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 didn’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, laying 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?
It bothered him how much he wanted to find out.
And now the weather had given him the perfect chance to do just that. It might not have been a plan in the way Luce had accused him, but it certainly was an opportunity to take advantage of.
One night in a secluded cottage was even more perfect than one night in a luxury hotel. As long as it was just one night and the snow didn’t strand them there any longer. Two nights in a row and women started to get ideas, Ben had found. Which was why he’d committed to his one-night rule.
And Luce was up to something; that much was clear. Given another glass of wine, he was pretty sure he could figure out what, and how it might affect his seduction plans.
The barmaid handed over their drinks and Ben took them with a wide, friendly smile before heading back to Luce. He had hopes for what was going on here, and if he was right the evening could be set for a much better ending than he’d dared to assume the night before.
‘So, what are you fancying?’ Ben put the drinks down on the table and tried not to smirk when Luce looked up, eyes wide and face flustered.
‘Um...’ Her gaze flicked back down to the menu. ‘The sticky toffee pudding?’
‘Good choice.’ Dropping into his chair, Ben reached his arms out across the back and felt his muscles stretch. ‘Tracy says she’ll be over to take our order in a moment.’
‘Great.’ Placing the menu back on the table, Luce folded her hands over it.
Ben braced himself for whatever line of questioning was coming next.
‘So, what do you do when you’re not working?’
To his horror, Ben actually had to think about an answer. When had he become so obsessed with work? That was Seb and Dad. Not him.
‘Oh, you know. The usual. Fine dining. Trips abroad.’ That sounded obnoxious. She already thought he was obnoxious. He really shouldn’t make it any worse. ‘I have a château in France—well, my grandmother did. She left it to me. I’m renovating it.’ Or he should be. He would be. As soon as he found the time.
Luce raised her eyebrows and Ben cast his gaze over to the bar to see where the hell Tracy the barmaid had got to.
‘You’re interested in property development? First the cottage, now the château?’
‘Yes,’ Ben lied. It had nothing to do with making money. He’d done up the cottage so he had somewhere to escape to. And he wanted to do the château because...well, he couldn’t just leave it there to crumble, now, could he?
‘So what’s next?’ Luce asked, then glanced up and said, ‘Oh, the sticky toffee pudding for me, please.’
It took Ben a moment to catch up, to realise that Tracy was standing patiently behind him with her notebook. ‘Same for me, please.’ He gave her a smile and watched her walk back to the bar. Maybe Luce would get cross enough at him paying attention to another woman that she’d stop asking questions he didn’t want to answer.
No such luck.
‘So?’ she repeated. ‘What comes after the château?’
‘No idea,’ Ben said with a shrug. ‘You know me—I’m a take-one-day-at-a-time kind of guy.’
Except he wasn’t any more. Not really. He couldn’t be—not when Seb was relying on him so much these days. He knew exactly what would be next. More visits to more hotels. More reports on what was working and what wasn’t. Long, long meetings with Seb and his team about where the company was going. More spot inspections on longstanding members of the Hampton & Sons chain. More firing old managers and putting in their own people. More budget meetings where the accountants told them they should get the hotels to improve drastically without giving them any money to do it.
Business was business, after all.
‘Still?’ Luce asked. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. People don’t really change at heart, do they?’
Ben looked at her, sipping her wine across the table, her gaze too knowing, and for once he wanted to tell someone the truth. That sometimes he was sick of all the rules he’d set for himself. That sometimes he did want to stop. To stay in one place for a while.
Downing the rest of his pint, he said, ‘I need another drink,’ and headed to the bar before the urge became too strong.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BEN RETURNED WITH another pint for himself and another glass of wine for Luce. She hadn’t drunk more than half of the glass she already had, but she accepted it gracefully anyway. She had a feeling that he wasn’t so much trying to get her drunk to take advantage of her, more to distract her.
Clearly he’d never experienced the Myles curiosity
in full flow before.
‘So, you left university, joined the family business, and you’re still there?’ She tipped her head sideways to look at him. ‘So either you really have changed a little bit, or there’s something about your job you truly love. Because the Ben Hampton I knew couldn’t stick at anything for more than six months.’ Which had, incidentally, been the exact length of his relationship with Mandy before the kiss in the library. Not that she’d counted.
Ben’s hand was already on his pint. ‘It’s a job. It pays me very, very well and I don’t have to sit in an office all day.’
Now, that sounded like the Ben she’d known. But it still felt wrong, somehow. And Luce had drunk enough wine to tell him so. ‘That doesn’t sound like it makes you happy.’
‘Are jobs supposed to make you happy?’ Ben asked, eyebrow raised.
‘Mine does,’ Luce said, in an immediate unconsidered response.
‘Really?’
‘Of course.’ At least as long as she didn’t think too much about the particulars. A lecturing position at the university and the opportunity to do her own research into areas of history that fascinated her. That was all she’d ever wanted.
It was just that day-to-day, dealing with the academic system, the obscure rules and regulations of academia, funding, and other colleagues...well, it could be a little...frustrating.
‘So, which part do you love the most?’ Ben asked. ‘Attending dull lectures your colleagues can’t be bothered to go to? Grading unoriginal essays? Applying for funding all the time just to actually do your job?’
Which was just a bit too close to her own thoughts for Luce’s comfort. ‘I’m not saying there aren’t downsides, or days that aren’t particularly joyous. But at the heart of it I love discovering the past. I love finding out about the lives of women long dead and how they influenced the world around them. That’s what matters to me.’
Ben’s gaze was curious now. How had this got turned around? Wasn’t she supposed to be questioning him?
Stranded with the Tycoon (Mills & Boon Cherish) Page 7