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Stranded with the Tycoon
Sophie Pembroke
Ben Hampton is the last man in England that workaholic historian Luce would ever choose to be stranded with. Tall, dark and infuriatingly arrogant, he’s also a reminder of her not-so-glorious romantic history – something she’s spent the last few years burying herself in work to forget.Hotel tycoon Ben knows there’s fire behind Luce’s buttoned-up exterior, and fanning its flames is an irresistible temptation. Luckily, getting snowbound in the countryside gives him the perfect opportunity to tempt out the real Lucinda Myles… !
The man who sees her beauty…
Ben Hampton is the last man in England that workaholic historian Luce would ever choose to be stranded with. Tall, dark and infuriatingly arrogant, he’s also a reminder of her not-so-glorious romantic history—something she’s spent the past few years burying herself in work to forget.
Hotel tycoon Ben knows there’s fire behind Luce’s buttoned-up exterior, and fanning its flames is an irresistible temptation. Luckily, getting snowbound in the countryside gives him the perfect opportunity to tempt out the real Lucinda Myles!
“All right. What’s the plan?”
“A night off. With me. You put on your best party dress, let me take you out to dinner. You talk about yourself, not the things you’re supposed to be doing. You let me take responsibility for showing you a good time. You relax. We have a nightcap in my suite, then you get a good night’s sleep.”
“In my own room?” Luce stamped down on the corner of her mind that was happily imagining what might happen if they were both in his room. Ben’s smile grew a little wolfish. “Well now, that’s up to you.”
“Really,” Luce said, flatly.
“Of course.” Ben looked mildly offended. “I’m not saying I won’t give it my best shot. You’re a beautiful woman, and I enjoy the company of beautiful women. But at the end of the night, you get the choice of my bed or the spare room. Either way you have a bed for the night.”
Luce found her gaze caught on his. He thought she was beautiful? Ben Hampton actually wanted her. Sober, all grown up, not obviously crazy…and he wanted her. She could have dinner with him, flirt, kiss…more. All she had to do was say yes.
Dear Reader,
There’s something magical about snow. Especially when you’re sitting inside by a warm fire, mug in hand, watching it fall and cover the land. Or crunching through the first fall, leaving crisp footprints in your wake. Building snowmen, sledging, running inside to warm up again…or just enjoying the hush that a good snowfall brings to the world.
Of course if you’re trying to drive through mid-Wales, U.K., in a snowstorm, like Luce and Ben are in this book, it’s a whole lot less fun. Especially if it traps you in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with someone you haven’t seen in ten years and didn’t like very much even then.
But the magic of snow can’t be resisted, and the power of a romantic, secluded cottage shouldn’t be underestimated. Until the inevitable thaw, when the world returns to normal—but leaves Ben and Luce changed forever….
I grew up on the Welsh border—not very far from Chester, where this story starts—and I had so much fun setting this book in familiar locations. Ben’s cottage is, I’m afraid, fictional, but based on many cottages I’ve spent very happy holidays in over the years. And while the restaurant where they first eat dinner together doesn’t exist in the real world, the one that sits in the same spot on the Chester Rows in reality is a favorite for Mum and me to stop at for lunch when indulging in a little retail therapy!
I hope you enjoy Ben and Luce’s snowy adventure—maybe even as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Best wishes,
Sophie
Stranded with the Tycoon
Sophie Pembroke
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SOPHIE PEMBROKE has been dreaming, reading and writing romance for years—ever since she first read The Far Pavilions under her desk in Chemistry class. She later stayed up all night devouring Mills & Boon® books as part of her English degree at Lancaster University, and promptly gave up any pretext of enjoying tragic novels. After all, what’s the point of a book without a happy ending?
She loves to set her novels in the places where she has lived—from the wilds of the Welsh mountains to the genteel humour of an English country village, or the heat and tension of a London summer. She also has a tendency to make her characters kiss in castles.
Currently Sophie makes her home in Hertfordshire, with her scientist husband (who still shakes his head at the reading-in-Chemistry thing) and their four-year-old Alice-in-Wonderland-obsessed daughter. She writes her love stories in the study she begrudgingly shares with her husband, while drinking too much tea and eating homemade cakes. Or, when things are looking very bad for her heroes and heroines, white wine and dark chocolate.
Sophie keeps a blog at www.SophiePembroke.com, which should be about romance and writing but is usually about cake and castles instead.
This is Sophie Pembroke’s fabulous first book for Mills & Boon!
For Holly.
I’m proud of you all the way to the moon, too.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u969b048f-41b2-5ce2-9131-8219f807f499)
CHAPTER TWO (#ub54fce80-614d-55f1-8e38-228889bb60e0)
CHAPTER THREE (#u0458fd86-f0f0-558e-9a6e-d1713057a81e)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u42da8339-e174-597a-ad28-d5fc46a23557)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
LUCINDA MYLES WASN’T the sort of woman to panic, usually. But the prospect of being without a bed for the night five days before Christmas, in the midst of the coldest December the north-west of England had seen in decades, was decidedly unappealing. The city of Chester was booked solid by Christmas shoppers and by the other unfortunate academics attending the badly timed Bringing History to the Future conference. If the Royal Court Hotel didn’t find her booking...well, she was going to need a new plan. But first she’d try dogged persistence. It had always worked for her grandfather.
‘I understand that you’re fully booked,’ Luce said, in her most patient and forbearing voice. The one she usually saved for her brother Tom, when he was being particularly obtuse. ‘But one of those room bookings should be for me. Dr Lucinda Myles.’ She leant across the reception desk to try to see the girl’s computer screen. ‘M-Y-L-E-S.’
The blonde behind the desk angled the screen away from her. ‘I’m afraid there is no booking at this hotel under that name for tonight. Or any other night, for that matter.’
Luce gritted her teeth. This was what she got for letting the conference staff take charge of her hotel booking. She really should have known better. Take responsibility. Take control. Words to live by, her grandfather had always said. Shame she was the only one in the family to listen.
As if to echo the thought, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Luce sighed as she reached in to dig it out, knowing without looking that it would be Tom. ‘And there are absolutely no free rooms in the hotel tonight?’ she asked the blonde, figuring it was worth one more shot. ‘Even the suites are booked?’ She could make the university reimburse her. They wanted her here at the conference—the least they could do was give her a decent room for the night.
‘Everything. Every room is booked. It’s Christmas, in case you hadn’t noticed. And now, if I can’t be of any further assistance...’ The blonde looked over Luce’s shoulder.
Glancing back herself, Luce saw a growing queue of people waiting to check in. Well, they were just going to have to wait. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by this fancy hotel with its marble floors, elegant golden Christmas tree, chandeliers and impatient businessmen. She’d had one hell of a day, and she was taking responsibility for making it better. ‘Actually, perhaps you could check if any of the other local hotels have a free room. Since you’ve lost my reservation.’
‘We haven’t—’ the blonde started, but Luce cut her off with a look. She sighed. ‘I’ll just check.’
