Bought: Damsel in Distress

‘You don’t believe me.’

Emily shot him an assessing glance. ‘I’m not sure.’

He clutched his chest as if in pain. ‘I’m wounded.’

‘I’m devastated that you’re wounded.’

‘You should be. Your sister accepted my reasons without question.’

Did she? Emily’s eyes narrowed. ‘My sister’s brain has been pulverised by motherhood,’ she said darkly.

‘You’re more wary?’

‘Maybe,’ she murmured, wrenching her eyes from his and looking down at where her fingers were playing with the ends of the scarf tied round her head.

That particular avenue of conversation was not one she wanted to pursue. Weaving the strands between her fingers, she found herself wondering whether it was true. She’d spent hours analysing her relationship with Tom and what had gone wrong, but she hadn’t looked at the effects it had left behind.

She probably had become more wary since breaking up with him, she acknowledged, her brow creasing. Five years with the same man was a long time, even if the last year had been pretty rocky, and her dating skills were rusty. Plus, she thought she’d known her ex-fiancé inside out, and it turned out she hadn’t known him at all.

Perhaps Anna was right. Perhaps she did need closure. It wasn’t normal for a girl of twenty-eight to hang up her dating shoes. She did need to get Out There.

At least her reaction to Luke proved that she was still capable of feeling sexual desire. Emily stole a peek at him from beneath her lashes just to make sure that it was still there. He was reading a report with amazing speed, underlining sections, writing notes, his long fingers flicking though the pages, almost caressing the paper. Oh, yes, sexual desire was definitely still there, if the bolt of fire that spread through her was any proof. Her gaze slid up to where a wedge of chest was exposed by the open collar of his shirt. Her focus zoomed in on the fine dark hairs that emerged from the bottom of the V, and she had to ball her hands into fists to stop her fingers whipping up and ripping open another couple of buttons.

‘I can’t concentrate on my report if you keep staring at me like that.’

Emily froze. Oh, God. He was watching her watching him! Had she been caught in the act? How excruciating. She tentatively lifted her gaze further, fully expecting to see a mocking glint in his eyes, but he was still looking down. That was even worse: he’d been able to feel her eyes devouring him. She went crimson and clapped her hands to her cheeks, turning an involuntary groan of shame into a lengthy cough.

‘Would you like some water?’ he enquired mildly, still apparently absorbed.

She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll get it.’ Standing up and moving around would do her good. It might even give her body the opportunity to redistribute her blood away from her face. ‘I wouldn’t want your concentration to be disturbed any further,’ she added, levering herself out of the seat.

She wandered across the cream carpet towards the drinks cabinet where Luke had poured her champagne when they’d boarded. What a way to travel. No interminable check-in queues, no stuffing your case into an overfilled overhead locker and yourself into an uncomfortable seat. And a travelling companion that looked like Luke. Her skin prickled and she went warm.

‘Would you like anything?’ she asked, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge and filling a glass. She pressed the cold bottle against her cheek and felt it cool her overheated body.

Sticking a hand in the back pocket of her jeans, she took a sip and bent down to look out of the window at the great expanse of azure sky.

‘No, thanks. And you’re disturbing me.’

Emily blinked, instantly aware that her skin had prickled, was still tingling, because his eyes had been burning into her back. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said calmly. ‘You’re watching me.’

A pause, and then, ‘Like I said, you’re disturbing me.’

CHAPTER TWO

EMILY went still while her body temperature rocketed. Had he really just said that? Did it mean what she thought it meant? She straightened and turned, eyes wide, not quite sure what to say next.

Luke wasn’t in his seat. He’d moved to the fax machine and was shuffling the pages into the feeder. What with the hum of the engines and the thickness of the carpet she hadn’t heard him move.

She took a deep breath. ‘Am I?’ she said.

Luke didn’t break from what he was doing. ‘Are you what?’

‘Disturbing you?’

‘Not at all,’ he said, whipping round and flashing her a brief smile. ‘Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything you like.’

What?

