There’s nowhere to hide from their chemistry…

Stacey has worked hard to become a successful businesswoman. She won’t let anyone—even frustratingly sexy tycoon Lucas Da Silva—remind her of the overlooked girl she once was.

Carrying responsibility for his worldwide company and siblings, Lucas is always in control. Especially of himself. But snowbound with Stacey, his best friend’s untouched—and very off-limits!—sister, he discovers temptation like no other. And as their mutual attraction grows hotter than the fire in his luxurious mountain chalet, Lucas has never been so close to breaking the rules…

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon style, they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis or gallops through the countryside, singing loudly.

Also by Susan Stephens

A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper

The Sicilian’s Defiant Virgin

The Secret Kept from the Greek

A Night of Royal Consequences

The Sheikh’s Shock Child

Pregnant by the Desert King

The Greek’s Virgin Temptation

Passion in Paradise collection

A Scandalous Midnight in Madrid

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Snowbound with His Forbidden Innocent

Susan Stephens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08850-3

SNOWBOUND WITH HIS FORBIDDEN INNOCENT

© 2019 Susan Stephens

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Note to Readers

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For Vic,

editor extraordinaire,

who makes the compulsion of writing

such an absolute pleasure.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

PARTIES BORED HIM. He didn’t want to go to tonight’s jamboree, but his guests expected it. Ambassadors, celebrities, and royalty who craved the Da Silva glitter expected to see the head of the company and to feast at his table.

He took the short route to the ballroom via his private elevator. Senses firing on full alert, he was on his way to check every single element organised by the company he’d hired to run the event, and woe betide Party Planners if anything fell short of his expectations.

Why should it? Party Planners was reputed to be the best in the business or he wouldn’t have signed off on his people hiring them. There was just one fly in that very expensive ointment. Having assumed responsibility for the event last minute when the principal of the company, Lady Sarah, had been taken ill, his best friend Niahl’s kid sister, Stacey, had taken over responsibility for running his banquet in Barcelona. And, in the biggest surprise of all, his people had assured him that Stacey was now considered to be the best party planner in the business.

It was five years since he’d last seen Niahl’s sister at another Party Planners event, where she hadn’t exactly filled him with confidence. In fairness, she’d just started work for the company and a lot could happen in five years. On that particular occasion she’d been rushing around trying to help, spilling drinks left right and centre, in what to him, back then, had been typical Stacey. But of course his memories were of a young teenager whom he’d first met when Niahl had invited him home from university to visit their family stud farm. Niahl, Stacey and he had lived and breathed horses, and when he’d seen the quality of the animals their father was breeding, he’d determined to have his own string one day. Today he was lucky enough to be one of the foremost owners of racehorses and polo ponies in the world.

His thoughts soon strayed back to Stacey. He was curious about her, and how the change in her had occurred. She’d always tried to help, and had been slapped down for it at home, so it wasn’t a surprise to him when he heard she’d gravitated towards the hospitality industry. He hoped she’d found happiness and guessed she had. She’d found none at home, where her father and his new wife had treated her like an indentured servant. No matter how hard she’d tried to please, Stacey had always been blamed, and in anyone’s hearing, for the death of her mother in childbirth when she was born. No child should suffer that.

Niahl had told him that as soon as she’d been old enough and the opportunity had presented itself, Stacey had left home. All she’d ever wanted, Niahl added, was to care for people and make them happy, no doubt in the hope that one day someone might appreciate her, as her father never had.

He shrugged as the elevator descended from the penthouse floor and his thoughts continued to run over the past five years. Stacey had obviously gone quite a way in her career, but he wondered about her personal life. He didn’t want to ponder it too deeply. She’d been so fresh and innocent and he couldn’t bring himself to think about her with men. He smiled, remembering her teenage crush on him. He’d never let on that he knew, but it was hard to forget that kiss in the stable when she’d lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck like a vice. Touching his lips where stubble was already springing sharp and black, he found the memory was as strong now as it ever had been. The yielding softness of her breasts pressing against the hard planes of his chest had never left his mind. Thinking back on it made him hard. Which was wrong. Stacey Winner was forbidden fruit. Too young, too gauche, too close to home, and a royal argumentative pain in the ass.

Stacey was the reason he’d visited the farm. Supposedly he’d been there to look at the horses he’d longed to buy one day when he’d made some money, but once he’d met her he hadn’t been able to stay away. She’d kept throwing down the gauntlet, and he’d kept picking it up. She’d invigorated him, kept him alive, when the grief that had threatened to overwhelm him had become unbearable. He’d never shared his feelings with her—never shared his feelings with anyone. Nobody had suspected the battle going on inside Lucas except perhaps for Niahl, but Niahl was a good friend whereas Stacey had just liked to torment him.

He wasn’t short of cash now, and could buy all the horses he liked. Some had come from their farm—whatever else he was, Stacey’s father knew his horseflesh—and had gone on to become winners, or to earn fortunes at stud. The tech company Luc had founded in his bedroom as a desperate measure to pay off his parents’ debts went from strength to strength. Money kept pouring in. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.

Determined to support his siblings when their parents had been killed in a tragic accident and the bank had called in his parents’ loans, he’d used an ancient computer to put together a program that traced bloodlines of horses across the world. One programme had led to another until Da Silva Inc had offices in every major capital, but his first love remained horses and the wild foothills of the Sierra Nevada where the animals thrived on his estancia.

As the elevator slowed to a halt, and the steel door slid open with a muted hiss, he stepped out on the ballroom level. He couldn’t help but be aware of the interest he provoked. Da Silva Inc was now a top company. Thanks to his talent for tech, and with desperation driving him forwards, he was the owner of all he surveyed, including this hotel. But it was not his natural habitat. Staring at the glittering scene beyond the grand double doors leading into the ballroom, he wished he were riding the trail, but this lavish banquet was an opportunity for him to thank his staff, and to raise money from the great and good for an array of well-deserving charities. No matter that he was already uncomfortable in his custom-made suit, with the stiff white collar of his shirt cutting into his neck and the black tie he’d fastened while snarling into the mirror strangling him, he would move heaven and earth to make tonight a success. Untying the bow tie, he opened the top button of his shirt and cracked his neck with pleasure. There had to be some compensations for running the show, though he longed for the freedom of the trail and a flat-out gallop.

