That the world without family was a hostile, angry place, and that all men didn’t behave with the same chivalry towards women as Luke and her brothers. She might resent their interference in her life, but she had never realised that honour was in such short supply before.
She almost choked on her relief as their coffee arrived and there was the usual interruption as the waiters set everything out in front of them. Luke pushed a dish of chocolates over to her side of the table without another word.
Lucia devoured the chocolates as she had devoured everything else within reach, with a freakish type of nervous energy—as if she were a squirrel storing up for winter. Whatever she was hiding from him it was big. The impulse to transfer money into her account ASAP so she could buy some proper food was banging in his head, but he could just imagine Lucia’s reaction if he tried. And something told him that a balanced diet was the least of her problems. But he could hope.
‘Are you eating properly?’
‘I eat too much.’ She grimaced.
A diet of cream teas and chocolate, if he remembered Margaret’s specialities correctly. And he wouldn’t be surprised if any money Lucia saved from her earnings went to help Margaret out rather than any payment flowing the other way. Lucia had always had a generous heart. Too generous sometimes.
‘Great music,’ she said, drawing his attention to the Salsa band.
‘They must have known you were coming,’ he said, remembering Lucia on the dance floor at her brother’s wedding. Recollections of that evening curled heat around him. ‘Would you like to dance?’
‘Oh, no, that’s okay,’ she said, pulling back in her chair.
‘I wouldn’t want to embarrass you with my skill,’ he agreed.
She relaxed. ‘Your skill?’ One brow rose. ‘Since when have polo players had any skill to speak of—unless they are mounted on a really great horse?’
‘Ouch.’
‘I’ve had the chance to practise that one,’ she admitted, with a wry spark from the old days in her look.
‘A few times, I imagine,’ he agreed. ‘Shall we?’ he said, standing up.
Her lips pressed down as she stared at his outstretched hand. ‘I suppose one dance won’t kill me.’
As he held her chair he felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of holding Lucia in his arms that had absolutely no connection with doing a favour for her brother.
CHAPTER SIX
The first step is the hardest. And after that it’s all downhill, right?
Not this time, because tonight when Luke took my hand and led me onto the dance floor the bad thoughts took flight and all I could see in my mind’s eye was Luke riding flat out across the sand. Riding bareback, bare-chested, wearing the designer jeans his mother always insisted her staff must put a crease down the front of. Luke wore them cut off and frayed, covered in hoof oil and wet with sea spray, so that they clung to his hard-muscled thighs.
He’d whoop as he overtook the last of my brothers, leaving them roaring with frustration in his wake, lying flat on his horse’s neck, encouraging it to go even faster. Wings of diamond-studded mist would spread out behind him as if he were riding Pegasus and they might take to the sky at any moment.
At least that was what I always imagined when I was fourteen, as I sat watching him from the shadows by the rock pool.
AS THEY threaded their way through the tables Luke’s warm palm in the hollow of her back was a badly needed wake-up call. Luke could read her like a book, so she had to cage all her wild, unfounded, fearful thoughts and place all imaginings about a romance with Luke in the never-going-to-happen box.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked with concern as she shivered with a whole mix of emotions when he gathered her in.
‘Just frightened for my feet,’ she managed dryly.
‘Don’t be,’ Luke murmured.
She needn’t have worried. Once they reached the dance floor Luke’s touch was light and impersonal, and he was careful to keep a space between them that would have made a maiden aunt feel safe.
He loved Salsa dancing. He loved the rhythm and the music and the contact—especially tonight, with Lucia moving so easily in his arms. Dance was liberating, and a great prelude to sex. Though not with Lucia, of course. He held her well away from him. But she moved so easily it wasn’t long before his mind strayed onto the dark side. Dance was like sex. Trust had to be established and then limits set. Timing was all-important too.
His appetite sharpened when Lucia, having grown so much in confidence during the dance that she was almost back to the girl he knew, escaped him to execute a few hot Salsa moves of her own. Other men were watching her, and he found he didn’t like that. And when she yipped, ‘Ay, caramba,’ laughing as she threw her head back so her luscious hair swept the full curve of her buttocks, he knew he was in for trouble. He could have watched her all night. Private viewing would be his preference …
Most men looked awkward on the dance floor, but Luke was so well coordinated he looked hot, and they moved well together.
‘You’re a great dancer, Lucia.’