Then she shrugged. She must have misunderstood, she decided, following his movements over the rim of her glass as he strode back to the chair. He picked up his own glass and tossed the contents down his throat. Emily slid back into her seat and watched him as he leaned and twisted over to pull out another report. The muscles in his torso were clearly defined beneath his shirt. He pushed up his sleeves to reveal strong, tanned forearms and her mouth went dry.

Emily didn’t generally have a thing about forearms, but Luke’s were—well, they were making her reconsider. Tanned, muscled, lightly sprinkled with rough hair. She felt a fierce urge to run her hands over them. Her eyes fell to the long brown fingers idly twirling the pen as he concentrated on the report. Compared to the speed with which he’d read the last document, this one seemed hard going. In fact, he hadn’t turned the page once, and he hadn’t underlined a single word or made any notes whatsoever. If pressed, she’d have sworn he was distracted.

She would do the decent thing and rescue him from his torturous report by dazzling him with her conversational skills. But before she could make a start on finding out what made this enticingly enigmatic man tick, Luke shot to his feet and went to pour himself some more water.

‘Don’t you drink?’ she asked when he returned. She’d been merrily sipping away at her champagne since take-off, but he hadn’t touched a drop.

‘Not on a Friday when I’ve got meetings in the afternoon.’

She nodded sagely. ‘Very wise. On the other hand, who arranges meetings on a Friday afternoon? It’s practically the weekend.’

‘I have clients in Monte Carlo. And it’s not the weekend.’

Mmm. ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a fund manager.’

‘Ah, interesting.’

Luke smiled. ‘Not really. Unless you happen to have an obsession with derivatives and index futures.’

‘Which you do?’

‘I seem to have a knack for making money out of them.’

And didn’t that neatly avoid the question? She nodded in what she hoped was a knowledgeable fashion. ‘I should imagine there are quite a few high net worth individuals in Monte Carlo.’

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You know about high net worth individuals?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised. I know a little about lots of things.’

‘Like what?’ He linked his hands together and leaned forward.

‘Like how City boys like you can spend ten thousand pounds on a gold leaf cocktail,’ she said, giving him a small smile to show she was half joking.

Luke frowned. ‘A few do. I don’t. And nor do any of my staff. They don’t have time. Plus, they know they’d be fired if they did.’

She shuddered. Ruthless as well as gorgeous. A dangerously attractive combination.

He shot her a sudden killer smile that had her blood racing round her body. ‘Besides, I prefer to spend my money on rescuing damsels.’

‘You mean there are others?’ she said, trying not to sound too curious.

‘Not at the moment. It’s very distressing.’

Emily let out a burst of laughter.

‘What about you? What do you do?’

‘A bit of this, a bit of that.’ Emily smiled at the quizzical look on his face. ‘I’m a professional temp, currently resting.’ She waited. This was the moment when people usually scoffed at her, or told her what an idiot she was for not pursuing a proper career.

Luke leaned back. ‘What made you choose to be a temp?’

Emily was taken aback. He sounded genuinely interested. Most people assumed that she was temping until she could find a proper job. Whereas she’d made a deliberate decision to make it a career. ‘I like the flexibility. Days off when I want. It’s perfect. It gives me time to do the things I love doing.’

He was looking at her as though she was speaking in a foreign language. ‘Such as?’

‘Spending time with my sister and her twins. Seeing friends, potting, that kind of thing.’

‘Potting?’

‘Potting. Making pots.’

‘Are you any good?’

‘No idea. But I don’t have to be. It’s a hobby. I do it for fun.’ That wasn’t strictly true. She’d love to make a living out of it, but she suspected she wasn’t much good. ‘Temping is really just a way of paying the bills. Funnily enough, I once worked at a fund manager’s.’

‘Oh? Which one?’

‘JT Investments. Do you know it?’

Luke nodded. ‘I know the CEO.’

‘Jack Taylor? I never met him, but the work was interesting. Challenging.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s what I mean. I like the variety of the work. Meeting new people, discovering new gossip without any need to get involved in office politics. And then, just when you start thinking it’s getting a tad monotonous—which, let’s face it, most jobs are—you get to leave and try something else. It’s great.’ She grinned at him. He still wasn’t getting it, but that was all right, most people didn’t. She leaned forward. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to give me a lecture on the folly of my decision? About how unstable temping is, and how my brain must be atrophying, and that at my age I really should be sprinting up a career ladder?’