He scanned the bustling space, but while his eyes clocked mundane details, his mind was fixed on finding Stacey. What differences would five years have made? His people had dealt with the minutiae of the contract and briefing meetings so there’d been no reason for him to get involved. He hoped she was happy. She was certainly successful. But how would she behave towards him? Would she be reserved now she was older and presumably wiser, or would that demon glint still flare in her eyes? Part of him hoped for the latter, but his guests deserved a calm, well-run evening with no drama to ruffle their expensive feathers. He’d called her room, but there’d been no answer. The party was almost due to begin. She should be here… So where was she?

He quartered the ballroom, pacing like a hunting wolf with its senses raw and flaring. Guests were starting to arrive. Curious glances came his way. Some women took an involuntary step back, fearing his reputation, while others, attracted to danger, gave him signals as old as time. They meant nothing to him. His only ambition had ever been to blank his mind to the horror of his parents’ death, and then to care for his siblings. He had no time for romance, and no need of it, either. His business had brought him wealth beyond imagining, which made any and all distractions available, though horses remained the love of his life. A string of high-profile, though ultimately meaningless, affairs were useful in that they allowed him not to dwell too deeply on himself.

As he passed the bar he remembered the last time he and Stacey had met. She’d knocked a drink over his companion by accident, costing him a replacement couture gown. He hadn’t troubled her with the detail, as Stacey had very kindly offered to have the dress cleaned. Naturally that hadn’t suited the woman on his arm at the time, who had seen the incident as an opportunity to add to her greedy haul. It had certainly proved a necessary wake-up call for him. He’d arranged for his PA to deliver the usual pay-off to the woman in the form of an expensive jewel, delivered the next morning, together with a new, far more expensive dress.

Why had fate chosen to put Stacey in his way again?

Or had he put her in his way? His people worked on the finer details of an event, but it was up to him to okay the contract. With a short cynical laugh, he acknowledged that he missed their verbal jousting. No one stood up to him as Stacey did, and he was weary of being fawned over. He craved her stimulating presence, even though she used to drive him crazy with the tricks she played on him at the farm. He missed the looks that passed between them and the electricity that sparked whenever they were close. It was ironic that a man who could buy anything couldn’t buy the one thing he wanted: a few moments of her time.

Money meant nothing to Stacey. She’d proved that on the day he’d bought her favourite horse. He hadn’t realised when her father had offered him the promising colt that the animal had meant so much to Stacey. When transport had arrived to take the horse to his estancia in Spain, he’d offered Stacey the same money he’d paid her father if she would just stop crying. He couldn’t have said anything to annoy her more, and she’d flung everything she could get her hands on at him. It had done him no good at all to point out that the money would pay her college fees.

‘I hate you!’ she’d screamed. ‘You don’t know anything about love. All you care about is money!’ That had hurt because he did know about love. The pain of losing his parents never left him, though he rarely examined that grief, knowing it might swamp him if he did. ‘If you hurt Ludo, I’ll kill you!’ she’d vowed. Staring into Stacey’s wounded green eyes, he’d understood the anguish of someone who relied on a madcap brother and a horse for affection; she was losing one of them, when she couldn’t afford to lose either.

‘Is everything to your satisfaction, Señor Da Silva?’

He swung around to find the hotel manager hovering anxiously behind him. Such was the power Da Silva Inc wielded that however he tried to make things easy for people they literally trembled at the thought of letting him down.

‘If anything falls short in your eyes, Señor Da Silva—’ the manager wrung his hands at the thought ‘—my staff will quickly make it right for you, though I have to say Party Planners has excelled itself. I can’t remember any big event we’ve held here running quite so smoothly.’

‘Thank you for the reassurance, señor,’ Lucas returned politely. ‘I was just thinking the same thing.’ As there was still no sign of Stacey, he asked, ‘The team leader of Party Planners—have you seen her?’

‘Ah, yes, señor. Señorita Winner is in the kitchen checking last-minute details.’

The manager looked relieved that he had finally been of help, and Lucas gave his arm a reassuring pat. ‘You and your staff are top class, and I know you will give the party planners every assistance.’

Why hadn’t she come to find him? He ground his jaw as the manager hurried away. Surely the client was important too?

So thinks a man who hasn’t given Stacey’s whereabouts or well-being a passing thought for the past five years, he mused. And yet now I expect her to dance attendance on me?

Frankly, yes. Da Silva Inc was everyone’s most valuable account. To be associated with his company was considered a seal of quality, as well as a guarantee of future success. She should be thanking him, not avoiding him.

Was that his problem? Or was it picturing Stacey as she might be now, a worldly and experienced woman, socially and sexually confident in any setting?

That might be grating on his tetchy psyche, he conceded grudgingly. She’d always had her own mind, and would no doubt appear when she was ready, and not a moment before. And if he didn’t know what to expect, at least he knew what he wanted.

He wanted the wild child Stacey had been as a teenager, the woman who could be infuriating one minute and then caring and tender the next. He wanted all of her and he wanted her now, for, as frustratingly defiant as Stacey was, she could light up a room. Every other woman present would fall short because of her.

Irritating, impossible to ignore, beautiful, vulnerable Stacey…

And that vulnerability was the very reason he couldn’t have her. She’d been through enough. He was no saint. No comfort blanket, either. He was a hard-bitten businessman with ice where his heart used to live, who only cared for his siblings, his staff, and the charities he supported. Beyond that was a vast, uncharted region he had no intention of exploring.

By the time he reached the kitchen he had convinced himself that it would be better if he didn’t see Stacey. There’d be no chance to stand and chat, and a man of his appetite shouldn’t contemplate toying with the sister of his friend. Instead, he sought distraction in the winter wonderland she had created in the ballroom. A champagne fountain, its glasses seemingly precariously balanced, reached all the way to the mezzanine floor. Ice carvers were putting the finishing touches to their life-sized sculptures of horses and riders, while in another corner there was an ice bar—which perfectly suited his mood—where cocktail waiters defied gravity as they practised tossing their bottles about. Turning, he viewed the circular dance floor around which tables were dressed for a lavish banquet. The best chefs in the world would cook for his guests, and had competed for the honour of being chosen for this privilege. Heavy carved crystal glasses sat atop crisp white linen waiting to be filled with vintage wines and champagne, while a forest of candles lit the scene. His chosen colour scheme of green and white had been executed to perfection. The floral displays were both extravagant and stylish. Wait staff had assembled, and the orchestra was tuning up. An excited tension filled the ballroom, promising a night to remember.

Like a finely bred horse held on a short rein, everything around him was on the point of leaping into action. Except his libido, he conceded with a twist of his lips, which he would stamp on tonight.