While the blonde motioned to her colleague to come and assist with the check-in queue, Luce slid a finger across the touch screen of her phone to check her messages. Three texts and a voicemail. All in the last twenty minutes, while she’d been arguing with the receptionist. A light day, really.
She scrolled to the first text while the disgruntled businessman behind her checked in at the next computer. It was from Tom, of course.
Has Mum spoken to you about Christmas Eve? Can you do it?
Christmas Eve? Luce frowned. That meant the voicemail was probably from her mother, changing their festive plans for the sixth time that month.
The next text was from her sister Dolly.
Looking forward to Xmas Eve—especially chocolate pots!
That didn’t bode well. Christmas Day was planned and sorted and all due for delivery from the local supermarket on the twenty-third—apart from the turkey, which was safely stored in her freezer. Christmas Eve, however—that was a whole different proposition.
The final text was Tom again.
Mum says we have a go! Fantastic. See you then.
Luce sighed. Whatever Mum’s new plan was, apparently it was a done deal. ‘You’re the responsible one, Lucinda,’ her grandfather had always said. ‘The rest of them couldn’t take care of themselves for a minute out there in the real world. You and I know that. Which is why you’re going to have to do it for them.’
Apparently they needed looking after again. With a Christmas Eve dinner. And chocolate puddings. Presumably in addition to the three-course dinner she’d be expected to produce the following day. Perfect.
Luce clicked the phone off as the blonde came back. The voicemail from her mother, hopefully explaining everything, could wait until Luce had a bed for the night.
‘I’m sorry,’ the blonde said, without a hint of apology in her voice. ‘There’s some history conference in town, and with all the Christmas shoppers as well I’m afraid the local accommodation has been booked up for months.’
Of course it has, Luce wanted to say. I’m here for the damn conference. I booked my room months ago. I’ve just spent all morning discussing how to bring history into the future. I deserve a room.
But instead she clenched her jaw while she thought her way out of the problem.
‘Right, then,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m going to go and sit over there and try calling some places myself.’ She motioned to the bar at the side of the lobby, where discreet twinkling fairy lights beckoned. This day would definitely be better with a gin and tonic. ‘In the meantime, if you have any cancellations, I’d appreciate it if you’d book the room under my name.’
‘Of course.’ The blonde nodded, but her tone said, You’ll be lucky.
Sighing, Luce turned away from the desk, only to find her path to a G&T barred by a broad chest in an expensive shirt. A nice chest. A wide, warm chest. The sort of chest you could bury your face in and forget about your day and let the owner of the chest solve your problems instead.
Not that she needed a man to fix her problems, of course. She was perfectly capable of doing that herself, thank you.
But it would be nice if one offered, just once.
Raising her gaze, she saw that the chest was topped by an almost unbelievably good-looking face. Dark hair brushed back from tanned skin. Golden-brown eyes that glowed above an amused mouth. A small scar marring his left eyebrow.
Hang on. That scar was familiar. She knew this man. And she should probably stop staring.
‘Is there a problem with your reservation, madam?’ he asked, and Luce blinked.
‘Um, only that it doesn’t seem to exist.’ She glanced back at the reception desk to discover that the blonde, rather than assisting the next guest in the queue, was practically hanging over the counter to get in on their conversation.
‘Daisy?’ The man raised his scarred eyebrow at the blonde.
Luce definitely recognised that expression. But from where? A conference? A lecture? Somebody’s ex? Hell, maybe even from TV? One of those reality shows about real life in a hotel? Except Luce didn’t usually have time to watch such programmes. But the subconscious was a funny thing. Maybe his image had been imprinted on her brain, somehow, in eerie preparation for this moment.
‘There’s no reservation in her name, sir, and the hotel’s fully booked tonight. I tried the usual places, of course, but everyone’s booked out.’
For the first time Daisy sounded helpful and efficient. Obviously this guy was someone who mattered. Or Daisy had a huge crush on him. Or, most likely, both. After all, Luce could tell from the way he stood—feet apart, just enough to anchor him firmly to the earth—that this was a man used to the world bending around him rather than the other way round. And really, even with the scar—especially with the scar, actually—what young, healthy, straight woman wouldn’t feel a certain ping of attraction to him?
Except Luce, of course. She had too many bigger things to worry about to waste time on attraction. Like where she was going to sleep that night. And who the hell he was.
Luce frowned. So annoying. Normally she was good at this stuff. Of course the man hadn’t given any indication that he recognised her, so maybe she was wrong. Or just less memorable than he was.
Suddenly Luce was rather glad she couldn’t put her finger on his identity. How much more embarrassing would it be to have to explain to him how he knew her while he stared at her blankly? Much better to get this whole interaction over with quickly. She’d probably figure out where she knew him from when she was on the train back to Cardiff on Thursday morning, by which time it wouldn’t matter anyway.
‘What about the King James Suite?’ he asked.
Luce was amused to see Daisy actually blush.
‘Well, I didn’t think... I mean...’ she stammered.
Luce, seeing her chance, jumped in. ‘You thought I couldn’t afford it?’ she guessed. ‘Firstly, you really shouldn’t make such assumptions about your guests. Secondly, since you lost my reservation I’d expect that a free upgrade would be the least you could do. So I’m very interested to hear your response to the gentleman’s question.’
Arms folded across her chest, just like her grandfather used to do when he was disappointed in her, Luce stared Daisy down and waited for an answer. This was it, she was sure. The moment her luck turned for the day and she got to spend the night in the best luxury the Royal Court Hotel had to offer. Never mind the gin and tonic—she was having champagne in the bathtub at this rate.
Daisy, redder and more flustered than ever, turned wide blue eyes on her boss. ‘But, Mr Hampton, sir...I didn’t offer her the King James Suite because you’re staying there.’
Mr Hampton. Ben Hampton. The memory fell into place just as Daisy’s words registered.
Luce winced. Apparently her day wasn’t improving after all.
* * *
Ben Hampton couldn’t keep from smirking when he saw his potential suite-mate roll her eyes to heaven and turn folded arms and an accusing stare on him. This was going to be fun.
Five minutes earlier he’d been about to head out for the evening when he’d seen the brunette holding up the reservations queue in the lobby. His first instinct had been to intervene, to get things moving again. Being one half of the ‘sons’ in the Hampton & Sons hotel chain meant that he fixed things wherever he saw them. He kept the guests happy, the staff working hard and the hotel ticking over, wherever he happened to be staying at the time. That was his job: keep things moving. Including himself. But of course staff evaluation was also important, his brother Seb would have said, and this had looked like the perfect opportunity to observe how the Royal Court’s reception staff dealt with a difficult guest.
So he’d stayed back, trying not to look as if he was loitering behind the ostentatious golden Christmas tree in the lobby, and watched. He’d heard the woman give her name as Lucinda Myles and a jolt of recognition had stabbed through him. Lucinda Myles. Luce. They’d teased her about that, hadn’t they? Such an absurd nickname for someone so uptight. Ben knew from six months of dating her university roommate that Luce Myles had been the twenty-year-old most likely to be doing extra course reading on a Friday night, while the rest of them were in the pub. And he’d been able to tell from three metres away that she was still the most tightly wound person he’d ever met.