‘Why would I do that? You clearly enjoy what you do.’ He frowned slightly at this, as if it was an unfamiliar concept to him. ‘And it’s none of my business.’

Emily sniffed. ‘That doesn’t stop most people.’

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I know...I’ve been on the receiving end of something similar.’

‘Really?’

Something in his voice—bitterness, weariness, maybe—had her senses leaping to attention. ‘What would people lecture you about, I wonder?’ she said.

In the long silent seconds while he regarded her, Emily’s heart began to beat faster.

‘Apparently I need more fun in my life,’ he said eventually, his tone leaving her in no doubt about what he thought of that piece of advice. ‘Apparently I work too hard.’

‘Do you?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Why?’ she asked, suddenly feeling that she was entering into choppy water.

‘Habit,’ he said flatly.

‘What do you do to relax?’

‘Relax?’ His brows snapped together.

‘Yes, you know. Relax. Chill out, unwind.’

‘I don’t have time to relax.’

Okaaayyy. ‘What about the fun part?’

His eyes glittered. ‘If I needed fun in my life,’ he said, his voice rumbling over her, ‘I’d be perfectly capable of finding it.’

The way he was looking at her, his gaze scorching over her face before resting on her mouth, set her blood to boiling. His eyes had turned the colour of the sky at midnight and his expression shifted, darkened, intensified—as if there was only one thing on his mind. Then it vanished and his face was impassive once again.

But Emily had caught it. She hadn’t been mistaken about what exactly it was that had been disturbing him earlier.

For that brief moment Luke had considered finding fun with her.

Her heart pounded and her ears popped. The problem was, she mused, as the pilot’s voice advised them they were starting their descent, that once they’d landed and gone their separate ways there wasn’t anything that could be done about it.

He should have left her at the bloody airport, thought Luke grimly, handing the porter a crisp note and watching him disappear with Emily’s suitcase.

That would have been the sensible, logical, rational thing to do. It was a shame, then, that sense, logic and reason had taken a hike hours ago.

‘Are you sure this is the right place?’ Emily was squinting up at the hotel and rocking on her heels.

‘Yes,’ he said curtly. Her sister had booked her into the one of the oldest, most exclusive hotels on the coast.

‘But look at the place,’ she wailed. ‘And look at me.’

Against his better judgement, he did as she suggested. He ran his gaze over her profile. Wavy fair hair was held back in a wide scarf, the ends of which dangled down her back. She was wearing a close fitting pink T-shirt and well-worn jeans that hugged the curve of her bottom. He felt a savage kick of desire in the pit of his stomach as he followed the long line of her legs to where fuchsia-painted toenails were peeping out of some sort of high-heeled shoe.

‘They’ll never let me in in jeans—and non-designer ones at that.’

‘You have a room booked for two nights at five hundred euros a night,’ Luke said tersely. ‘They’re not going to question what you’re wearing.’

Emily swivelled to face him, her jaw dropping. ‘Five hundred euros? A night?’

‘A night,’ he confirmed, grabbing her elbow and leading her into the lobby. ‘You’d better make the most of it.’

‘I shall,’ she said, flashing him a wicked smile. The sooner he got out of here the better. ‘I’ll raid the mini bar and download dozens of saucy films, and then Anna will rue the day she decided to auction me off to the highest bidder.’

Saucy films? Luke’s jaw clenched. His fingers tightened and he quickened his pace. He needed to leave. Now. Before he succumbed to the demands his body had been making since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

He propelled her across the lobby, deposited her at the reception desk, and took a step back. For a second he just stared at her, his mind suddenly blank. Then he noticed that her mouth, that highly distracting mouth, was moving. He forced his attention to what she was saying.

‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said, smiling faintly.

‘You’re welcome. It was on my way anyway. Have a good weekend.’

A shadow flickered across her face, clouding her eyes. ‘I’ll try. You too.’