Everything was on the point of being ready. Stacey loved this moment just before the starting gun went off. She was still dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, ready to help out wherever she could, but she wanted to be showered and dressed as elegantly as she could to witness the excitement of the guests when they saw the room for the first time, and feel the tension of the hard-working chefs and staff as they waited for service to begin. She found this early atmosphere at any event infectious. It always sent a frisson of anticipation rippling down her spine, though tonight that frisson was more of an earthquake at the thought of seeing Lucas again. She couldn’t wait to prove herself, and show what the team could do. She wanted him to know that she’d made it—perhaps not to his level in the financial sense, but she could do this and, more importantly, she loved doing this. What the Da Silva people couldn’t know was that Lady Sarah, the owner of Party Planners, had been taken ill and the bank was threatening to foreclose, but if Stacey could keep things on an even keel tonight, and secure the next contract with Da Silva, the bank had promised to back off. They wouldn’t lose the Da Silva account, of that she was grimly determined. The team had worked too hard. If anything did go wrong, she would take responsibility.

Coming face to face with the man who’d given her so many sleepless nights when she was a teenager was something else. It should have been easy, as she’d kept track of Lucas through Niahl and through the press. Lucas was frequently pictured with this princess or that celebrity, always looking glorious but elegantly bored. He’d never had much time for glitz, she remembered. Would he be with someone tonight? She tensed at the thought.

She couldn’t bear it.

She had to bear it.

Lucas didn’t belong to her and never had. He was her brother’s friend, and he and Niahl moved in very different circles. Stacey had always been happiest on the ground floor, grafting alongside her co-workers, while Lucas preferred an ivory tower—just so long as there was a stable close by.

Spirits were high when the Party Planners team assembled for a last-minute briefing in the office adjacent to the ballroom. This was a glamorous and exciting occasion, and, even in a packed diary of similar glamorous and exciting occasions, the Da Silva party stood out, mainly because the owner and founder of the company was in the building. There wasn’t a single member of the team who hadn’t heard about Lucas Da Silva, or wondered what he was like in person. His prowess in business was common knowledge, as was his blistering talent on the polo field, together with his uncanny ability to train and bring on winning racehorses. Everyone was buzzing at the thought of seeing him, even from a distance, and that included Stacey.

Would she stand up to him as she had in the past?

Would she toss a drink over his date if he had one?

Resist! That’s just nerves talking.

Or would their client relationship get in the way of all that? The only thing that mattered, she reminded herself firmly, was proving to Lucas that she and the team were the best people for this job.

Her first sight of Lucas Da Silva sucked the air from her lungs. At least he was alone, with no companion in sight. Yet. Whatever she’d been expecting, pictured or imagined, nothing came close to how Luc looked now. Hot back in the day in breeches or a pair of old jeans he was unbelievably attractive in a formal dinner suit. And five years had done him favours. Taller than average, he was even more compelling. Age had added gravitas to his quiver of assets. Dressed impeccably with black diamonds glittering at his cuffs, he’d left one button open on his shirt and wore his bow tie slung around his neck. Only Lucas, she mused with a short, rueful laugh. Built like a gladiator, with shoulders wide enough to hoist an ox, he exuded the type of dangerous glamour that had every woman present attempting to attract his attention. With the exception of Stacey, for whom familiarity had bred frustrated acceptance that Lucas probably still thought of her as the annoying younger sister of his friend.

She recognised the expression of tolerance mixed with tamped-down fire on his face, and knew what had caused it. Lucas was happiest mounted on the strongest stallion, testing the animal, testing himself. This easy life of unsurpassed luxury and entitlement was not for him, not really—he paid lip service to the world into which his tech savvy had launched him. Having said that, he’d look amazing no matter whether his bow tie was neatly tied or hanging loose—probably best wearing nothing at all, though she would be wise not to allow her thoughts to stray in that direction. It was enough to say the pictures in magazines didn’t come close to doing him justice. Power emanated from him. As she watched him work the room, she could imagine sparks of testosterone firing off him like rockets on the fourth of July.

Yes, he was formidable, but she had a job to do. She would welcome him to the event, and be ready to take any criticism he might care to offer, and then act on it immediately. She had to secure that next contract. The annual Da Silva event in the mountains was even bigger than this banquet but when news leaked, as it surely would, that Lady Sarah was ill, would Lucas trust Stacey to take her place?

He had to. She’d make sure of it any way she could.

As the team left to complete their various tasks, Stacey had a moment to think. Her thoughts turned to the man her gaze was following around the ballroom. Forget five years ago when she’d been a blundering intern, trying her best and achieving her worst by spilling a drink down his date, all she could think about was that kiss…that almost kiss, when her feelings had triumphed over her rational mind. Teenage hormones had played a part, but that couldn’t be the whole story or why would she feel now that if she had Lucas boxed in a corner she’d do exactly the same thing? She was a woman, not a flush-faced teen, and she had appetites like everyone else.

She broke off there to go and check that there was enough champagne on ice, with more crates waiting to fill the spaces in the chiller as soon as the first batch had left for the tables. It was inevitable as she worked that she thought about Lucas. He’d been there the day she’d decided to leave home, and had played a large part in her decision. She’d felt very differently about him on that occasion, and tightened her mouth now at the memory. He’d found her in the stable saying goodbye to the colt she’d cared for all its lively, spirited, magical life. She could even remember looking around, heart racing, thinking Lucas had come to tell her that he’d changed his mind and that she could keep Ludo, but instead he’d offered her money. What had hurt even more was that he’d understood so little about her. If he’d thought cold cash could replace a beloved animal, he hadn’t known her at all. Her father had promised he would never sell Ludo. They’d breed from him, he’d said. But he’d lied.

She’d learned later that Lucas hadn’t realised Ludo was her horse when he’d made the offer, but her father had sold him on without even telling her. That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. She’d been thinking about leaving the restrictions of the farm, and after that there had been no reason to stay. The only way she could ever keep an animal was by funding it herself, and to do that she had to study and gain qualifications. A career was the only route to independence.

She gave those members of the team dealing with the supply of drinks the go-ahead to stack the extra cases of champagne out of the way but close by the chiller ready to reload, and joined them in moving the heavy boxes. Lucas wasn’t to blame for her decision to leave home, she reflected as she got into the rhythm of lift, carry and lower. Actually, she should thank him. This was a great job, and she had fantastic co-workers. Even out of sight of the ballroom the atmosphere was upbeat and positive.