Luce had vibrated with irritation and impatience, just as she had whenever he and the girlfriend had emerged from their bed at noon on a weekday. Ben frowned. What had her name been, anyway? The girlfriend? Molly? Mandy? Hell, it had been eight years ago—even if six months was something of a relationship record for him. Was he supposed to remember the name of every girl he’d ever dated? But Luce Myles...that wholly inaccurate name had stuck with him down the years.
Casually, he’d turned his head to get a better look at her. Dark hair, clipped at the back of her head, had revealed the creamy curve of her neck down to her collarbone, shoulders, tense under her sweater. The heel of her boot had been tapping against the marble as she waited for Daisy to finish calling around for a room Ben knew wouldn’t exist. She’d been knotted so tight she might have snapped at any moment, and he’d wondered why—passing acquaintance aside—he was even vaguely interested in her. Yes, he liked a woman who knew what she wanted, but usually she wanted a good time—and him. Lucinda Myles didn’t look as if she’d gained any conception of what a good time was in the last decade, let alone a desire to have one.
In fact, he’d realised with a jolt, he knew exactly what she looked like. That permanent frown etched in her forehead, the frustration around her eyes—they were familiar. He’d seen them on his mother’s face often enough.
But that hadn’t explained his sudden interest. He’d studied her closer and eventually decided it was her clothes. Despite the ‘stay away’ vibes her demeanour gave out, her clothes were just begging to be touched. Straight velvet skirt in the darkest plum, a navy sweater that looked so soft it had to be cashmere. Even her sensible brown boots were suede. She certainly hadn’t dressed like that at university. Ben appreciated fine fabrics, and the sight had made his fingers itch to touch them.
He’d wondered what she had on underneath.
A woman couldn’t wear clothes that strokeable if she didn’t have something of a sensual nature under them. Even if she didn’t know it was there yet. Maybe Lucinda Myles had an inner sensuality just begging to be let out after all these years. Ben had thought he might like to help her with that. For old times’ sake.
Daisy had returned to report on the utter lack of available hotel rooms in the local area, and Luce had moved away—which simply didn’t fit in with Ben’s plans. So he’d stepped forward and suggested the King James Suite, which had had the added bonus of enabling him to watch Luce’s face when she realised who she’d be sharing with.
Except her reaction wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting.
There’d been no sign that she recognised him, for a start, which was a bit of a blow to the ego. He liked to think he was a fairly memorable guy. But then, he’d grown up in eight years. Changed just as she had. Would he have recognised her without hearing her name? Probably not. So he could forgive her that. No, the cutting part was that instead of flushing red or widening her eyes, like Daisy did, or even giving him a glimpse through her armour of tension and irritation like any other woman would have, Lucinda Myles had winced.
Winced. At the prospect of spending the night with him.
Daisy’s eyes grew wider than ever and Ben decided it might be better for his reputation—and ego—if they moved this conversation elsewhere.
‘Before you get entirely the wrong idea about my intentions,’ he said, angling an arm behind Luce to guide her towards the bar, ‘I should point out that I’m the owner of this hotel rather than an opportunistic guest. Ben Hampton, by the way.’ A slow blink from Luce. Recognition? Ben pressed on anyway. ‘And you should also know that the King James Suite has two very finely appointed bedrooms.’
Luce pursed her lips and eyed him speculatively before giving a sharp nod. ‘Buy me a gin and tonic and you can explain exactly what you did mean by propositioning me in that manner while I try and find somewhere else to stay tonight.’
It wasn’t entirely what he’d intended, but it would do. It would give her time to remember him, or for him to introduce himself all over again. And getting her even more tightly wound than usual would only make it more glorious when she fell apart under his touch.
CHAPTER TWO
LUCE SMIRKED AT Ben Hampton’s retreating back and wondered what on earth had possessed the owner of a luxury hotel like the Royal Court to offer to share his suite with a complete stranger. Unless, of course, he remembered her, too. In which case, why hadn’t he just said so? She was pretty sure Ben Hampton had never suffered from the sort of crippling embarrassment that sometimes held her back even now. He certainly hadn’t when he was twenty.
Ben Hampton. Of course it was. She remembered that same scarred eyebrow raised at her over the breakfast table—a subtle mocking of the fact that while he and Mandy had been out having fun she’d been in studying. Again. They’d never been friends, never had any real meaningful conversations. Not even that last night, at another of his dad’s swanky hotels for Ben’s twenty-first birthday. She hadn’t known him and she’d never cared to. The little she’d observed of him had told her his entire personality, and from what she’d seen today he hadn’t changed. He still expected the world to bend to him and women to fall at his feet, just as he always had. And she still refused to do either. They were worlds apart—maybe even more so now than they had been at university.
So why offer her his room? For old times’ sake?
Not that she’d be taking him up on the offer, of course. Especially if he didn’t know who she was. Still, she had no reservations about acquiring a free drink from the exchange, while she worked on finding alternative accommodation.
Pulling out her phone again, Luce saw she had another message. Great. She dialled her voicemail and prepared to decipher her mother’s rambling.
‘Lucinda? Are you there, darling? No? Are you sure?’
A pause while Tabitha Myles waited to see if her eldest daughter was simply pretending to be an answering machine. Listening, Luce closed her eyes and shook her head a little.
‘Well, in that case, I suppose I should...maybe I should call back later? Except Tom did ask... You see, the thing is, darling, Tom’s decided he should spend Christmas Day with his new girlfriend. Vanessa. Did he tell you about her? She sounds delightful. She has two children, I understand, and you know how Tom loves children... Anyway, since he won’t be with us on Christmas Day we thought it might be nice to have a family dinner at the house on Christmas Eve so we can all meet Vanessa! Won’t that be lovely? I think this could be a real step forward for him...after everything. And you always say the house still belongs to all of us, really. Dolly says she’ll come too, as long as you’re making your special chocolate puddings. I told her of course you would. And you can invite that lovely man of yours along. Been ages since we saw Dennis. Anyway, so that’s that sorted. Friday evening, yes? See you then, darling. Lovely to talk to you. Bye!’
Fantastic. It was Monday afternoon and she was stuck in Chester at the conference until Thursday morning, assuming she found somewhere to stay. What the hell was she supposed to cook that was worthy of Tom’s tentative first steps out of depression and into the world of love and went with chocolate pots for Dolly? Maybe she could amend her supermarket order if she could get online. Which just left getting the house in a state Tabitha could tolerate, explaining once again that Dennis was not her boyfriend and writing her conference report. Not to mention the completed draft she’d promised her publisher of her first book. The university did like its lecturers to publish.
‘Looks like I’ll be working on the train,’ she muttered to herself, tugging her organiser from her bag to start a new ‘To Do’ list. She saved Tabitha’s message and her voicemail moved swiftly onto a harried conference organiser, apologising profusely for a ‘slight confusion’ with the hotel booking arrangements. Luce could hear the poor girl’s boss yelling in the background.
