Читать книгу Modern Romance May 2016 Books 1-4 - Julia James, Andie Brock - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

LUKE’S PLANE LANDED at Heathrow just after eight a.m.

His flight had been delayed in Hong Kong, and he’d had to kick his heels around the international airport there for more than three hours.

By the time he got out of the arrivals lounge at Heathrow and found his chauffeur, Felix, waiting for him, he was in no mood to make nice with anyone.

‘Good trip?’ queried Felix, getting behind the wheel, and Luke gave him a dour look.

‘How long have you been waiting?’ he asked, instead of answering the man, and Felix shrugged.

‘A couple of hours, give or take,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I checked the flight online and saw there’d been a delay. But I never trust those schedules. I prefer to come to the airport and see for myself.’

That, at least, drew a rueful smile from his employer.

‘They’re usually reliable, you know,’ Luke said drily. Then, hooking one ankle across his knee, he gazed out of the car’s windows at the overcast sky. ‘It’s been a long journey.’

‘I’ll bet.’ Felix glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. ‘Maybe you should have gone to Mahe, after all.’

‘Yeah.’

Luke conceded the point, but said nothing more. Maybe he should have taken Jodi to the Seychelles as he’d originally intended. But after that trip to Ashford-St-James, he’d been in no mood to spend time with another woman.

Instead, he’d spent a couple of weeks in Melbourne, catching up with what Ray Carpenter and his family were doing. And avoiding thinking about the development he’d been planning before he went away.

‘So,’ he said resignedly, ‘is there any news?’

‘I suppose it depends what you mean by news,’ replied Felix evenly. ‘Some guy involved with that site you’re hoping to develop in Wiltshire has started a petition. He’s claiming that the buildings you’re thinking of demolishing have historical significance and should be placed under a preservation order.’

Luke didn’t ask how the man had got his information. Somehow Felix always knew what was going on. But he didn’t have to think very hard to guess who he was talking about.

Greg Hughes!

So was Abby involved? He would have to find out.

* * *

It was almost dark when Abby got home after walking Harley. And raining quite heavily, too.

They’d circled the park a couple of times and then Abby had called at the local deli for groceries. She didn’t like to admit it, but it was true: Ashford-St-James did need a decent supermarket. One with its own parking area. That was one disadvantage about the café. There was nowhere to park nearby.

Not that she owned a car, she reflected with a sigh. She owned an old van that she used to collect supplies from the wholesalers, but that was all. And that had to be parked in the alley between the row of shops.

Her divorce from Harry had not been a pretty one, and, after paying for her mother’s funeral, Abby had been virtually broke. Only the modest price she’d got for her mother’s terraced house had enabled her to move away from London. But she’d been so desperate to escape, she’d have sacrificed any amount of money to be free.

She tried not to think about it these days. Leaving London had been the best thing she could have done. Had she stayed in the capital, she knew Harry would have found some way to hurt her. He was a vindictive man, and only the fear that his friends would make fun of him if he contested the divorce had forced him to let her go.

Abby let herself into the side door of the café premises and, after locking it and setting the dead bolt, she climbed the stairs to her apartment.

Harley frolicked ahead of her, full of beans after his walk. But Abby took the stairs a little more slowly, wondering how much longer she would be allowed to stay here.

It was a Friday evening, but, from her point of view, the weekend was usually her busiest time. Shoppers, who came into the small town at weekends to do their weekly shop, often came into the café for either coffee or lunch. But at least she’d have a whole day off on Sunday.

Inside the apartment, she went into the small kitchen to put her shopping away and give Harley his supper. As well as the kitchen, there was a living room, which she’d furnished from the saleroom, with a dining alcove, and a reasonably-sized bedroom and bath. It was nothing like the upmarket apartment she’d shared with Harry. But, by comparison, it was heaven on earth.

Or it had been.

With the retriever seen to, Abby regarded the contents of her fridge without enthusiasm. She wasn’t particularly hungry and she decided to have a shower before tackling her own meal.

