‘I’ll think about it. But not if it means putting an official seal on you ordering me about.’
Luke laughed at that. ‘Just don’t take too long coming to a decision. I’ve got the money and resources waiting and ready to go. You’ve got the training and the flair. We both care about the guest house. It makes sense that you should work for me.’
‘I could work with you, maybe,’ she finessed.
‘It’s my investment on the line,’ Luke stated firmly.
And Margaret’s future. This wasn’t about her pride, Lucia concluded. So could she work for Luke? The thought grated, but if she had an official role she could maybe dilute the Luke effect if he tried to wade in and take over. Didn’t she owe that much to an old lady with no one else on her side?
‘What’s this?’
While she’d been thinking Luke had been making himself at home, and now he was staring at his centrefold, stuck to the wall with chewing gum. Why on earth hadn’t she thought to pull the damn thing down before opening the door to him?
‘That’s my new dartboard,’ she said lightly. ‘Do you like it?’
‘I didn’t know you cared.’
‘I don’t.’
‘You always were a terrible liar, Lucia.’
As Luke stared at her, she improvised, ‘The girl who had the van before me must have stuck it up. I expect she used it to cover a crack.’
‘Must have been a bloody big crack,’ Luke murmured.
‘Massive, I’m sure,’ she mocked. ‘I must admit I was surprised when I first saw it. I never took you for an attention-seeker, Luke.’
‘Maybe because I’m not.’
‘So …?’
‘So your sister-in-law Holly persuaded me to let her run a magazine article to raise money for one of her charities. Holly just forgot to tell me when the photographers were coming.’
‘Forgot on purpose, knowing Holly,’ Lucia guessed, biting down on a smile. Holly could be ruthless when it came to landing a scoop. ‘So the photographers caught you out?’
‘No need to sound quite so pleased about it.’
Luke had brought his stubble-shaded face so close she could feel his heat warming her. ‘You might have smiled for the camera,’ she said, swinging away.
‘They seemed satisfied with the shots they took, so I guess angry men sell more magazines than smiling men.’
‘Well, I don’t like angry men.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Don’t act so surprised, Luke. You know I don’t. I’ve always preferred mild-mannered men who are kind and thoughtful.’
‘And who have just stepped off the cover of a book of fairytales? Get real, Lucia.’ Luke’s voice turned hard. ‘Or are you going to live in that fantasy world of yours for ever?’
‘My world seems pretty real to me right now.’ And she knew more about the real world than she cared to, which was something Luke definitely didn’t need to know.
‘Does this real world of yours turn on daydreams or actions?’ he demanded. ‘I hope for Margaret’s sake you’ve thought this through. And as for those hard, driven men? You’re a hopeless liar, Lucia. You love hard, driven men. You should do. You’ve grown up with four of them. You just think it’s fashionable to pretend that you don’t.’
‘Why on earth would I do that?’ she flashed as the temperature soared between them.
‘Hell if I know,’ Luke fired back with an angry gesture.
‘Since when has what I feel become your business?’
‘You’re right,’ he said, turning for the door. ‘I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.’
‘Where are you going?’ She realised as Luke swung around to stare at her that the desperation in her voice had pealed out like a klaxon.
‘I’m going to check this cooker. You can’t use it,’ Luke added, having given the sagging heap of tin a cursory examination. ‘And it can’t be repaired, so don’t even think of exercising your new-found practical skills.’
‘Why would I be practical when you and my brothers have snatched things out of my hands for as long as I can remember?’
‘Only so you couldn’t beat us over the head with them.’
True. ‘So why are you here, Luke? To offer me a job, or to compile a list of my failings for Nacho?’
‘I’m not sure I want such a difficult employee.’
‘Too much for you?’ she taunted, mellowing a little.
‘As it happens, I didn’t come here to offer you a job. I came to tie up some loose ends with Margaret, so everything we’ve been talking about may have to be put on hold.’
Until Margaret had given her agreement to Luke buying into the business, Lucia surmised, knowing she mustn’t do anything to spoil Margaret’s chances. Maybe co-operation was the key—just so long as it was co-operation and not annihilation.
‘Do you ever think back to those holidays, Lucia?’
Whoa, cowboy! That was a nifty change of tack. But Luke had always known how to reach in for her heart and squeeze it tight. And there was nothing like poignant memories that joined them both to do that. ‘I think about those holidays all the time,’ she said honestly. And then, because she didn’t want Luke knowing how that made her feel, she added waspishly, ‘You always were such a charmer.’
‘You haven’t changed much yourself,’ Luke countered.
But she had changed. So much.
He was lying, thought Luke. Lucia had changed beyond all recognition. Yes, she was all grown up, but there were shadows behind her eyes that had never used to be there, and they worried him. Surely she couldn’t still be upset after the confrontation with that drunk last night?
‘You’re over last night’s drama, aren’t you?’ he checked. ‘The drunk?’ he expanded when she frowned.
‘Of course I’m over it.’
But her cheeks flushed red when he held her gaze. So was she remembering when he’d kissed her? He was. ‘Let’s get back to your reasons for coming down to Cornwall,’ he said, seeking safer ground.