What a contrast to life on the farm, she reflected as she gave everyone their official half-hour notice to the doors opening to the Da Silva guests. Everyone here supported each other and remained upbeat. Whatever challenges they might face, they faced together. She was happy here amongst friends. Her father had never liked her, and his new wife liked Stacey even less. With Ludo gone there had been no reason not to leave the isolated farm. It had been a chance to test herself in the big city, and now she was a professional woman with a job to do, Stacey reminded herself as she hurried back to the ballroom on another mission. She’d do everything she could to keep Lucas happy tonight and Party Planners in business. She’d prove herself to him, in the business sense, that was—not that Lucas had ever shown the slightest interest in any other kind of relationship with her, she reflected wryly.

She was halfway across the dance floor when a member of the team stopped her to say that some of the guests were swapping around the place cards on the tables so they could sit closer to Señor Da Silva.

‘Right,’ Stacey said, firming her jaw. ‘Leave this to me.’ They’d spent hours on the seating plan. A strict order of hierarchy had to be observed at these events, as it was all too easy to cause offence. Her guess was that Lucas wouldn’t care where he sat, but his guests would.

By the time she had set things to rights there was no sign of him. Her stomach clenched with tension, requiring her to silently reinforce the message that when they met she would assume her customary cool, professional persona. It was important to keep on his right side to make sure he didn’t pull the next contract.

Which didn’t mean the right side of his bed, she informed her disappointed body firmly.

CHAPTER TWO

HE BROODED WITH irritation as he caught sight of Stacey hurrying around the ballroom without once glancing his way. Dressed casually, with no make-up on her face and her hair scraped back, she still looked punch-in-the-gut beautiful to him. The run-up to any event was hectic, but that didn’t excuse her not seeking him out. Am I the client, or am I not?

She’s busy. Isn’t that what you want and expect of a party planner in the hour before your guests arrive?

He drew a steadying breath. For once in his charmed life what he wanted and what he could have were facing each other across a great divide. He shrugged. So he’d close that gap.

At last she was back in her room, safe in the knowledge that she and the team had every aspect of the night ahead covered between them. With very little time to review her choice of gown it was lucky she’d made her decision earlier. Seeing Lucas again had shaken her to the core. When he wasn’t in her life she thought about him constantly, and now he was here, a real physical presence in this same building, she couldn’t think of anything else, and she had to, she must. The only thing she must think about tonight was the work she loved.

Closing her eyes, she blew out a shaky breath. She had a phone call to make, and needed her wits about her to do that. Since Lady Sarah had put her in charge of running the Da Silva account, Stacey had established an excellent working relationship with the top people at Da Silva and wanted to give them a heads-up to make sure she wasn’t treading on any toes when she told Lucas she’d also be running his party in the mountains. It was no use burying her head in the sand. He had to know, and she had to be the one to tell him, and the sooner the better.

Her counterpart greeted her warmly, and listened carefully before admitting that, just as Stacey had suspected, they’d seen no reason to trouble Lucas with the fact that Stacey was in charge of his big annual event in the mountains. Lady Sarah’s word was good enough for them. ‘We haven’t kept it a secret,’ the woman explained. ‘He doesn’t appreciate gossip, and expects us to get on with things, so there was no reason to trouble him with the fact that Lady Sarah is unwell, and you’re taking over.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Stacey admitted. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.’

‘No other problems?’

‘None,’ she confirmed, wishing that were true. She could pretend to other people, but not to herself, and Lucas coming back into her world had changed everything.

The outfit she’d put together was stylish enough to blend into the sophisticated crowd, yet discreet, so it wouldn’t clash in colour or style with anything one of the high-profile guests might choose to wear. A limited budget had confined her choices to the high street, but she’d been lucky enough to find some great buys on the sale rails of a famous store, including this simple column of lightweight cream silk. Ankle length, the gown reached just above the nude pumps she’d chosen to take her through the night, knowing she’d be on her feet for most if not all of the evening. The neckline was discreet, and boasted a collar and lapel that gave the elegant sheath a passing nod to a business suit. Having tamed her wild red curls into a simple updo, she tucked a slim radio into her understated evening clutch, swung a lanyard around her neck to make sure she was easily identifiable, and, having checked her lip gloss, she spritzed on some scent and headed out.

She checked her watch as she stepped into the elevator. Perfect timing. Her heart was racing—and not just with excitement at the thought of the impending party. Would Lucas feel anything when he saw her? No, she concluded with a wry, accepting curve of her mouth. He’d be as smoulderingly unconcerned as ever. But that didn’t stop her pulse spiking at the thought of seeing him again.

His first meet with Stacey did not go as he had expected. He cut her off in the ballroom, where, typically, she was rushing about.

‘I’m sorry, Lucas, but I can’t stop to talk now—’

‘I beg your pardon?’ He jerked his head back with surprise. ‘Is that all I get?’

She stood poised for flight. ‘After five long years?’ she suggested, her eyes searching his. Professional or not, she’d always been a participant, never afraid to take on a challenge, rather than a person content to laze on the benches. He took some consolation from the fact that those beautiful green eyes had darkened, and her breath was both audible and fast. ‘Are you run off your feet?’ he suggested dryly as she snatched a breath.

She was smart and knew at once what he meant. ‘I’m quite calm,’ she assured him with the lift of one elegant brow, as if to say, You don’t faze me, and swiftly following on with, Not everyone falls at your feet. Then professionalism kicked in. Fully aware that she was speaking to a client, she hit him with an old memory. ‘You don’t need to worry about drinks going flying tonight.’

‘Do I need to worry about anything else?’ he queried, staring down into her crystal-clear gaze.

She held her breath and then released it. ‘No,’ she said with confidence. ‘Good to see you, Lucas,’ she added as a prelude to dashing off. ‘You look well.’

‘You look flushed.’

‘The heat in here—’

He pinned a frown to his face. ‘If the air con isn’t up to the job—’

‘It is,’ she flashed.

‘Then…?’

‘Then, I have to get on.’

He smiled faintly. ‘Don’t let me stop you…’

‘You won’t,’ she assured him, and was he imagining it, or were her shoulders tense with awareness as she hurried away?

A member of staff attracted her attention and Stacey moved on to sort out another problem, leaving him in the unusual position of standing watching the action, rather than directing it. And he wanted more. A lot more. Those scant few minutes hadn’t been enough. Had they been enough for Stacey? Her eyes suggested not, but dedication to her job clearly overruled her personal feelings, leaving him more frustrated than he could remember. Did she feel the same? She didn’t glance back once.

She couldn’t just walk away.

But she had.