Leaving Harley to his kibble, she went into the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she did so. The shower was hot and she stood for several minutes letting the water cascade over her. She usually enjoyed the sensation, but tonight she couldn’t seem to relax.

She hadn’t forgotten that it was over three weeks since Luke’s visit to the café. Three weeks since they’d had that altercation that had culminated in Abby throwing him out. Well, asking him to go, she amended ruefully. There was no way she could have got him to leave if he hadn’t decided to do so.

Whatever, she knew he was the real cause of her depression. And not just because of the business either. It was obvious he still considered that she was to blame for Harry’s behaviour. But she was damned if she was going to try and tell him the truth, only to have him throw her words back in her face.

Besides, since moving to Ashford, she’d put all that misery behind her. Just occasionally, when she went back to visit her mother’s grave, the whole sorry affair jumped back into her mind.

Her mother would have been horrified had she even suspected the kind of life Abby had been leading before she died. But it had been worth it to ensure that Annabel Lacey had never wanted for anything.

Stepping out of the shower, she was towelling herself dry when she heard someone knocking at the outer door. Not to say ‘hammering’, she thought impatiently as Harley started barking. She wondered who on earth it could be.

The only person who came to mind was Greg Hughes and she had no intention of letting him in. But in all the years she’d been here, he’d never bothered her after dark.

The hammering started again and Harley’s barking grew to a crescendo. If she wasn’t careful, Miss Miller, who ran the gift shop on the other side of the café, and who also lived above the business, would begin to think something was wrong.

She couldn’t have that, and, tossing the towel aside, she wrung most of the water out of her hair and reached for her towelling bathrobe. Then, wrapping the folds about herself, she emerged into the living room where Harley was making so much noise.

‘Quiet,’ she said reprovingly, when the dog came to fuss about her. He was wagging his tail, but she knew better than to trust his judgement of who it might be.

It crossed her mind she shouldn’t open the door without first identifying her caller. She had one or two friends in Ashford; Lori Yates, for instance. But she would usually ring before turning up.

Biting her tongue, she opened the door to the stairs and paused, switching on the light. Of course, Harley had no such reservations and immediately ran down the stairs to the hall below. He barked again, as if saying, What are you waiting for? And with a resigned sigh, Abby followed him down.

She hesitated and then called warily, ‘Who is it?’

‘Me!’ Despite the fact that she shouldn’t instantly recognise the voice, it was unmistakeable. ‘Open the door, Abby. It’s pouring down out here.’

Luke!

Abby expelled an unsteady breath. What was Luke doing at her door?

‘I—I’m not dressed,’ she replied at last as Harley started barking again. ‘What do you want?’

Luke stifled an oath. ‘Open the damn door, Abby,’ he exclaimed, his patience obviously shredding. ‘Do you want me to get pneumonia?’

Abby was tempted to say she didn’t care, one way or the other, but that wouldn’t be true. She waited only another moment before releasing the bolt and pulling the heavy door open.

He was right. It was pouring, much worse now than it had been when they got back from their walk. A regular cloudburst had created a flood in the alley. Luke himself was soaked; the fabric of his jacket, which she suspected was cashmere, had darkened from silver grey to charcoal with the rain.

She bent and grabbed Harley and then stepped back automatically, and Luke dashed inside, closing the door behind him. A cool draught preceded him, making her shudder. Then he leaned back against the panels and regarded her between narrowed lids.

Abby knew his intent gaze was taking in every detail of her appearance, from the damp coil of hair looped over one shoulder to the shivering aspect of her shapely form. What was he thinking? she wondered. Why was he here? Not to deliver more bad news, she hoped.

It angered her a little that she was even asking herself these questions. Despite his apparent ownership of the site, Luke shouldn’t invade her privacy until he had the right to do so. Just because Harley was making a fuss of him, wagging his tail idiotically before rushing up the stairs and evidently expecting them to follow him, didn’t mean she had to give in. She sighed when Harley disappeared into the living room. He’d probably gone to fetch his favourite toy for Luke’s approval.

‘Why are you so wet?’ she asked at last, making no move to invite him up to the apartment. But she’d needed to say something, she thought, to ease the tension that was fairly crackling in the air between them.