Sighing, Luce deleted the message. So, still homeless. Maybe she should call it quits and head back to Cardiff. She’d already given her lecture. And, interesting as the rest of the conference looked, it wasn’t worth going without a bed for. Except her ticket was non-refundable, and the walk-up price would be astronomical. But if it meant she could just go home it might be worth it.
Her phone buzzed in her hand and Luce automatically swept a finger across the screen to open the e-mail. The cheery informality of Dennis’s words set her teeth on edge from the first line.
Dr Luce! Bet you’re living it up in Chester. Don’t forget my summary on tomorrow’s lecture, will you? D.
See? Things could be worse. Dennis could have come to Chester with her. Fortunately he was far too important and busy to spend time away from the university. That was why he sent Luce instead. Of course now she had to attend a really dull lecture on his behalf and take notes, but that was a price worth paying for his absence.
Tossing her phone onto the table, Luce scanned the bar to see where Ben had got to with her drink. She needed to formulate a plan to get through the next week, and that would definitely be easier with an icy G&T in her hand. Except it didn’t look as if she’d be getting it any time soon.
At the bar, Ben Hampton had his phone clamped to his ear and was smiling at the redhead in the short skirt who’d claimed the barstool next to him. Typical. What did she expect from a man who offered to share his suite with a woman he barely knew? As if she needed further evidence that he hadn’t changed since university. His sort never did. Luce remembered well enough Mandy stomping into the flat at two in the morning, more than once, wailing about how she’d caught Ben out with another woman. Remembered the one time he’d ever shown any interest in her at all, when Mandy hadn’t been looking. Did he? she wondered. He’d been pretty drunk.
Luce narrowed her eyes as she observed him. But then he turned, leaning against the bar behind him, and raised that scarred eyebrow at Luce instead of at the redhead. A shiver ran across her shoulders and she glanced away. She really didn’t have time for the sort of distractions Ben’s smile promised. She had responsibilities, after all. And she knew far, far better than to get involved with men like Ben Hampton. Whatever game he was playing.
Take responsibility. Take control. She had to remember that.
Without looking up again, Luce grabbed her organiser and started planning how to get through her week.
* * *
Ben ignored his brother’s voice in his ear and studied Luce instead. She was staring at her diary, where it rested on her crossed legs, and brushed an escaped strand of hair out of her eyes. Her pen was poised over the paper, but she wasn’t writing anything. She looked like a woman trying to save the world one ‘To Do’ list at a time. His initial impression had definitely been right, even if he hadn’t seen her in nearly a decade. This was a woman who needed saving from herself.
Not my responsibility, though, he reminded himself. Not my fix this time.
‘So, what do you think?’ Sebastian asked down the phone. ‘Is it worth saving?’
‘Definitely,’ Ben answered, before realising that Seb was talking about the Royal Court Hotel, not Lucinda Myles. ‘I mean, yes—I think it’s worth working with.’ The Royal Court was a relatively new acquisition, and Ben’s job for the week was to find out how it ticked and how to make it work the Hampton & Sons way. ‘You stayed here, right? Before we bought it? I mean, you must have done.’
‘Dad did,’ Seb said, his voice suddenly darker. ‘I have his report, but...’
It was hard to ask questions about the room service and the bathroom refits when the old man was six feet under, Ben supposed. ‘Right—sure. And there were concerns?’
‘Perhaps.’ Seb sounded exactly as their father had, whenever he hadn’t said something that mattered. Keeping information from his youngest son because he didn’t trust him to step up and do his job. To take responsibility for making things right.
Ben had hoped Seb knew him better than their father had. Apparently not.
Perhaps that was just what happened when you spent your childhood in different boarding schools. With five years between them, Ben had always been too far behind to catch up with his talented older brother. He’d always wondered what life had been like for Seb before he came along.
‘Fine. I’ll type up a new evaluation tonight and get it over to you. Okay?’ It wouldn’t take long—especially if he could get the original report e-mailed over from head office. But work responsibilities could wait until later. First he had plans. Like finding out just how strokeable Dr Lucinda Myles really was under those clothes. Because of course she’d gone on to get her PhD. The woman was born for academia.
‘That’d be great,’ Seb said.
He sounded tired, and Ben could imagine him sitting behind Dad’s big oak desk, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Because now it wasn’t years and schools keeping them apart, it was the burden of responsibility.
Working together, especially since their father had died, had enabled Ben to get to know his brother better than ever before. They were close, he supposed, in their way. Possibly because neither of them really had anyone else.
And Seb was his brother before he was his boss. He had to remember that.
A stab of guilt at the thought made Ben ask, ‘Is there anything else you need me to do?’
The pause at the other end of the line suggested that there was, but whatever it was Seb obviously didn’t trust him to do it. ‘Nah, don’t worry about it. Enjoy your week in Chester. Take in a Roman relic or something. Or—no, you were planning on heading off to your cottage, weren’t you?’
‘I thought I might,’ Ben said cautiously. God, after the last twelve months all he wanted was to hole up in the middle of nowhere with a good bottle of whisky, some really great music and some old movies. ‘But if you need me back in the office—’
‘No. You haven’t had a holiday in nearly a year.’ Since before Dad died, went unspoken. ‘You deserve a break.’
Not as much as Seb did. The idea of persuading his ultra-responsible older brother to take time off was frankly laughable, but apparently Ben wasn’t nearly as essential to the well-being of Hampton & Sons. Something he might as well take advantage of, he supposed. ‘Well, you know where I am if you need me.’
‘In bed with a hot blonde?’ his brother joked, a hint of the old, relaxed Seb coming out.
Relief seeped through Ben at the sound of it. ‘Brunette, hopefully.’ Ben eyed Luce again. Still ignoring him. If she remembered him at all she probably felt exactly the same way about him as his father had—that he was still the same man she’d known him to be at twenty, incapable of growing up. Well, maybe he’d have a chance tonight to show her exactly what sort of man he’d grown into.
Seb’s laugh lacked any real humour. ‘Then I wish you luck. I’m sure you’ll have her begging you for more in no time.’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘And then you’ll just have to figure out how to get rid of her when she inevitably loses her head over you.’
Quite aside from the fact that Ben found it impossible to imagine Lucinda Myles losing her head over anyone, something in Seb’s words rankled.
‘Hey, be fair. I’m always honest with them. They know exactly what to expect. No commitment, no strings, no future, and—’
‘No more than one night together in a row,’ Seb finished for him. ‘I know. But they always think they’ll be the one to change you.’
Ben shrugged, even though Seb couldn’t see him. ‘Not my responsibility. I don’t do long-term.’
‘Just the short-term fix.’ Seb chuckled. ‘Well, if that’s all you want enjoy yourself. I’ll see you back in London on Friday.’ He hung up.
Ben put his brother’s mocking out of his head. As if Seb was any better, anyway. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen him with a date.
Life was all about priorities, their father had always said. And just because Ben had never shared David Hampton’s priorities when he was alive, and didn’t intend to start now, that didn’t make the sentiment any less valid.
His priorities weren’t love and marriage. And his priority for the night certainly wasn’t Seb and the business. It was Luce Myles. Grabbing two gin and tonics from the bartender, Ben was pretty sure he knew exactly how to get under her skin.