The last time he’d looked in the mirror Lucas Da Silva had stared back. He was supposed to give the rain check, not Stacey. He huffed with grim amusement. She clearly hadn’t read the rulebook. That must have gone out of the window when she left the farm—not that she’d been easy then. Stacey Winner had always been a piece of work. And looked amazing, he conceded as he followed her progress around the ballroom, trying not to think of her moaning in his arms and begging for more. Her carefully arranged hair was still damp from the shower and her make-up was simple, but she’d undergone a complete transformation from casual tee shirt and jeans into an elegant, ankle-length gown of cream silk that moulded her lush form with loving attention to detail. He watched as she stopped to reassure a member of staff with her arm around the woman’s shoulders. As soon as the team member returned to her duties he made his move. There was no reason why Stacey couldn’t speak to him now.

She had survived the first encounter with Lucas. Doing a little happy dance inside, she was a little breathless and a lot shaken up, but…I survived! And felt a little proud at the thought that she had managed to revive the old banter they used to share on the farm, yet had maintained a reasonable balance between her personal and her professional persona. At least, she hoped she had, Stacey reflected as she glanced across at Lucas, who was speaking to members of the band. Seeing him from a distance like this was bad enough, she mused, moving on. Standing close enough to touch him was a torment with no parole. He was like a force field, threatening to suck her in and turn her brain to jelly and she couldn’t afford to have that happen tonight.

‘Stacey.’

‘Lucas!’

He was right behind her. And it happened again. Her brain turned to mush, while her feet appeared to be welded to the spot. Forcing herself into a professional frame of mind, she focused on the job in hand. ‘The doors will open in a few minutes,’ she exclaimed brightly as he opened his mouth to say something, and then she slipped away.

Cursing beneath his breath, he determined they would spend time together. Admittedly that was difficult for her now, but it wouldn’t always be so.

He was too used to everything being easy, he supposed, to women staring at him with lust in their eyes and dollar signs. Stacey was different. She was a novelty. Novelty was the most valuable possession a wealthy man could have.

Hard luck, he reflected with grim amusement. As far as he could tell, there was nothing in Stacey’s expression but passion for her work, and determination to make tonight a success.

Left to stand and stare as she moved around the glittering ballroom like a rather glamorous automaton on wheels, he ground his jaw and, with an exclamation born of pure frustration, he left to take up his role as host. Seeing Stacey again had roused feelings inside him he wouldn’t have believed himself capable of, and there was only one thing to cure that. And then she turned to stare at him, still with no hint of lust or dollar signs in her eyes, but instead they seemed to say, ‘What do you think of this fabulous setting? Hasn’t the team worked hard?’

Infuriating woman. This wasn’t the farm, and she was no longer the teenager playing tricks on her brother’s friend. Had she forgotten that he was the client, and it was he who was paying the bill? Then, right out of the blue, there it was, the flash of mischief in her eyes, the demon glint he remembered. Shaking his head, he returned that look with a dark, warning glance, but his irritation had melted away.

She rewarded him with a smile so engaging he wanted to have her on the spot. His timing was definitely out. The grand double doors had just opened and his guests were pouring in. Forced to banish his physical reaction to Stacey by sheer force of will, he gave himself a sharp reminder that she had never been in awe of him. He could stand on his dignity as much as he liked and all she would do was smile back.

From the first time Niahl had brought him home to trial the ponies on the farm, Stacey had tested him. Daring him to ride their wildest horse, she would jump down from the fence where she was perched, seemingly uninterested, and walk away when the animal responded to his firm, yet sympathetic hand. She was fearless on horseback, and had often attempted to outride him. ‘Anything’s possible,’ she’d tell him stubbornly as she trotted into the yard after him. ‘I’ll get you next time.’ She never gave up, and became increasingly ingenious when it came to stopping him buying her favourite ponies. ‘You’ll be far too demanding,’ she’d say, blushing because she knew this was a lie. ‘You’ll break their spirit.’ The ponies in question, according to Stacey, were variously winded or lame, and would almost certainly disappoint him in every way. These supposed facts she would state with her big green eyes wide open, and as soon as she got the chance she’d free the animals from their stable and shoo them into the wild, forcing him and her brother to round them up again. Everyone but him had been surprised when she left home. He suspected her father had been relieved. His new wife had made no secret of her relief. She’d never liked Stacey. Perhaps only Lucas and Niahl had appreciated the courage it had taken for Stacey to seek out a new life in the big city when she’d barely travelled more than five miles from the farm.

She’d always loved a challenge. So did he, he reflected as he watched Stacey greet the first of his guests. He leaned back against the wall as she guided the various luminaries to their places. She did this with charm and grace, making his high-tone guests look clumsy. Stacey Winner was as intriguing as the wild ponies he loved to ride. It didn’t hurt that she looked fabulous tonight. Simplicity was everything in his eyes. True glamour meant appreciating what nature had bestowed and making the most of it, and she’d done this to perfection. Compared to Stacey, every woman in the place appeared contrived, overdressed, shrill. They failed to hold his attention, while Stacey, with her gleaming hair and can-do attitude, was everything he’d been waiting for.

And couldn’t have, he reminded himself as his tightening groin ached a warning. Stacey Winner was forbidden fruit. His life was fast-moving with no room for passengers. She was Niahl’s beloved kid sister, and he had no intention of risking his friendship with Niahl.

As if she knew the path his thoughts were taking, Stacey glanced his way, then swung away fast. Was she blushing? Did he affect her as she affected him? Should he care? Only one thing was certain: beneath the professional shell she had developed over the past five years, the same fire burned. She was just better at hiding it.

But uncovering that passion and watching it break free was a pleasure he would never know.

While he’d been studying Stacey, the ballroom had filled up. The smiles on the faces of his guests confirmed what he already knew. Party Planners had done a great job. He returned Stacey’s glance with a shrug and a stare full of irony that said, Well done.

Watch me, the demon glint insisted. I’m not done yet.

Oh, he would. How could he not, when the gown she was wearing displayed every luscious curve, and though her flamboyant red hair had been tamed for the evening it wouldn’t take much to pull out those pins to fist a hank and kiss her neck? The hairstyle flaunted cheekbones he hadn’t even realised existed. Maybe they hadn’t existed five years ago. Maybe a lot of things had changed in five years. He felt a spear of jealousy to think of some man—maybe men—touching her. Which was ridiculous when she would never be his.

Smoothing his hackles back down again, he continued his inspection. It was Stacey’s quiet confidence that impressed him the most, he decided. That and the glaringly obvious—that she was classy and stylish with a particular brand of humour that appealed to him.

Avoiding close contact with Stacey was a must, he accepted with a grim twist to his mouth. His party in the mountains was a no-go if he wanted to keep things platonic between them. He was a man, not a saint.