‘I walked from the town square,’ he replied harshly. Then, after a nerve-tingling pause, ‘Believe it or not, but it’s impossible to stay dry when it’s raining.’

Sarcastic beast!

Abby wanted to reach past him, open the door and order him to leave. But, of course, she couldn’t do that. Not until she’d discovered why he was here.

‘I suppose you’d better come up,’ she said, indicating the stairs behind her. ‘It’s cold down here.’

‘You think?’

More sarcasm, but Abby chose to ignore it, going ahead of him up the staircase. Nevertheless, she was supremely conscious of him behind her. She was also conscious that she was barefoot, and that the bathrobe only fell a couple of inches below her knees. Not to mention the fact that she was naked underneath.

Her living room had never looked less appealing. The floral fabric of her sofa had seen better days and, although she’d brightened it up with coloured cushions, she was sure Luke would find it very different from what he was used to. Did he still have an apartment? No. He probably owned half a dozen houses by now.

At least Harley, and the lamps she’d switched on around the room, gave the place a homely familiarity. Luke followed her into the room and then closed the door behind him, immediately alerting her to the fact that they were alone.

‘Um—perhaps you should take off your jacket,’ she said belatedly, and Luke didn’t need a second invitation.

‘Thanks,’ he said, in a voice that implied he’d thought she’d never ask. He draped it over the back of one of the dining chairs. ‘It’s cold for this time of year.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Abby was glad of the change of tone.

Luke glanced about him. ‘Have you lived here long?’

Abby shrugged. ‘Over four years,’ she replied with some reluctance. ‘Why do you want to know?’

Luke’s deep-set dark eyes appraised her. ‘I’m curious. Is that when you left London?’

Abby shook her head. ‘You ask a lot of questions,’ she said. ‘Why are you here?’

Luke frowned, not answering her, and Abby wondered if she’d ever be able to enter the apartment again without seeing his lean, sardonic figure standing on her hearth.

In a maroon silk shirt, a paler tie pulled a few inches away from his collar, he looked darkly handsome. Add to that charcoal-grey pants, the dampness of which had caused the fabric to cling to his powerful legs, and she doubted any woman could remain immune to his sexual appeal.

She caught her breath, and as she did so Luke spoke again.

‘So you stayed with Laurence for over a year after that night in the wine bar,’ he remarked provokingly. ‘It must have been quite a blow when he threw you out.’

Abby was incensed. ‘So that’s why you came,’ she said disgustedly. ‘What are you looking for, Luke? Justification for the way you behaved?’

‘The way I behaved?’ He sounded incredulous.

‘Yes. You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I left Harry, not the other way about.’

Luke scowled. ‘That’s not why I’m here.’

‘Well, I can’t think of anything else.’ She wrapped her robe more closely about her. ‘But you’ve had—what?—four weeks to think of a reason. I’m surprised it took you so long.’

* * *

Luke’s patience snapped. Without another word, he reached for her, hauling her against him. He didn’t care that raindrops were still cascading down his face from his wet hair.

Capturing her chin with one hand, he brought her mouth to his.

Desire, hot and overwhelming, swept over him. His hands sought her hips, pulling her so close she must have been able to feel every muscle and sinew in his aroused body.

Because he was aroused, he realised, feeling his erection throbbing against her stomach. Dear God, what did this woman do to him that when he was with her, he couldn’t keep his hands off her?

Abby uttered a small protest, but then she arched against him. Luke was half afraid he was going to climax there and then. Steeling himself against the emotions roiling through his system, he tried to think coherently. He was here to talk about the petition Greg Hughes had no doubt set in motion. Not to make a fool of himself all over again.

But she was so warm, so desirable. Unable to prevent himself, he slid his hands up from her hips to her breasts. With his mouth still devouring hers, he peeled the towelling robe aside.

The belt, already loosely tied, gave way, exposing her naked body to his hungry gaze. Dragging his mouth from hers, he gazed down at her with hungry eyes. ‘Oh, yes,’ he muttered thickly. ‘You’re every bit as beautiful as I imagined.’