* * *
Luce’s ‘To Do’ list was stretching to several pages by the time Ben finally returned with their drinks.
‘Queue at the bar?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows as he placed the glasses on the table. A girl couldn’t be expected to deal with so many demands on her without a drink.
‘Phone call from the office,’ he countered with an apologetic smile.
She supposed that running a hotel chain did require some level of responsibility, hard though it was to imagine from Ben Hampton. On the other hand, he had described it as the ‘Hampton & Sons’ chain, so maybe he was just the heir apparent, running errands for Daddy, and the phone call was about him maxing out his company credit card. That would explain a lot, actually.
He folded himself into the low bucket chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and Luce allowed herself to be distracted from how the man made a living. A more interesting question was how did he manage to look so comfortable, so relaxed, in a chair so clearly not designed for someone of his height or size? Luce couldn’t manage it, and the chair might have been made for her.
‘You look like you kept yourself occupied, anyway.’ He motioned at her list, and she winced.
‘Busy week. Time of the year.’ She started to close the cover of her organiser, but Ben’s hand slipped between the pages and pushed it open again.
‘Let’s see what’s keeping Dr Lucinda Myles so busy.’
Tugging the diary towards him, he flashed her a grin that made her middle glow a little, against her better judgement. She didn’t remember him being this damn attractive. His behaviour was unacceptably intrusive, an invasion of her privacy, and her ‘To Do’ list was absolutely none of his business. And yet she didn’t stop him. All because he had a wickedly attractive smile. Clearly she was losing her edge.
I need some time off. The thought was a familiar one, but Luce knew from past experience that nothing would come of it. Yes, some time to recharge her batteries—hell, even some time to focus on her book—would be beneficial. But when on earth would she ever find the time to make it happen?
Ben flipped through the list and gave a low whistle. ‘Conference, followed by what I imagine to be a long and tedious conference report, family dinner party on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day entertaining, house repairs, cat-sitting for your neighbour, university New Year’s Eve event, student evaluations, your actual day job. When were you planning on sleeping?’
‘I wasn’t.’ Luce took a long sip of her gin and tonic. ‘Especially since I still don’t have a bed for the night.’
‘I believe I offered you a solution to that particular problem.’ Ben slammed her organiser shut, but kept his hand on it. ‘In fact, after seeing your “To Do” list, I have an even better proposition.’
‘So you are propositioning me, then?’ Luce said, trying to sound accusing rather than amused. Or aroused. This was unacceptable behaviour—especially from the owner of a hotel. And she was not the sort of woman who had one-night stands in hotels just to get a bed for the night. However attractive the man. But part of her couldn’t help wondering if he’d be doing this if he didn’t remember her. Or, perhaps more likely, he’d never be doing this at all if he knew who she really was. Which is it?
Ben just smiled a lazy, seductive grin. ‘Were you ever really in any doubt? Now, do you want to hear this proposition or not?’
She shouldn’t. But her curious nature was what had led her into academia, into history, in the first place. She wanted to know what had happened, when and why. She couldn’t help but remember all those long, dull evenings staying in to study, until Ben and Mandy stumbled into the flat, ready to tell her everything she’d missed, their eyes pitying. She needed to know what it was Ben Hampton saw in her now to make him waste his time trying to seduce her. ‘Go on, then.’
‘Take the night off.’
Luce blinked. ‘That’s it?’
Folding his arms behind his head, Ben smirked. ‘It’s elegant in its simplicity.’
‘It’s not possible.’ Luce reached for her organiser, shaking her head. ‘I need to type up my notes from today, I need to talk to my brother about this dinner, and I need to—’
‘You need to slow down.’ Peeling her fingers from the cover of her diary, Ben picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.
Luce lunged across the table to try to grab it, but she was too slow. ‘I need that. You can’t just—’
‘Trust me, it’s for the best.’ Luce glared at him, and he sighed. ‘Okay—tell you what. You listen to the rest of my plan, and if you honestly don’t think it sounds like a good idea I’ll give you your stupid planner back and you can go wander the streets of Chester looking for a hotel. All right?’
Even Luce had to admit that her options were a little limited. ‘All right. What’s the plan?’
‘A night off. With me. You put on your best party dress, let me take you out to dinner. You talk about yourself—not the things you’re supposed to be doing. You let me take responsibility for showing you a good time. You relax. We have a nightcap in my suite, and then you get a good night’s sleep.’
‘In my own room?’ Luce stamped down on the corner of her mind that was happily imagining what might happen if they were both in his room.
Ben’s smile grew a little wolfish. ‘Well, now...that’s up to you.’
‘Really?’ Luce said flatly.
‘Of course.’ Ben looked mildly offended. ‘I’m not saying I won’t give it my best shot. You’re a beautiful woman, and I enjoy the company of beautiful women. But at the end of the night you get the choice of my bed or the spare room. Either way you have a bed for the night.’
Luce found her gaze caught on his. He thought she was beautiful? Ben Hampton actually wanted her? Sober, all grown-up, not obviously crazy...and he wanted her. She could have dinner with him, flirt, kiss...more. All she had to do was say yes.
She tore her gaze away.
‘And tomorrow?’ she asked.
Ben’s smile slipped. ‘Tomorrow I’m leaving town. Look, whichever way tonight goes, it’s nothing sordid. Nothing to be ashamed of. We can enjoy each other’s company then go our separate ways. I’m not asking you for anything beyond tonight.’
‘So romantic,’ Luce muttered. She hated how unworldly he made her feel. His matter-of-fact proposition of a one-night stand was miles away from any date she’d been on in the last ten years. And also the reason she couldn’t give in to it. She wanted more from a night of passion than a kiss on the cheek at the end of it and never seeing each other again.
‘This isn’t romance,’ Ben said. ‘It’s much more fun than that. And, either way, I bet you feel better in the morning.’
And she would. Sex aside, she’d get a stress-free evening, with no need to entertain since Ben was clearly capable of making his own fun. She could just relax and let someone else take charge for a few hours. Could she even do that? She wasn’t sure she ever had before.
‘Admit it—you’re tempted.’
Ben leant across the table, that scarred eyebrow raised, and Luce knew that she was. In more ways than one.
‘By dinner,’ she told him firmly. ‘Nothing else.’
Ben gave her a lazy smile. ‘As you like.’
It might be the worst idea she’d ever had. But at least she’d have somewhere to sleep for the night, and the whole week ahead would look more manageable after a relaxing evening and a solid eight hours’ rest. And maybe tomorrow morning she could tell him who she was and watch his amused composure slip as he realised he’d tried to seduce Loser Luce. Again. That would almost make it worth it in itself.
I shouldn’t. I have responsibilities.
But even Grandad Myles, duty and responsibility’s biggest advocate, would have wanted her to take a night off once in a while. Wouldn’t he? She was stressed, overwhelmed and exhausted—and utterly useless to anybody in such a state. A night off to regroup would enable her to better help others and get things done more efficiently. Nothing at all to do with wanting to find out what she’d been missing on all those university nights out.