A fact that was proved the very next moment when he noticed an elderly ambassador place his wizened paw on Stacey’s back. The urge to knock him away was overwhelming, which was ridiculous. He was more in control than that, surely?

Apparently not, he accepted as he strode across the ballroom? She was his. To protect, he amended swiftly, as he would protect any woman in the same situation.

By the time he reached Stacey, she had skilfully evaded the aging satyr and moved on, but no sooner had she extricated herself from one difficult situation than she was confronted by another in the form of a notoriously difficult film star. The prima donna had already laid waste to several junior members of the Party Planners team by the time Stacey reached the tense group. With a quick kind word to her co-workers, she took over, making it clear that anything the woman wanted would be provided. The diva was already seated in the prized central spot where everyone could see and admire her, but there appeared to be something on the table that displeased her. Curious as to what this might be, he drew closer.

‘Remove that disgusting greenery,’ the woman instructed. ‘My people should have informed you that I’m allergic to foliage, and only white roses are acceptable on my table.’

Where exactly would she get white roses at this late stage? he wondered as Stacey soothed the woman, while discreetly giving instructions to a member of her team. Clearly determined to keep everything under control and to protect his other guests, she showed a steely front as she moved quickly into action.

‘Nothing is too much trouble for a VIP everyone is honoured to welcome,’ she assured the star. ‘I will personally ensure that this unfortunate error is put right immediately. In the meantime,’ she added, calling a waiter, ‘a magnum of vintage champagne for our guest. And perhaps you would like to meet Prince Albert of Villebourg sur Mer?’ she suggested to the now somewhat mollified celebrity.

As the diva’s eyes gleamed, he thought, Bravo, Stacey. And bravo a second time, he concluded wryly as an assistant hurried into the ballroom with a florist in tow. Stacey had not only arranged an exclusive photo shoot with the prince for her difficult guest, but had arranged for the orchestra to play the theme tune from the diva’s latest film, and while this was happening the original centrepiece was being replaced by one composed entirely of white roses.

A triumph, Señorita Winner! He was pleased for her. But—was he imagining it or had Stacey just stared at him with a ‘Now what have you got to say for yourself?’ smile? Whatever he thought he knew about Stacey, he realised he had a lot to learn, and she had made him impatient to fill in the gaps.

There would always be hitches, Stacey accepted as she continued with her duties. Solving those hitches was half the fun of the job. It pleased her to find answers, and to make people happy. And not just because Señor Iron Britches was in the room, though Luc rocked her world and made her body yearn each time their stares clashed. Formal wear suited him. Emphasising his height and the width of his shoulders, it gilded the darkly glittering glamour he was famous for. Though Luc looked just as good in a pair of banged-up jeans…or those shots of him in polo magazines wearing tight-fitting breeches… Better not think about tight-fitting breeches, or she wouldn’t get any work done. She had better things to do than admire a client’s butt.

In her defence, not every client had a butt like Lucas Da Silva.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE WASN’T GETTING away from him this time. He stepped in front of Stacey the first time their paths crossed. ‘Señorita Winner, I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.’

She looked at him wide-eyed. ‘Why would I do that?’

Her manner was as direct as ever, and held nothing more than professional interest. Opening her arms wide, she explained, ‘Forgive me. We’ve been very busy tonight, but I hope you’re pleased with what we’ve achieved so far?’

‘I am pleased,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve dealt with some difficult guests, defusing situations that could have disrupted other people’s enjoyment of the evening.’

Stacey shrugged. ‘I want everyone to enjoy themselves whoever they are. We all have different expectations.’

‘Indeed,’ he agreed, staring deep into her eyes.

She searched his as if expecting to find mockery there, and, finding none, she smiled. ‘Anyway, thank you for the compliment. I’ll accept it on behalf of the team. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have one more thing to check before the banquet begins.’

‘Which is?’ he queried.

‘I want to make sure that no one else has swapped around their place card to sit closer to you.’

He laughed. ‘Am I so much in demand?’

‘You know you are,’ she said with one of her classic withering looks.

‘But not with you, I take it?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.

‘Forget it.’ He made her a mock bow. ‘And thank you for protecting me.’

‘My pleasure,’ she assured him, on the point of hurrying away.

‘So, where am I sitting?’ he asked to keep her close a little longer.

‘Next to me.’ She held his surprised stare in an amused look of her own. ‘I thought you’d like that. You don’t have a companion tonight, and I’ve seated the princess on your other side. I’ll be on hand to run errands.’

‘You? Run errands?’ he queried suspiciously.

‘Yes. Like a PA, or an assistant,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘And you don’t mind that?’

‘Why should I? I’m here to work. If you’d rather I sat somewhere else—’

‘No,’ he said so fast he startled both of them. ‘I’m happy with the arrangements as they are.’

‘Then…’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’

‘Of course,’ he said with a slight dip of his head. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’

She didn’t see Lucas again until everyone was seated for the banquet and she finally took her place beside him. ‘I was only joking about sitting down,’ she explained as a waiter settled a napkin on her lap with a flourish. ‘I wasn’t sure if you had someone in mind to take this place, and now I don’t want to leave an empty seat beside you.’

‘That wouldn’t look good,’ Luc agreed. ‘Is that the only reason you came to sit next to me?’ He gave her a long, sideways look.

‘I can’t think of any other reason,’ she said, though she knew she had to broach the subject of Lady Sarah’s leave of absence.

‘You impressed me tonight.’

‘You mean the team impressed you tonight,’ she prompted.

‘I mean you.’

Luc’s tone was soft and husky and he held her gaze several beats too long. She took advantage of the moment to ask him, ‘Does that mean the next contract’s secure?’

He frowned. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me?’

He’d already heard, she guessed. Lucas hadn’t climbed the greasy pole of success without doing his research. She guessed he’d brought up her CV to check on her rise through the company, and would know the latest news on Party Planners, including the fact that Lady Sarah was ill. If she knew anything at all about Lucas Da Silva, she was prepared to bet he was on the case. ‘Only that Lady Sarah is unwell and has asked me to run this function as well as the next for you. Do you have a problem with that?’

‘A problem?’ Luc dipped his chin to fix her with a questioning stare.

‘The team has turned itself inside out for you, and will happily do so again.’

‘And I will thank them,’ he said.

‘But?’

‘You want assurances here and now?’

Before she could answer, a member of her team made a discreet gesture that would take Stacey away from the table. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.’

‘You’re not even going to stay long enough to test the food?’

‘I trust your chefs.’