‘What about it?’
‘Is there anything else you’d like to share?’
‘You never give up, do you?’ she said, laughing as if he was making too much of things.
Her laughter sounded hollow to him. ‘No, I don’t,’ he confirmed.
‘You always were so suspicious, Luke.’
You bet he was. ‘Of course I’m curious to know why you left London, why you came back here. And why you’ve decided to stay.’
‘That’s three questions.’
She laughed again, but it still rang false.
‘Confiding in a friend isn’t a sign of weakness, Lucia.’
‘I don’t feel the need to confide in anyone, Luke. And I certainly don’t need you as my shrink.’
‘That is good news,’ he agreed.
‘Why?’ she said.
‘Because I’d need a sixth sense and a doctorate in divination before I could sort you out.’ But as his stare dropped to the curve of her lips he wondered if it really would be all that hard to sort Lucia out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My to-do list has collapsed. I have hardly ticked off any items, and even those I have tried to tick off I’ve bodged. What I really need is a relationship counsellor. Luke has stirred memories I have always tried to skirt around, making me look at some of the least comfortable of them head-on. He has made me realise that I wrote my to-do list at a time when all I could think was: If I had my time, this is what I would do with it.
I wrote that list so confidently at age fourteen, hardly realising how much more complicated life could be than a series of goals to enhance my physical appearance. What about my heart? What about a to-do list for my heart?
‘WOULD you like something to drink?’ she asked the warrior currently taking up every available inch of space in her caravan whilst throwing his weight around like all her brothers combined. It was the least she could do, she convinced herself. After all, Luke had offered her a job that might even ha
ve a wage attached. And he’d given the caravan a health-check—not that that had worked out so well.
‘That would be good,’ he confirmed. ‘Just don’t give me one of those glasses on the shelf over the cooker, with a coating of dust and a dead fly garnish.’
She laughed. She hadn’t even noticed there were glasses on that shelf. Back to the drawing board where cleaning was concerned, Lucia concluded, and with a head full of scouring powder and dishcloths this time, instead of Luke. ‘How about a can of soda?’
‘Whatever you’ve got, sweetheart.’
‘I’m not your sweetheart.’ She stalled, realising she’d given too much away by snapping like that. How often had she dreamed of Luke murmuring endearments, knowing he never would? A quick glance was enough to reassure her that Luke hadn’t even registered the sting in her words.
This was like trying to contain a tiger in a very small box, Lucia concluded as Luke performed the seemingly impossible feat of squeezing his powerful body into the smallest of spaces between the bunk-cum-bench and a chipped Formica table.
‘What happened to this place?’ he murmured, staring out of the window.
‘I guess the world grew tired of St Oswalds and moved on.’
‘I can’t see anyone studying their reflection in a rock pool,’ Luke agreed, his sweeping ebony brows lifting with amusement as he glanced at her.
‘I wasn’t looking at myself. I was studying wildlife, if you must know.’
‘I was pretty wild back in those days,’ he commented dryly.
‘You are so full of it. I wasn’t looking at you,’ she insisted heatedly, knowing full well that the whole point of sitting sentry by that rock pool had been to make sure she was in position when Luke came thundering by.
He’d always chosen the wildest pony in the bunch so he could thrash her brothers, but when Luke had returned to the guest house he’d been all gloss and manners. An only child, idolised by his parents, Luke had never let them down. When Luke came down to dinner his necktie would be perfectly knotted, his hair neat and his shoes highly polished. Leave him with her brothers for half an hour and Luke turned feral.
It had been a kickback against his strict upbringing, she realised now, remembering how unbelievably sexy she had found the transformation from strait-laced Luke to an impossibly wild version. And now he was somewhere in between. Formidably successful in business, Luke was a barbarian, unstoppable and unbelievably sexy, on the polo field. What he was like in private she had no idea—not really.
‘Those were great days,’ he said thoughtfully, shifting position in a way that suggested Luke’s temporarily confined body was cramped like a coiled spring.
‘Yes, they were,’ she agreed, trying to forget the glances that had passed between them when they were teenagers.
She’d had to be so careful not to let her brothers see how she felt about Luke. Everything about the invisible bond between them had been breath-stealing and forbidden. And had quite possibly only existed in her imagination, Lucia conceded silently, since normally Luke had barely acknowledged her existence when her brothers were around.
Her brothers weren’t here now …
It made no difference. She wasn’t about to throw herself at Luke and make a bigger fool of herself than she already had by flirting and then flinching when the fear came roaring back.
‘Those holidays were the highlight of my year,’ he admitted, shaking her out of the reverie.
‘You being an only child, I guess down-time with my brothers was quite a novelty.’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Luke agreed, his lips tugging as he thought back.
She picked up his empty can just for the excuse to turn away and put it in the trash. Even then she could feel the heat of his stare on her back. Just what exactly was Luke thinking?
‘That’s the connection between us,’ he said, making her swing round.
‘What is?’ she demanded.
‘You were the only girl in a family with four hell-raising brothers, and I was an only child in a family with ramrods up its spine. Both of us were outsiders, Lucia. We just didn’t see it that way back then.’