Besides, hadn’t she fantasised about a night in the Royal Court’s best suite?
‘On one condition,’ she said.
Ben grinned. ‘Anything.’
‘I want to take advantage of your hopefully plush and expensive bathroom first.’ With bubbles. And maybe champagne.
Ben’s grin grew wider. ‘Deal.’
‘Then give me my organiser back.’ She was already starting to feel a bit jittery without it. Maybe she could review her lists in the bath. Multi-tasking—that was the key to a productive life.
But Ben shook his head. ‘First thing tomorrow it’s all yours. Not one moment before.’
‘But I need—’
‘Trust me,’ Ben said, taking her hand in his across the table. ‘Tonight I’ll be in charge of meeting all your needs.’
A red-hot flush ran across Luce’s skin. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
CHAPTER THREE
LUCE HAD NEVER seen such a magnificent bathroom.
The size of the rolltop tub almost helped her forget the sight of Ben locking her beloved crimson leather organiser in the suite’s mini-safe. And the glass of champagne he’d poured her before she’d absconded to the bathroom more than made up for the way she’d blushed when he’d asked if she was sure she didn’t want him to help scrub her back.
Tearing her eyes away from the bath, Luce checked the door, then turned the lock. She’d told him as clearly as she could that the only part of his offer she was interested in was dinner and the spare bed. No point giving him the wrong idea now.
Of course she wasn’t entirely sure what the right idea was. Accepting an offer of a night out with a gorgeous man—whatever the terms and conditions—wasn’t exactly typical Luce behaviour. She hadn’t even made a pros and cons list, for a start.
But the decision was made now. She might as well make the most of it.
Turning on the taps, Luce rifled through the tiny bottles of complimentary lotions and potions, settling on something that claimed to be a ‘relaxing and soothing’ bath foam. Sounded perfect. After a moment’s consideration she tipped the whole bottle into the running water. She was in need of all the relaxation she could get. That was the point of this whole night, wasn’t it? And, since it was the only one she was likely to get for a while, she really should make the most of it.
Luce took a swig of her champagne, stripped off her clothes and climbed into the heavenly scented hot water.
Relaxation. How hard could it be?
It would be a whole lot easier, she decided after a few moments of remaining tense, if Ben Hampton wasn’t waiting outside for her.
Tipping her head back against the edge of the bath, Luce tried to conjure up the image of the last time she’d seen him. After so many years of trying to forget she’d thought it would be harder to remember. But the sounds, scents, sights were all as fresh in her mind as they’d been eight years ago, at the swanky Palace Hotel, London, for Ben’s twenty-first birthday party.
It had been a stupid idea to go in the first place. But Mandy had wanted someone to travel down on the train with and Ben had raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, ‘Well, sure you can come. If you really want to.’ And Luce had wanted to—just a bit. Just to see what birthdays looked like for the rich and privileged.
Much as she’d expected, it turned out. Too much champagne. Too many people laughing too loudly. Bright lights and dancing and shimmery expensive dresses. In her green cotton frock, and with her hair long and loose instead of pinned back in one of the intricate styles the other girls had seemed to favour, Luce had felt just as out of place as she’d predicted.
So she’d hidden in another room—some sort of sitting area decked out like a gentleman’s library. Books never made her feel inadequate, after all. She could sit and read until Mandy was ready to head back to their tiny shared hotel room. Not a Hampton hotel, but a cheap, probably infested place three tube stops away. It had been the perfect plan—until Ben had found her.
‘You’ve got the right idea,’ he’d said, lurching into the chair next to her.
Luce, who’d already watched him down glass after glass of champagne that evening, had inched further away. ‘Not enjoying your party?’ she’d asked.
Ben had shrugged. ‘It’s a party. Hard not to enjoy a party.’ His eyes had narrowed as he’d studied her. ‘Although you seem to be managing it.’
Looking away, Luce had fiddled with the hem of her dress. ‘It’s not really my kind of party.’
‘It’s not really mine either,’ Ben had said.
When Luce had glanced across at him he’d been staring at the door. But then his attention had jerked back to her, and a wide, not entirely believable grin had been on his face. ‘It’s just my dad showing off, really. There are more of his business associates here than my friends.’
‘And yet you invited me?’
He’d laughed at that. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
‘Not really.’ They’d had nothing in common besides proximity to Mandy until that moment, right then, when Luce had felt his gaze meeting hers, connecting them—until she’d realised she was leaning forward, into him, waiting for his answer.
‘We could be.’
He’d inched closer too, leaning over the arm of his chair until Luce had been able to smell the champagne on his breath.
‘You’re a hell of a lot of a nicer person than Mandy.’
‘Mandy’s my friend,’ Luce had said, trying to find the energy to defend her. But all she’d been able to see was Ben’s eyes, pupils black and wide. ‘Your girlfriend.’ She couldn’t think with him so close.
‘Mandy’s out there flirting with a forty-something businessman she knows will never leave his wife but might buy her some nice jewellery.’
Luce had winced. He was probably right. For a moment she’d felt her first ever pang of sympathy for Ben Hampton.
But then he’d leant in further, his hand coming up to rest against her cheek, and Luce had known she should pull away, run away, get away from Ben Hampton for good.
His lips had been soft, gentle against hers, she remembered. But only for a brief moment. One insane lapse in judgement. Before she jerked back, leaving him bent over the space where she’d been. She’d upped and run—just as she should have done the moment she’d arrived at the party and seen how much she didn’t fit in.
Luce sighed and let the memory go. Much more pleasant to focus on the hot water and scented bubbles of her bath than on Ben’s face as she’d turned back at the doorway. Or the humiliation she’d felt, her cheeks burning, as she’d run out, his laughter echoing in her ears, and dragged Mandy away from her businessman and back to that flea-ridden hotel.
He probably didn’t remember. He’d been drunk and young and stupid. He’d certainly never have done it sober. Why else would he have laughed? The whole incident was ridiculous. Luce was a grown woman now, with bigger concerns than what Ben Hampton thought of her.
Except he was waiting outside the bathroom door, ready to take her out for dinner. And afterwards...
Luce shut her eyes and dunked her head under the water.
* * *
What the hell was she doing in there?
Ben checked his watch, then poured himself another glass of champagne. It was coming up to three quarters of an hour since he’d heard the lock turn, and since then there had been only the occasional splash. Apparently she was taking the whole relaxing thing seriously. He should have remembered earlier how his ex-girlfriend had complained about Luce disappearing into the bathroom with her history texts and using up all the hot water on ridiculously indulgent baths. At the time he’d just found it comforting to know that the woman had some weaknesses. Now it was seriously holding up his evening.
But at least it gave him the opportunity to do some research. Unlocking the safe, he pulled out Luce’s organiser again and sank into the armchair by the window to read. Really, the woman was the epitome of over-scheduled. And almost none of the things written into the tiny diary spaces in neat block capitals seemed like things she’d be doing for herself. Christmas dinners—plural—for family, attending lectures for colleagues, looking after someone else’s cat... And then, on a Sunday near the end of January, the words ‘BOOK DRAFT DEADLINE’ in red capitals. Interesting. Definitely something to talk about over dinner.
