‘For such a great hulking oaf, you’re not so bad yourself.’ And if she couldn’t take the heat on the dance floor there were plenty of women watching Luke who could, Lucia concluded.
‘We fit so well together,’ he said, drawing her close.
So much of her was glued to Luke it was hard to disagree, but telling herself that Luke would never hurt her, or take advantage of her, didn’t help her heart to slow down. Again, she was worrying unnecessarily, for when the music stopped Luke escorted her back to the table.
‘That was so good!’ she exclaimed as he pulled her chair out, feeling as if everything bad that had happened in London must have floated away.
‘Will you excuse me, please, Lucia?’ Luke asked once she was seated.
‘Had enough of me?’ she teased, angling her chin in enquiry.
Dipping his head, he murmured in her ear, ‘There’s something I must do. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’
She glanced around as Luke left the restaurant, and noticed that every other woman was doing the same thing. Picking up her champagne glass, she gave a wry smile to think of so much man going to waste on her. She was about to take a sip of the sparkling wine when a man lost his balance and lurched into her table.
‘I’m afraid that seat’s taken,’ she explained politely.
Her stomach clenc
hed with alarm when the man ignored her and insisted on trying to sit down. He was so drunk he could barely stand, she realised. She glanced around, looking for help, but all the other diners were eating or chatting, and the waiters were busy.
It occurred to her then that before her experience with the concierge she could have handled something like this without missing a beat, but her brain seemed to have been rewired along with her confidence levels, and all she could force out of her mouth was a weak ‘Please don’t do that.’
The drunk ignored her.
It all seemed to be spinning out of control, just like the day in London when the concierge had locked them both in the staffroom. Her chest felt tight. She couldn’t breathe. And though a part of her brain said all this situation required was some firm action on her part she remained in a bubble of apprehension, waiting for the inevitable touch, the pinch, the grope.
Lurching forward, the drunk made a hideous munching sound as he reached for her breasts. In terror, she jerked back, and her drink flew everywhere as she rocked sideways off her chair.
Strong hands caught hold of her before she could fall to the floor. ‘Are you okay?’ Luke demanded in a shocked tone.
For a moment she could only stare at him in blank surprise, but then she slowly became aware that other people had gathered round and were staring at her with concern.
‘Did he hurt you, Lucia?’ Luke asked in a low, fierce voice.
‘No … No, I don’t think so.’ Luke was holding her hands so tightly they’d turned white. She realised she was gasping for breath like a landed fish. ‘I feel such a fool.’
‘Don’t.’ Shielding her from the onlookers with the bulk of his body, Luke lifted her out of the chair.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Questions later,’ he insisted, leading her out of the restaurant with one strong arm locked around her shoulders as he drew her into his body to keep her safe.
She glanced behind them. ‘My shawl!’
The maitre d’ handed it to Luke. Having thanked him, Luke asked for a bottle of good cognac to be sent up to his suite.
‘Right away, sir. We’re very sorry, sir. We’ll take care of it right away.’ The maitre d’ hurried away.
‘I can’t believe I only left you for a couple of minutes and someone tried to spoil your birthday,’ Luke grated out as he stabbed the elevator button.
Luke’s eyes were full of concern when he turned to search her face. She had really blown it now. ‘Nothing could spoil my birthday.’ Nothing except her weak, pathetic, shaking voice—which was more proof, should he need it, that something dreadful must have happened to turn the sexy, confident, party-girl Luke had used to know into the woman he held in his arms right now.
Needless to say, he picked up on it right away.
‘Is this the girl who could stand up to four fierce brothers?’ he demanded tensely. ‘What has happened to you, Lucia? What happened in London?’
‘Nothing,’ she insisted, shivering as the elevator doors slid closed, enclosing them in the small cabin. Surely it couldn’t contain so much emotion?