Читать книгу The Real Romero - Кэтти Уильямс, CATHY WILLIAMS, Cathy Williams - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

‘SOMETHING’S ONLY JUST occurred to me...’

The dishes had been done, mostly by Milly, while Lucas had relaxed and fiddled with the complicated coffee-making machine, eventually succeeding in producing two small cups of espresso that she was embarrassed to tell him would probably keep her up all night. It had taken him such a long time finally to get there that it would have seemed churlish to politely refuse. She had never met anyone more clueless when it came to knowing his way around a kitchen. Or less interested, for that matter.

Now they were back on the white sofa although, with permission granted to stay in the lodge, she felt a little less uncomfortable in her surroundings.

‘And I take it that this sudden thought is one you want to share with me.’ This was a brave, new world. She had already berated him for not helping enough in the kitchen and had then proceeded to give him a mini-lecture on the wonders of ‘the modern man’. Apparently those were men who shared all the domestic chores, cooked and cleaned with the best of them and gave foot massages to their loved ones. He had told her that, quite frankly, he could think of nothing worse.

‘I should have asked you this before but with everything going on my mind was all over the place...’

Lucas grunted. The emails that he had planned to spend the evening ploughing through had quickly taken a back seat to the girl now staring off into the distance with a thoughtful frown.

‘I should have asked you whether you’re...er...involved with someone or not.’

‘Involved with someone...’

‘Are you married?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Not that it makes any difference, because we’re both just employees who happen to be stranded in the same lodge.’ The same empty lodge. ‘But I wouldn’t want your wife to be worried. You know...’

‘You mean you wouldn’t want her to be jealous.’

‘Well, anxious...’ So he was married, despite the lack of a wedding ring. Lots of men didn’t wear wedding rings. She felt a stab of disappointment. Why wouldn’t he be married? she thought, restlessly pushing aside that awkward, uninvited emotion that had no place in her life. He was sinfully sexy and oozed just the sort of self-assurance and lazy arrogance that women went wild for.

‘Interesting concept. A jealous and anxious wife worried about her beloved husband sharing a ski lodge with a total stranger...’ He tried the thought on for size and tried not to burst out laughing.

When it came to women and commitment, he was the least likely candidate. Once bitten, twice shy and he had had his brush with his one and only near-escape. It had been a decade and a half ago but as learning curves went it had been a good one. He had been a nineteen-year-old kid, already with plenty of experience but still too green to recognise when he was being played. He’d been young, cocky and arrogant enough to think that gold-diggers all came wrapped up and packaged the same way: big hair, high heels, obvious charms.

But Betina Crew, at twenty-seven nearly eight years older than him, had been just the opposite. She had been a wild flower-child who went on protest marches and waxed lyrical about saving the world. He had fallen hook, line and sinker until she’d tried to reel him in with a phoney pregnancy scare, which he had so nearly bought, and had so nearly walked down the aisle. It was pure chance that he had discovered the packet of contraceptive pills tucked away at the back of one of her drawers and, when he’d confronted her, it had all ended up turning ugly.

Since then, he had never kidded himself that there was such a thing as disinterested true love. Not when the size of his bank balance was known. His parents might have had the perfect marriage, but they had both started off broke and had worked together to make their fortune. His mother still believed in all that clap trap about true love, and he hadn’t the heart to disillusion her, but he knew that when and if he ever decided to tie the knot it would be less Cupid’s bow and arrow than a decent arrangement overseen by a lawyer with a watertight pre-nup.

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘No anxious, jealous or whatever-you-want-to-call-it wife keeping the home fires warm.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Why the interest? Are you suggesting that there might be something for a woman to be jealous about?’

‘No!’ Milly nearly choked on her espresso. ‘In case you’d forgotten,’ she added, regaining her composure, ‘I came over here to try and escape. The last thing on my mind would be involvement with anyone! I just don’t want to think that there’s anyone out there who cares about you and who might be alarmed that we happen to be stuck here together through no fault of our own.’

‘In that case, I’ll set your mind at rest, shall I? No girlfriend and, even if there was a girlfriend, I’m not a jealous guy and I don’t encourage jealousy in women I date.’

‘How can you discourage someone from being jealous?’ She hadn’t been at all jealous when it came to Robbie. Why was that? she wondered. Was it because she had known him off and on for a long time, and one was never that jealous when it came to people they were familiar with? She hadn’t even thought twice about Robbie and Emily being alone together. And yet there was something deep inside telling her that surely jealousy was something that attacked at random and couldn’t be debated or ordered out of existence?

‘I’ve never found a problem with that. The women I date know my parameters and they tend to respect them.’

‘You’re the most arrogant guy I’ve ever met in my entire life,’ Milly said with genuine wonderment.

