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Her mouth thinned painfully. It certainly was not for the pleasure of her company, that was for sure! She was punishingly aware, and it made her feel horribly constrained herself, that he’d not spoken a word to her except that totally unfair comment just now, which had stung her to the quick. And he was broadcasting on every frequency the fact that he had no interest whatsoever in her being with him.
So why had he stipulated that he required her presence?
As she did what was presumably her duty at his side—being his ‘plus one’ for the evening—it started to dawn on her why he might have insisted she come with him tonight.
Did he want to keep other women at bay? Was that it? Because it was clear, now that she paid attention to it, that he was being eyed up—covertly and not so covertly—by female eyes all around. Her mouth thinned painfully again. She couldn’t blame them for gazing at him. All women would take one look and crave him.
The way I do.
She pushed the bleak, hopeless thought out of her head, letting the familiar anguish fill her instead. She had had her chance with Luke and had walked out on it. Although it had been for reasons way beyond her control at the time, the result had been the same—she had left when she had desperately wanted to stay, and her lack of courage in that moment had spoiled everything.
He doesn’t want me any more. There’s nothing left of what there was. Nothing at all...
She sighed. All that was between them now was the fact that, for some reason she really didn’t understand, he had brought her here to do a job. She must be grateful for that. Grateful that he’d heard her plea not to be evicted from the Marbella villa immediately. Grateful for the generous terms he’d offered. And that generosity was undeniable, she knew. What she would have been paid for her interior design skills wasn’t even close to three months’ market rate rent on the villa.
No wonder he wanted her to do every extra he cared to chuck at her, she thought bitterly. From being his secretary—however useless he thought her—to accompanying him to glitzy networking events like this, the purpose of which, she could only suppose, was to shield him from a horde of eager females waiting for their opportunity to pounce.
He seemed to be making methodical progress around the room, selecting various individuals to talk to, and from his conversation it was clear to Talia that for him this was simply an extended business meeting. She didn’t follow most of it, confining herself to shadowing him meekly and being mindful not to ‘flirt’—as he had so sneeringly and so unfairly put it. She stayed as modest and docile as she could, while trying not to appear dull or boring.
It was more of a skill than she knew Luke would credit, and it had been learned from years beside her father.
The thought was bleak, bringing home to her just how little she meant to Luke. Less than little.
‘Right, we can leave now.’
His voice interrupted her painful cogitations. She felt her elbow gripped again—in that tight, commanding hold that steered her purposefully in any direction he wanted. They were soon crossing the large room, pausing only for Luke to shake hands several times and make his farewells as they left. Dutifully, Talia, too, murmured her goodbyes, bestowed civil smiles, and then, finally, they were outside in the warm night air, before the chill of the air-conditioned car enveloped her.
Luke threw himself in beside her, leaning forward to instruct the driver.
Talia heard him give the name of the island’s most famous hotel.
Now what?
It was dinner. As docilely as she had at the minister’s cocktail party, Talia walked in beside Luke, the skirts of her evening gown swishing around her legs. She was grateful she’d packed it, having not been sure just what she should bring with her. It was a world away, she thought with a pang, from the tightly sheathing dark red dress she’d worn at the party where she’d met Luke. This, like all her evening gowns, had been chosen to suit her father’s taste—fussier and more embellished than she would have liked. But her father had wanted her to look expensive, to show the world how wealthy he was.
Her eyes shadowed. That life had gone for ever, and now she was picking her way across the bomb site that was all she and her mother had left. She was trying to protect her mother as best she could, whatever it took. Including being here like this with Luke.
It was a mockery—oh, such a mockery—of the way they’d been that magical evening at the party! The coldness of his manner burned her, as if she’d swallowed bitter acid.
With that sourness in her throat, she took her seat at the table reserved for them, quietly accepted the menu and started to peruse it. Why had Luke brought her here? If her role as minder—keeping females from pestering him—was no longer necessary, he could easily have sent her back to the villa. But, whatever his purpose in bringing her here, she just had to cope with it, however painful.
She stole a glance at him. He was absorbed in the menu, and then the wine list, his expression closed. The waiter came to pour water, bestow a basket of rolls upon the table, and then he stood and waited for their orders. She gave hers, smiling up at the young waiter, whose face split into a wide, answering smile as he repeated her order in his lilting Caribbean accent. She heard Luke give his order in the terse tone that was becoming grimly familiar to Talia. Then the waiter nodded and headed off.
‘Try not to flirt with the waiting staff, either.’
Talia’s snapped her head towards Luke, eyes widening. ‘I wasn’t!’ she said, breathless with indignation.
‘He couldn’t take his eyes off you,’ came his reply. His eyes narrowed. ‘No man can.’
He glanced towards another table nearby, where two men were openly casting their eyes in Talia’s direction. He couldn’t blame them. Even in that unflattering evening gown of hers she was the most beautiful woman in the room. His jaw tightened, and he felt the scythe of emotion scissoring within him yet again. She’d been the most beautiful woman at the cocktail party and she was the mos
t beautiful woman here.
The most beautiful woman anywhere she goes...
His eyes swept back to her. She’d dipped her head at his words, that wash of colour he’d seen before when he’d spoken sharply to her flushing across her sculpted cheeks.
It made him angry. But it was an anger that came from deep within. An anger that was in himself—at himself. He could feel his gaze drinking her in, absorbing the way the long lashes of her tawny eyes dusted the delicate curve of her cheek, how her rich mouth trembled, how the sweep of her hair exposed the graceful line of her throat...