Luke gave her a brief nod, turned on his heel and strode towards the door. With every step he felt the return of his focus. Hell, not just his focus. His sanity. Ever since he’d clicked on that damn link that Jack had sent him and seen her photo he’d been steadily losing it. Lusting over her picture as if he was a hormonal adolescent instead of the cool, disciplined, rock-steady man he had made himself become. For a man who liked to be in control, the last few hours had been a harrowing experience.

‘Luke?’

Her voice reached him when he was halfway to the door. You didn’t hear that, he muttered to himself. Don’t stop. Nearly there.

‘Luke?’

This time her voice was closer and huskier, wrapping round the sound of his name like velvet, and it slammed him to a halt. He turned to find Emily standing a foot away from him, looking at him warily. ‘Yes?’

‘Would you come to this wedding with me?’

When Luke went rigid, and paled beneath his tan, Emily instantly regretted the impulse that had made her run after him. She shouldn’t have asked. She knew that. It was just that as he’d walked away she’d had the oddest feeling that she’d never see him again. That somehow he’d arrange not to have to accompany her back to London on Sunday. And that she’d have to endure the torture of Tom’s wedding with nothing whatsoever to look forward to.

But maybe he had plans for the weekend. She’d seen how busy he was from the endless string of phone calls that he’d juggled during the journey from the airport to the hotel. He must have piles of work to do. Why on earth would he want to waste his valuable time on her?

No. That was Luke’s answer to her question. He had a stack of analyst reports and stockmarket data to get through before the weekend was over. Even if he hadn’t had that excuse, he hadn’t been to a wedding or inside a church in years, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. So if that was what she’d been planning all along, she’d got landed with the wrong man.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her, standing there waiting for his answer, fiddling with her hair, her green eyes shining steadily at him. She was nibbling on her lower lip again. An arrow of heat fired through him, tightening and stiffening his body, just as it had done on the plane. He fought back a surge of desire. Emily was resourceful and confident. She’d manage fine on her own.

At the precise moment when Luke opened his mouth to tell her that he had other plans Emily jammed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The movement thrust her breasts forward and he lost what little sense he’d had left.

‘Forget it. I—’ she began.

‘Sure—why not?’ He cut her off, his voice thick and distant. His head throbbed with a sudden desperate urge to haul her up against him and see if she was as soft and yielding as she looked.

‘Really?’ Emily let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed, while Luke shoved a hand through his hair, nodded, and called himself all kinds of bloody idiot.

‘Great,’ she said, beaming at him. ‘It might even be fun. It’s at six tomorrow evening, at a château near Valensole. There’s a reception and a dinner afterwards.’

Luke was looking shell-shocked. Emily was just beginning to wonder whether he’d heard her when he said, ‘I’ll pick you up at three.’

She looked up at him in surprise. ‘Is it that far?’

‘A couple of hours.’

Emily frowned. That changed things. She couldn’t expect him to give up such a large chunk of his weekend. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ she asked.

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I may even be able to dig out a morning suit.’

Emily smiled, feeling happier and more settled than she had in hours. ‘Thank you, Luke.’

And then, because she really was grateful, and because it seemed the natural thing to do, she reached up and planted a light kiss at the corner of his mouth.

But there was nothing natural about her reaction. The moment her mouth grazed his skin the world wobbled. Her lips tingled and his smell—clean, masculine and untainted by after-shave—swirled into her head. Sensation washed over her. Emily swayed and then jerked back, unable to stifle a tiny gasp of shock.

She saw her own surprise and confusion and something else reflected in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She was too close. The heat radiating off his body was scorching her. She stumbled back, but his hands shot out, and before she’d realised what was happening he was pulling her back against him, wrapping his arms around her and crashing his mouth down on hers.

He took advantage of her parted lips instantly, his tongue darting into her mouth and exploring her with a thoroughness that turned her bones to water. His fingers tangled in her hair, angling her head, and he deepened the kiss. Emily’s heart banged around her chest and her blood raced around her body like a stream of fire.

Her own hands found their way to his back and her fingers bunched the fabric of his jacket, itching to delve underneath and touch his skin everywhere. The hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach. His hand curved round to brush the side of her breast and she moaned into his mouth.

