility to the family reputation. Friends had helpfully filled him in on the more humorous of his antics that night, but no one had mentioned Luce.
Then the ex had broken up with him for humiliating her and ‘possibly ruining her future’, whatever that meant, and he’d had no reason to see Luce again. Who knew how much she’d changed in the intervening years?
Stranded with the Tycoon (Mills & Boon Cherish) Page 3