‘That’s very good of you,’ Lucas commented dryly.

‘I trust you,’ she said, touching his arm to drive the point home.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t done that. It was as if she’d plugged her hand into an electric socket. Her fingers were actually tingling. What she should be asking herself was whether Lucas would trust her enough to let her run an event as important to his company as the annual escape to the mountains. To make matters worse, it now seemed their old connection was as strong as ever, and she couldn’t resist teasing him before leaving the table. ‘Would you like me to deliver the happy news to one of the placecard-swapping starlets that a seat has become available next to their host?’

‘You’ll do no such—!’

Damn the woman! She’d gone! And with a smile on her mouth that promised she could still give as good as she got. This was like being back on the farm, where for every trick Stacey played on him he paid her back. His hackles were bristling. And his groin was in torment. He huffed a humourless laugh. Perhaps he deserved this, deserved the demon glint in her eyes, deserved Stacey.

He was still mulling this over when a young woman he vaguely recognised from the polo circuit approached the empty seat next to him, and, with what she must have imagined was a winsome expression on her avaricious face, commented, ‘You look lonely.’

‘Do I?’ Standing as good manners demanded, he waited until she’d sat down and he’d introduced her to a handsome young diplomat in the next chair. ‘I was distracted,’ he explained, swiping a hand across his forehead. ‘And unfortunately, I’ve just been called away. Please forgive me.’ He summoned a waiter. ‘Champagne for my guests.’

He left the table with relief. Whatever kind of spin he’d put on saving Stacey from the excesses playing on a loop in his mind had evaporated. They couldn’t leave things here. Confrontation between them was a given. Why try to avoid it? He knew when to pull back, didn’t he? Maybe not, he reflected as he crossed the dance floor in search of the one woman he would consider dancing with tonight. His primal self had roared to the surface of his outwardly civilised veneer, and it wouldn’t take much to tip that over into passion. Stacey had given him more than enough reason. He wouldn’t sleep until they’d had it out.

Lucas had left the table. There was no sign of him. Had she offended him, thereby ruining Party Planners’ chances of securing the next contract? She would never forgive herself if that were the case. The couples on the dance floor were thinning out, but it would be a long time until she was off duty, because Stacey would stay until the last member of staff had left. There were always stragglers amongst the guests who couldn’t take the hint that the people who had worked so hard to give them a wonderful time would like to go home at some point. The band had been hired to play for as long as people wanted to dance and, while both wait staff and musicians looked exhausted, none of the guests had taken the hint. There was only one thing for it. Politely and firmly, she told those who seemed hardly to know where they were any longer that the next shift would soon be arriving to set up for breakfast, and that the cleaners needed to come in first, and then she stood by ready to shepherd every last partygoer out of the room.

That done, she returned. She’d helped to tidy up the kitchen, and now she made herself useful by checking beneath tables for forgotten items. A surprising number of things were left behind at well-lubricated parties.

Another job completed, she crawled out backwards from the last table. Straightening up, still on hands and knees, she groaned as she placed her hands in the small of her back.

‘Can I help you?’

She jerked around so fast at the sound of Lucas’s voice she almost fell over.

‘You all right?’ he asked, lunging forward to catch her before she hit the ground. Shaking him off, she gave him one of her looks. ‘I see nothing has changed. Still the same accident-prone Stacey,’ he suggested as she staggered to her feet.

‘Only when you’re around. You jinx me.’

‘Can I help?’

‘No, thank you. Just put a safe distance between us and I’ll be fine.’

‘As always,’ he observed. ‘The status quo must be maintained—Stacey is fine.’

‘I am fine,’ she insisted with an edge of tiredness in her tone.

‘Too tired to keep your professional mask on?’

‘Something like that,’ she admitted with a sigh.

He laughed, and maybe she was overtired, because the sight of that sexy mouth slanting attractively made her want to stop fighting and be friends.

‘You’ve done enough tonight,’ he stated firmly as she looked around for something else to do.

‘It’s my job.’

‘Your job is to dance with me,’ Luc argued to her astonishment. ‘Unless you decide to blatantly ignore a client request, in which case I’ll have no alternative other than to report you for being uncooperative.’

‘You are joking?’

‘Am I? Are you willing to take that risk?’

If this had been ten years ago, she would have challenged him all the way down the line, but she was sure she could see a glint of amusement in his eyes. And why was she fighting anyway? ‘You’re going to report me because I won’t dance with you?’ she suggested in a very different tone.

One sweeping ebony brow lifted. ‘Sounds fair to me.’

‘Everything you say sounds fair to you,’ she pointed out, but she was smiling. Luc did that to her. He warmed her when she was in her grumpiest mood, and tonight, looking at him, grumpy was the furthest thing from her mind. ‘You are definitely the most annoying man in the world,’ she told him.

As well as the most exciting.

‘And, thanks for the offer, but I have a lovely placid life and I intend to keep it that way.’

‘Boring, do you mean?’ Luc suggested, thumbing a chin shaded with stubble as if it were morning and he’d just got out of bed.

‘I do not mean boring,’ she countered, thoroughly thrown by the way her mind was working. ‘I like things just the way they are.’

Luc sucked in his cheeks and the expression in his eyes turned from lightly mocking to openly disbelieving. ‘You don’t stay still long enough to know what placid means.’ And then he shrugged and half turned, as if he meant to go.

She felt like a hunted doe granted an unexpected reprieve. Badly wanting to prolong the encounter, she was forced to admit that Luc scared her. They’d always had a love-hate relationship: love when they were with the animals they both cared so deeply for, and hate when she saw the easy way Luc wound everyone around his little finger, especially women, forcing teenage Stacey to grit her teeth and burn. How could she not appear gauche compared to the type of sophisticated woman he dated? If she took her clothes off, would she measure up, or would Luc mock her as he used to when she tried to outride him? She couldn’t bear it. And…if they had sex—heaven help her for even thinking that thought—she would surely make a fool of herself. Having made it her business to be clued up where most things were concerned, short of doing it, it wasn’t possible to be clued up about sex, especially with a six-foot-six rugby-playing brother standing in the wings to make sure no half-decent man got near her. When she’d left home for college she hadn’t found anyone to match up to Lucas, and the few dates she’d been on had put her off sex for life. Who knew that not everyone showered frequently, or had feet as sexy as she had discovered Luc’s were when the three of them used to go swimming in the river? And he wouldn’t have patience with a novice. Why should he, when the women she’d seen him with were so confident and knowing? Was it likely he’d give lessons? Hardly, she reflected as she followed his gaze around the room.