She froze. The sound of her own desperate longing brought her thundering back to reality. What on earth were they doing? Locked together, kissing frantically, about to rip each other’s clothes off. In the lobby of a five-star hotel.

An identical thought had obviously occurred to Luke at exactly the same time. His hands stilled and he pulled back, staring down at her, his eyes so dark they were almost black, his breathing ragged as he struggled to get his body back under control.

‘Oh, dear,’ he said huskily, letting her go, turning on his heel and striding out of the hotel.

‘That’s all he said? “Oh, dear”?’

‘Yes, for the tenth time, that’s all he said.’ Emily closed her eyes and flopped back on the bed, seriously doubting the wisdom of calling her sister in the hope that she’d be able to shed some light on the situation.

‘How did he say it?’

An image of Luke’s face just before he marched off floated into her head. ‘Kind of neutral. Expressionless. Blank. What do you think he meant?’

‘Who knows? It could be anything from That was fantastic and I’m in danger of falling head over heels in love with this woman—’

Emily’s heart lurched for a second. ‘Rather unlikely, don’t you think?’

‘—to God, I pity you. Your kissing technique is diabolical.’

Emily groaned and clapped a hand over her eyes. As far as she could remember—and she’d relived the experience a hundred times in the past hour or so—his technique had been perfect. Whether hers had been any good was anyone’s guess. She’d lost her mind and any finesse the moment their mouths had met. ‘I’m rather hoping it was What the hell are we thinking of, two grown adults kissing like frenzied teenagers in a hotel lobby in full view of a dozen people?’

‘Perhaps we’ll never know. How is the hotel, by the way?’

Emily sat up and surveyed her room. ‘Amazing. Forget a cat, you could swing a pride of lions in here. Thank you for booking it.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Guess what’s on the balcony.’

‘Hmm, let me think. A table? Chairs? A couple of wilting pot plants?’

‘A hot tub.’

‘Big enough for two?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Her imagination had come up with some pretty racy scenarios involving her and Luke, with little clothing and lots of bubbles. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the memory of Luke’s mouth moving over hers, warm and firm, his taste, his smell, the feel of his body crushing hers...

‘Remember that at the wedding. You’re clearly on a roll. You might get lucky.’

‘What wedding?’ asked Emily dreamily.

‘Er, tomorrow?’ Anna’s tone sharpened. ‘Don’t even think about not going. If you do, I’ll cancel my credit card and you’ll be landed with the hotel bill.’

Emily sat up. ‘Oh, I’m going. I’m definitely going. Luke’s coming with me.’

She had to hold her mobile away from her ear as her sister let out a very unlike-Anna squeal.

She frowned. ‘At least that was the plan. After the “Oh, dear” episode I’m not sure whether he’ll turn up.’

‘Of course he will. He’s a man of his word.’

‘How on earth do you figure that?’

‘He turned up to take you to France, didn’t he? He’ll be there tomorrow. And when he is, you can ask him what he meant.’

But did she want to know? That was the question that had been swirling around Emily’s head for the past twenty-four hours. Their kiss had replayed in her mind all night. Her response to Luke was overwhelming. How could she react like this to a man she’d only just met and barely knew? For the first time in her life she was at the mercy of an extraordinary attraction that was as unsettling as it was exciting. This, plus the steamy thoughts generated by the discovery of a complimentary box of condoms in a bathroom cupboard, had made her toss and turn until she’d finally given up and gone to pound her restlessness out in the pool.

At least the hotel beautician had managed to cover up the worst of the grey circles under her eyes, and the hairdresser had sorted her hair out so that her feather fascinator looked as though it did actually belong where it was.

Her sister had packed well, thought Emily, slipping into the dress she’d worn to Anna and David’s wedding. A dress which had earned compliments from everyone except Tom. She should have realised something wasn’t quite right between the two of them way back then.

She thrust her feet into gold strappy sandals and glanced at her watch. Quarter to three. Her hands were trembling as they fumbled with the straps. The butterflies in her stomach were clamouring to escape. She wasn’t sure quite what her nerves were for. The wedding, or coming face to face with Luke? Both probably.