She baffled him. That was why he wanted to know more. On the one hand, he was pretty sure he could predict her entire life story leading from university to here. On the other, however...there was something else there. Something he hadn’t seen or noticed when they were younger. Something that hooked him in even if he wasn’t ready to admit why. Yes, she was attractive. That on its own was nothing new. But this self-sacrificing mentality—was it a martyr complex? A bullying mother? Luce hadn’t ever seemed weak, so why was she doing everything for other people?
Particularly her family, it seemed. Flicking through the pages, Ben tried to remember if he’d ever met them at university, but if he had they hadn’t made much of an impression. Now he thought about it, he did remember Luce disappearing home to Cardiff every few weeks to visit them.
Obviously a sign of things to come.
Leaning back in his chair, Ben closed the organiser and tried to resist the memories pressing against his brain. But they were too strong. Another dark-haired woman, just as tired, just as self-sacrificing—until the day she broke.
‘I’m sorry, Benji,’ she’d said. ‘Mummy has to go.’
And it didn’t matter that he’d tried everything, done anything he could think of to be good enough to make her stay. He hadn’t been able to fix things for her.
Maybe he could for Luce.
Laughing at himself, he sat up, shaking the memories away. Luce wasn’t his mother. She wasn’t tied by marriage or children. She could make her own choices far more freely. And what could he do in one night, anyway? Other than help her relax. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe all she needed was to realise that she had needs, too. And Ben was very good at assessing women’s needs.
A repetitive beeping noise interrupted his thoughts, and it took him a moment to register it as a ringtone. As he looked up, his gaze caught on Luce’s rich purple coat, slung across the sofa on the other side of the glass coffee table. She’d taken her suitcase and handbag into the bathroom with her—obvious paranoia in Ben’s view—but he’d seen her drop her phone into her coat pocket before they left the bar.
Interesting.
He should feel guilty, he supposed, but really it was all for the woman’s own good. She needed saving from herself. She needed his help.
The noise had stopped before he could retrieve the phone from the pocket of her coat, and Ben stared at the flashing screen for a moment, wondering how one woman could have so many people needing to contact her. In addition to a missed call from her mother, her notifications screen told him straight off that she had three texts from a guy called Tom, an e-mail from a man named Dennis and another missed call from an improbably named ‘Dolly’. All in the hour since they’d left the bar.
Scanning over the snippets on the screen told him all he really needed to know—every person who’d contacted her wanted something from her. Dropping the phone back into her pocket, Ben considered the evening ahead.
His plan, ill thought out to start with, had been to have a fun evening and hopefully a fun night. To show Luce a good time, then remind her who he was so they could have a laugh about it. Or he could, anyway. But now...he was invested.
Who was Lucinda Myles these days?
The last time he’d seen her must have been the night of his spectacularly disastrous twenty-first birthday party. He remembered spotting her sloping out of the hotel ballroom towards one of the drawing rooms, but after that far too much champagne had blurred the evening until the following morning and a headbangingly loud lecture from his father about appropriate behaviour and responsibility to the family reputation. Friends had helpfully filled him in on the more humorous of his antics that night, but no one had mentioned Luce.
Then the ex had broken up with him for humiliating her and ‘possibly ruining her future’, whatever that meant, and he’d had no reason to see Luce again. Who knew how much she’d changed in the intervening years?
Ben paused in his thoughts. She couldn’t have changed that much, given what he’d seen so far that day. In which case...
Grabbing the phone from the table next to him, he called down to Reception.
‘Daisy? Can you cancel my booking at The Edge tonight?’ Trendy, stainless-steel, cutting-edge fusion restaurants just weren’t Luce’s style, no matter who the concierge had needed to bribe to get him a table there that night. ‘No, don’t worry. I’ll sort out an alternative myself.’
Something more Luce. More fun too, probably.
One more quick phone call ascertained that the restaurant he was thinking of still existed. Perfect. Hanging up, Ben glanced at the bathroom door and then at his watch again. He’d given Luce long enough. Time to move on to the next stage of their evening.
Pausing first to replace the diary in the safe, he gave the bathroom door a quick rap with his knuckles and then said, loud enough to be sure he could be heard through it, ‘You’ve got five more minutes in there before I start trying to guess the pass code for your phone.’
To his surprise, the lock turned and the door opened almost instantly. Eyebrows raised, Luce stared at him and said, ‘Threats aren’t traditionally very relaxing, you know.’
But baths clearly were. Especially for Dr Lucinda Myles.
She’d changed out of those clothes he’d been longing to run his hands over, but since she’d replaced them with a slippery, silky purple dress he really wasn’t complaining. Her hair was pinned up off her neck, with a few damp tendrils curling behind her ears and across her forehead. She smiled at him, her deep red lips curving in amusement. ‘I didn’t think you were the sort of man to do speechless. I like it.’
A rush of lavender hit his lungs as she swept past him, reminding him of the ch?teau in summer, and he realised he still hadn’t spoken. ‘If I’d known you were using your time so well I’d have been much more patient,’ he said, finding his voice at last.
Luce slipped her arms into her coat, her fingers reaching into the pocket for her phone. Time for another distraction. Ben offered her his arm and she took it, forestalling her return to the world of technology and messages from people who wanted far less fun things from her than he did. ‘Now, if you’re ready, won’t you let me escort you to dinner?’
She still looked suspicious as she nodded, but she left the room beside him, steady on higher heels than he’d have expected her to be comfortable wearing. Ben smiled. This was going to be a good evening. He was sure of it. The hotel and the business were fine, and he had the company of a beautiful and intriguing woman for the night—one he might be able to help a little. And then he’d get to decamp to the cottage for the rest of the week, feeling good about himself.
Life was great.
* * *
There should be laws against men looking quite that good in a suit. Men she was determined to resist, anyway. If Dennis had ever looked even half as good maybe they would have managed more than a few coffees and the occasional fake date when he needed a partner for a university dinner or she needed someone for a family event.
Actually, no, they wouldn’t. Quite aside from the fact that Dennis became intensely irritating after more than a couple of hours in his company, she’d never felt that...spark—that connection she needed to take the risk of building an actual relationship. To her surprise, Ben Hampton had a spark. Not a relationship one, of course, but maybe something more intense. Something that definitely hadn’t been there the last time they met. Which was just as well, as he’d been dating her roommate at the time. But there was definitely something.
It was almost a shame she didn’t have the time, energy or courage to take him up on his offer to find out exactly what.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and her fingers itched to reach for it. She hadn’t called her mother back, and she’d only worry if she didn’t hear from her. Well, actually, she probably wouldn’t. Tabitha saved her concern for Tom and Dolly, safe in the knowledge that Luce could take care of herself far better than the rest of them.
Still, she’d get annoyed, which was even worse, and pull a guilt trip on Luce next time they spoke.
She really should call her back. But Ben’s arm held her hand trapped against his body, and she could feel the warmth of him even through his coat and suit jacket. Was that intentional? Trying to cut her off from her real life and keep her in this surreal bubble of a night he’d created?