‘Staff shouldn’t be working this late,’ he said, turning to her. ‘That goes for you too. I’m going to send everyone home.’

‘Even me?’ she challenged lightly.

‘No. You’re going to stay and dance. Don’t move,’ he warned as he went to give the order.

Stacey had done her research and knew Lucas owned this hotel together with several more. He gave the word and came back to her. Everyone apart from a lone guitarist left the ballroom. When Luc returned, he explained that the musician had asked if he could stay on, as he had a flight to catch, and there was no point in going to bed.

‘He told me that he’d rather unwind by playing the melodies he loved than spending a few hours in his room, and I get that.’ Lucas shrugged. ‘I told him to stay as long as he likes. He’s not disturbing anyone. Certainly not us,’ he added with a long, penetrating look.

Us?

Okay. Get over that. Had she forgotten Luc’s love of music? He used to stream music for her to work to at the farmhouse. Maybe she’d added a special significance to the lyrics of the tunes he chose, but the music had helped her escape into another world where there were no grimy floors and dirty dishes. ‘I’d welcome anything that drowns out the sound of men’s voices,’ she would say.

And now?

‘Do you always get your way?’ she asked, biting her lip to curb a smile.

‘Invariably,’ Luc admitted, straight-faced. And then he laughed. They both laughed, and what they shared in those few unguarded moments was everything she could wish for: warmth, a past that needed no explanation, and acceptance that they’d both changed, and that life was better now.

‘So, why aren’t you in bed?’ she asked cheekily as the guitarist ended one tune and segued into another.

‘I should be,’ Luc agreed, but in a way that made her cheeks warm, and suddenly all she could think about was that thwarted kiss all those years ago. Would he push her away if she kissed him now?

‘Come on—tell me why you’re here.’

‘To see you,’ he admitted with a wicked look.

‘Me?’ She laughed, a little nervously now. It always amazed her how the old, uncertain Stacey could return to haunt her at emotionally charged moments like this.

‘Why are you so surprised?’ Luc asked, bursting her bubble. ‘I’m the host of a party you planned. Don’t you usually have a debriefing session?’

‘Not over a dance,’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

‘We’ve never danced together before.’

‘Let’s start a new tradition.’

His eyes were dark and smouldering, while she was most certainly not looking her best after the busiest of evenings. Was he mocking her? It wouldn’t be the first time. They’d mocked each other constantly when she was younger. ‘Me dance with you?’ she queried suspiciously.

Luc’s black stare swept the ballroom. ‘Do you see anyone else asking?’

‘This had better not be a pity dance,’ she warned.

‘A pity dance?’ he queried.

‘Yes, you know, when Niahl used to dance with me whenever I attended those balls you two used to rip up together?’

‘The cattle markets?’ Lucas frowned as he thumbed his stubble.

‘That’s what you called them back then,’ Stacey agreed.

‘What would you call groups of hopefuls with one end in sight?’

‘Sheep to the slaughter’

He laughed. ‘Of course you would.’

‘I was a poor little wallflower,’ she insisted, pulling a tragic face. ‘No one ever asked me to dance.’

‘I wouldn’t call you a wallflower. You were more of a thistle. No one wanted to dance with you because you scowled all the time. People want happy partners to have fun with.’

‘The type of fun it’s better to avoid,’ she suggested.

Lucas didn’t answer but his expression said that was a matter of opinion.

‘Anyway, I didn’t scowl,’ she insisted, ‘and if I had smiled as you suggest, Niahl would have gone ballistic. He never let anyone near me.’

‘Quite right,’ Lucas agreed, pretending to be stern while the corner of his mouth was twitching. ‘Your brother never liked to see you sitting at a loss, so he danced with you. I don’t see anything wrong with that.’

Stacey rolled her eyes. ‘Every girl’s dream is to dance with her brother, while he scans the room looking for someone he really wants to be with.’

‘You’re not at a loss now,’ Lucas said as he drew her to her feet.

‘It appears not,’ Stacey answered. She was amazed by how calm she could sound while her senses were rioting from Lucas’s firm grip alone. And now their faces were very close. She turned away. ‘I’m sure there must be something I should be doing instead of dancing.’

‘Yes,’ Lucas agreed. His wicked black eyes smiled a challenge deep into hers. ‘I plan to discuss that as we dance.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE WOULD DANCE and keep a sensible distance.

Lucas was so big, was that even possible?

Even his mouth was sexy, and, like a magnet, was drawing her in. And then there was his scent: warm, clean man, laced with citrus and sandalwood. Damn him for making her feel as if anything he had to say or do was fine by her. She should have stayed until she’d checked every table for lost items, made sure the staff had all gone to bed, and then departed for her room, too tired to think about Lucas.

Where she would continue her lonely existence? She’d made lots of friends since leaving home, but they had their own lives, and carving a village out of a city as big and diverse as London wasn’t easy. She had achieved her goal in maintaining her independence and progressing her career, but there was a price to pay for everything, and romance had passed her by. It would have been safer not to dance with Lucas, but he was an anchor who reminded her of good things in her past. Teasing and tormenting him, laughing with him, caring for the animals they loved side by side, had bred an intimacy between them went beyond sex. There was a time when she’d rather have had Lucas tell her that he admired her horsemanship than her breasts, and that was still partly true today. In her fantasies, being held safe in his arms was always the best option, but this wasn’t safe. His hands on her body as they danced and his breath on her cheek couldn’t remotely be called safe. It was a particular type of torture that made her want more.

Thankfully, she was stronger than that. ‘So we’ve danced,’ she declared as if her body wasn’t shouting hallelujah, while her sensible mind begged her to leave. ‘It’s time for me to go to bed.’

‘No,’ he argued flatly. ‘You can’t leave now. It would be rude to the musician. He might think we don’t like his music.’

She glanced at the guitarist, who was absorbed in his own world. ‘Do you think he’d notice?’

Luc’s lips pressed down as he followed her gaze. ‘I’m sure he would. Do you want to risk it?’

‘No,’ Stacey admitted. The man had played non-stop during the banquet. Who could deny him his downtime?

‘Good,’ Lucas murmured, bringing her close.

He’d turned her insides to molten honey with nothing more than an intimate tone in his voice, and the lightest touch of his hands. The sultry Spanish music clawed at her soul, forcing her to relax, and, as so often happened when she relaxed, she thought about the mother she’d lost before even knowing her, and those long, lonely nights of uncertainty when she was a child, asking herself what her mother would have advised Stacey to do to please everyone the following day. She’d failed so miserably on that front, and had begun to wonder if she would ever get it right.

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