‘I think you’ve already told me that.’ He drained his cup and dumped it on one of the coffee tables, then he stood up and flexed his muscles, watching as she uncurled herself from the sofa and automatically reached to gather his cup along with hers.

His automatic instinct was irritably to tell her to leave it, that someone would tidy it away in the morning, then he remembered that there would be no cleaner trooping along to make sure she tidied in his wake.

‘I’ll show you to your room.’

‘Feels odd to be here without the owner in residence.’

Lucas had the grace to flush but he refrained from saying anything, instead scooping up her holdall, which had seen better days, and heading out towards a spiral staircase that led up to a huge galleried landing that overlooked the ground floor.

There, as on the ground floor, soaring windows gave out to the same spectacular views of the open, snow-covered mountains. It was dark outside and the snow was a peculiar dull-blue white against the velvety darkness.

For a few seconds, Milly paused to admire the vista, which was truly breathtakingly beautiful. When she looked away it was to find his dark eyes speculatively pinned to her face.

She was here with a guy she didn’t know and yet, far from feeling threatened in any way, she felt safe. There was something silent and inherently strong about him that was deeply reassuring. She felt that if the place were to be invaded by a clutch of knife wielding bandits he would be able to dispatch them single-handedly.

‘I have no idea where Ramos was going to put you,’ Lucas told her truthfully. ‘But I expect this room will do as good as any of the others.’

He flung wide the door and she gasped. It was, simply put, the most splendid bedroom she had ever seen. She almost didn’t want to disturb its perfection by going inside. He breezed in and tossed her bag on the elegant chaise longue by the window, yet another of those massive windows designed to remind you of the still, white, glorious silence that lay outside.

‘Well?’ Lucas rarely noticed his surroundings but he did now because the expression on her face was so tellingly awestruck.

Playground for the seriously rich—this was what the lodge was. He had had zero input into its decor. He had left that to a world famous interior designer. When the job had been done, he had dispatched three of his trusted employees to give it the once over and make sure that everything had been done to the highest possible standard, no corners cut. Thereafter he had used it a handful of times when the season was at its height and only if the skiing conditions were perfect.

It was a beautiful place. He looked at the cool, white furnishings, breathed in the air of calm, noted the quality of the wood and the subtlety of the faded Persian rug on the ground. Nothing jarred. In the bowels of the lodge, there was a comprehensive spa and sauna area. He’d used that once.

Now, he had an intense urge to take her down there and show it to her just so that he could see that expression of awe again, even though, regrettably, the lodge was not his as far as she was concerned. For the first time in living memory, he had an insane desire to brag. Hell, where had that come from?

‘It’s amazing.’ Milly hovered by the door. ‘Isn’t it amazing? Well, I guess you’re used to this, but I’m not. My entire flat could fit into this bedroom. Is that an en suite bathroom?’

Amused, Lucas pushed the adjoining door and, sure enough, it opened out to a bathroom that was almost as big as the bedroom and contained its own little sitting area. He wondered what the interior designer had had in mind when she’d decided on sticking furniture in the bathroom.

‘Wow.’ Milly tiptoed her way to the bathroom and peered in. It was absolutely enormous. ‘You could have a party in here,’ she breathed in a hushed voice.

‘I doubt anyone would choose to do that.’

‘How can you be so blasé about all of this?’ She was too busy inspecting her glorious surroundings to look at him but she was acutely aware of his masculine presence next to her. ‘I mean, do you teach lots of rich people? Is that it? You’re accustomed to places like this because you’re in them all the time?’

‘I’ve been to a number of places along these lines...’

Milly laughed that infectious laugh that made him want to smile. ‘Must be a terrific anti-climax when the season’s over and you have to return to your digs.’

‘I cope.’

Suddenly exhausted after a day of travelling and the stress of finding herself out of a job, then back in one, Milly yawned behind her hand and wandered over to her holdall, which was not the quality of bag that should have adorned the chaise longue.

‘I’ve talked about myself all night,’ she said sleepily. ‘Tomorrow you can tell me all about yourself and your exciting life working for the rich and famous.’

A minute later she closed, and after a few seconds’ thought locked, the bedroom door behind him and began running the bath. The ridiculously luxurious bath that was so big and so deep that it was almost the size of a plunge pool.

She wouldn’t have believed it but she was having an impossible adventure and—okay, admit it—was so transfixed by Lucas that there had been no room in her head to feel sorry for herself.

She wondered what he did when he wasn’t playing ski instructor to rich adults and their kids. Did he while away his summers in the company of wealthy socialites? He was good-looking enough to be a gigolo but she dismissed that idea as fast as it entered her head because she couldn’t imagine that he could be that sleazy.

He’d said didn’t sleep with married women and she believed him. There had been a shadow of repugnance when that suggestion had been mooted.