Ben Hampton had invaded her life and her personal space since she’d bumped into him again, only a couple of hours ago, and she’d let him. Sat back and let him take charge, point out the problems in her life, rearrange all her plans for the evening. What had happened to taking responsibility and control?
Okay, she needed a new plan for the night. Something to wrest back control. At the very least she needed to know if he remembered her...
She shivered as they left the hotel lobby, the bitter night air stinging her face and her lungs. Icicle Christmas lights dangled above the cobbled streets, twinkling in the night like the real thing. Ben tugged her a little closer, and she wondered how it was he stayed so warm despite the winter chill.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, belatedly realising he hadn’t even told her where he was taking her. Some fancy restaurant, probably, she’d figured when pulling out the dress she’d packed for the conference gala dinner. But that wasn’t the point. No one knew where she was—least of all her. It was madness. She was out in a strange city at night with a man she barely knew. A little surreptitious internet searching in the bar while he’d been fetching the drinks had told her the bare bones of his professional career since university—which mostly seemed to be doing whatever his father needed him to do—but it hadn’t told her what sort of a man he was. She hadn’t seen him in eight years, and she hadn’t known him all that well back then. He certainly hadn’t been the kind of guy the twenty-year-old Luce had willingly spent time with. This was foolishness beyond compare. Dennis would be horrified.
Of course her mother would probably be relieved. Tabitha had always been a little afraid that her daughter had inherited none of her more flighty attributes at all.
‘A little French restaurant I know,’ Ben said, answering the question she’d almost forgotten she’d asked. ‘It’s up past the Cross, on the Rows. You okay to walk in those shoes?’
‘Of course.’ Luce spoke the words automatically, even though the balls of her feet had started to smart as she struggled over the cobbles. Show no weakness. That was another of her grandad’s rules to live by. If she couldn’t keep the other one tonight, she might as well try to hang on to something.
‘You never used to wear shoes like that.’
Luce couldn’t tell if the warm feeling that settled over her shoulders at Ben’s words was relief or confusion. ‘You do remember me, then?’ she blurted out before she could stop herself. ‘I wasn’t sure.’
‘You think I invite strange women up to my suite all the time?’
Luce shrugged. ‘University was a long time ago. I have no idea what kind of man you are now. And, actually...’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Ben rolled his eyes. ‘Eight years ago I’d have invited all women up to my room.’
‘I hope you’ve grown up a little since then.’ A hitch in Ben’s step made her glance up. ‘What?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing. Just depends who you ask.’
Picking up speed again, Ben led them up the very steep steps onto the medieval Rows, a second layer of shops and restaurants above the street-level ones. The historian in Luce was fascinated by the structure—the timber fronts, the overhanging storey above making a covered walkway. There was no other example in the world—the Chester Rows were unique. She should be savouring every detail.
And instead all she could think was, He remembers me. Well, at least she knew now. Except...just because he remembered her, that didn’t mean he remembered the last time they’d seen each other.
Maybe he’d forgotten it entirely. And maybe that meant she could, too.
It was too cold for much more conversation. They made their way along the Rows, Luce tucked tightly into Ben’s body for warmth, until he said, ‘Here we are,’ and Luce’s whole body relaxed at the sight of a cosy little restaurant tucked away behind a few closed shops with sparkling Christmas window displays.
‘Thank God for that,’ she said, smiling up at Ben. ‘I’m freezing.’
CHAPTER FOUR
SMILING UP AT HIM, complaining about the cold, Luce seemed relaxed for the first time. As if this was any usual date, not a peculiar arrangement to help an uptight woman cut loose. And she remembered him. That was a start. He wasn’t sure he could have made it all through dinner without knowing.
Ben pushed open the door to La Cuill?re d’Argent and let Luce walk into the warmth first. Her face brightened in the candlelit restaurant, and she glanced back at him with surprise on her face.
‘I’m overdressed,’ she said, taking in the rustic wooden tables and chairs. There weren’t many other people eating there, but those who were wore mostly casual clothes.
‘You look perfect.’ He smiled at the waiter approaching. ‘Table for two, please?’
Seated at a candlelit table in the window, looking out at the people hurrying past, Luce stripped off her coat and asked, ‘How did you know about this place?’
‘Not what you were expecting?’
She shook her head, and Ben knew what she was thinking. She’d expected somewhere impressive, somewhere fancy and expensive—somewhere that would make her feel kindly towards him when he paid, possibly impressed enough to take him to bed when they got back to the hotel. Somewhere like The Edge. Somewhere that said, I’m Ben Hampton and I’ve just inherited half of a multi-million-pound hotel chain, and I still have time to flatter and treat you. Aren’t you impressed?
But that would have defeated the object of the evening. He wanted Luce to relax, and he knew she wasn’t the sort to be impressed by or enjoy over-priced, over-fiddly food. Too practical for that, with her epic ‘To Do’ lists and her martyr complex. She’d probably feel guilty the whole time, which wouldn’t help his cause at all.
No, he needed somewhere cosy and intimate, somewhere he could actually talk to her, learn about her life since uni, find out what made her tick. This place was perfect for that. Ben blinked in the candlelight as he realised, belatedly, that he wanted to know her. Not just seduce her or entertain her. He wanted to know the truth of Luce Myles.
Of course seducing her was still firmly part of the plan. He just didn’t mind a little small talk first.
‘Have you been here before?’ Luce asked, scanning the wine list. ‘Do you live in Chester?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Just visiting to check on the hotel. But I came here with my mother years ago. She was born in France, you see. Knew every great French restaurant in the country.’ It must have been fifteen years ago or more, he realised. ‘I checked while you were in the bath to make sure it was still here, actually. It really has been a while.’
‘What does it mean?’ Luce asked, staring at the front of the menu, where the restaurant name curled across the card. ‘“La Cuill?re d’Argent”,’ she read slowly.
‘The Silver Spoon,’ Ben translated, tapping a finger against the picture under the words—an ornate piece of silverware not unlike the ones on the table for their use.
‘I like it,’ Luce announced, smiling at him over the menu.
Ben’s shoulders dropped as a tension he hadn’t realised he was feeling left him. That was wrong. She was the one who was supposed to be relaxing. He was always relaxed. That was who he was.
‘Good,’ he said, a little unnerved, and motioned a waiter over to order a carafe of white wine to start. He rather thought he might need it tonight.
They made polite conversation about the menu options, and the freshly baked bread with olive tapenade the waiter brought them, before Luce asked, ‘So, if you’re just visiting, where is home these days?’
Ben shrugged. Home wasn’t exactly something he associated with his stark and minimalist penthouse suite. And since he hadn’t been to the cottage in Wales for over a year, and the ch?teau in France for far longer, he was pretty sure they didn’t count.
‘I’m based out of London, but mostly I’m on the road. Wherever there’s a Hampton & Sons hotel I’ve got a bed for the night, so I do okay.’
Across the table Luce’s eyes widened with what Ben recognised as pity. ‘That must be hard. Not having anywhere to call home.’
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