‘So fill in the gaps, Luke. What have you been doing since I last saw you?’
‘Making money. Building companies. Making sure my father can retire with honour. Nursing the family’s charitable foundation back to health. What about you, Lucia?’
‘You first,’ she said stubbornly. ‘Why did you come back here?’
Luke cocked his head as he stared away from her. ‘Same reason as you, I expect. I’ve been trying to recapture something I’ve lost.’
‘Freedom,’ she said, thinking out loud.
‘I’m free enough,’ Luke argued, ‘but I do miss the good times we used to have here. When you can choose to holiday anywhere in the world it’s surprising how you hanker after the familiar. Only St Oswalds wasn’t the way I remembered it when I came back.’
‘No, it’s falling apart,’ she agreed.
‘So I’ll do something about it,’ he said with a shrug.
‘And so will I,’ she said, staking her claim.
‘What are your plans, Lucia?’
She felt defensive suddenly. How feeble they would sound compared to his. Her plans included working as hard as she could and trying to get the villagers to help too. She wasn’t ready to admit that her plans also included the rebuilding of Lucia Acosta, brick by unsmothered brick—preferably without hang-ups this time. But she had to admit there were possibilities to them working together. Luke was a highly successful businessman, while she understood the hospitality industry and how to make guests happy.
‘Were you planning to invest your own money, or are your brothers backing you?’ Luke pressed as the silence ticked by.
‘I’m sure Nacho must have told you that he pays me an allowance like a trust fund brat?’
‘He didn’t, actually. I think Nacho cares a lot more about you than you give him credit for, Lucia.’
And now she felt guilty. ‘I know he does,’ she admitted quietly. ‘If you must know, I divert the money Nacho gives me into a charity.’
Luke shrugged. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Lucia.’
But she wanted to. ‘Standing on my own two feet doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate or love my brothers any less. I just don’t want handouts from anyone, Luke—and that includes you.’
‘If Margaret agrees to me buying in I’ll make you earn your money.’
‘Then we might have a deal.’
‘Let’s thrash a few things through first,’ he said, standing to tug off his jacket.
‘You’re far too big for a caravan,’ she observed as Luke ducked his head.
‘And you’re far too spoiled,’ Luke countered. ‘There’s plenty of room in here for both of us.’
If they were welded together, Luke might be right. ‘You think?’
‘I know. You just have to be well organised, Lucia.’
‘I’m trying,’ she said.
‘You certainly are,’ he agreed. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Luke patted the bed by his side.
Because there was nowhere to sit without sitting on top of him. She settled for perching awkwardly on the very edge of the bed, but even then their thighs were touching.
Luke rested his chin on his shoulder to stare at her. ‘Well, this is cosy—but there are plenty of better places I can think of to chat through your terms and conditions.’
‘Like the Grand?’ she cut in.
Luke’s lips pressed down. He’d been sure she would fold and agree to let him book a room for her.
‘Let’s get one thing straight, Luke. If I work for you, I stand on my own two feet. I don’t commute from the Grand. I live here—on site.’
‘I won’t let you stay here.’
‘You can’t stop me.’
‘Nostalgia is a powerful force, Lucia, as I would be the first to admit, but you should never allow it to cloud your judgement. You can work her
e and live down the road.’
‘And travel in by town car? No way, Luke. I’ve left that life behind, and now I’m going to live my life my way.’
Raking his hair, he somehow managed to keep his mouth shut until they had both calmed down. He had vowed not to get involved. ‘Let me give you some facts, Lucia. The guest house is so far gone this project might not even work with my money backing it. The Sundowner was my first choice when I decided I wanted to reinstate Polo on the Beach, but when I made enquiries I was told the guest house had been failing for years—’
‘Who told you this?’ she interrupted.
‘My second choice: the Grand.’
‘So the small local guest house finds itself in difficulties and the nearby behemoth does its best to stamp it out of business?’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you went along with that, Luke. It’s not what I’d call neighbourly.’
‘If you’re serious about working in the hotel industry it’s time you learned how to get on with the competition. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Lucia.’
‘Says the oracle?’
‘It’s a basic rule of business.’
‘Well, thanks for the advice, Luke. I guess I’ll just have to make my own mistakes.’
‘And if you’re thinking about sleeping another night under this roof,’ he said, giving it a blow with his fist that set the whole place shaking, ‘I’d advise you not to. It’s freezing outside and you don’t have any heating. There isn’t even a lock on the door.’
‘Margaret has lived alone at the guest house for most of her life.’
‘Because Margaret has to,’ Luke pointed out. ‘You don’t have to. You didn’t have to live in at the hotel in London. You could have stayed at the family penthouse.’
In spite of her best efforts the temperature was rising. ‘In the best part of town?’
‘It would have been a roof over your head. Just as taking a room at the Grand wouldn’t kill you.’
‘And how is living at the family penthouse or running up your bill at the Grand supposed to make me independent, Luke? I’m safe here. The fact that Margaret has lived alone for all these years should tell you something.’
The Man From her Wayward Past Page 8