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That inner shiver came again. Her father, too, had liked to celebrate any major kill he’d made in the marketplace. A new car—the latest model of whatever was the most expensive brand at the time—had been his favoured object of conspicuous display, his way of showing off his success to the world.
Again, she was grateful as Luke replied to her deliberately teasing comment.
‘Diamonds would look better on you than me,’ he said dryly. He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Come on—stop drooling like a magpie!’ His voice changed, grew husky. ‘I want to get you home.’
He paused to drop a kiss on her mouth—lingering enough to let her know why he was so keen to get her home, just swift enough to keep it decent in public.
But as he bore her off across the lobby to get her into the car, so he wouldn’t have to care about public behaviour, he found himself glancing back at the display of glittering jewellery. So she liked the ruby bracelet?
A smile flickered around his mouth as he walked by her side.
Well, why not? He was in the mood to be indulgent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I’LL TAKE A swatch of this one, and this...and this. And that one. And let’s try that one as well.’ Talia smiled as the woman nodded, reaching for her scissors to cut the strips of fabric that her customer had
selected.
Talia got out her notebook, noting the fabric names and colours, then checking the price per metre for each of them and adding that too. She tapped the book in satisfaction. There—that was a start. And it was looking promising.
She launched into a technical discussion with the woman, of widths and weights and thread counts and finishes. This was where she was in her element, and she was loving it. Loving being able to get totally stuck in to the next stage of turning her creative vision into reality.
The saleswoman was enthusiastic—as well she might be, Talia acknowledged, given the value of her custom if Luke were to agree to her proposals.
Oh, please let him like what I’ve come up with. Please let him agree with my vision for the place! I so, so want it to be beautiful and for him to love it like I do.
She knew she had to be careful in her costings. Luke had made it very clear he wanted value for money. Her mouth tightened in grim memory. But she was used to having to justify every pound she spent. Her father had always given her the tightest budget he could get away with, and there had never been any question that he would tolerate her exceeding it by so much as a penny.
She shook her head free of unpleasant memories. Her work here was completely different. This was a labour of love.
She smiled to herself. Thoughts fluttered deep inside, in a place she scarcely dared acknowledge. A labour of love, indeed—and not just for the sake of bringing back to vivid, vibrant life that sad, hurricane-blasted hotel.
It was for Luke’s sake.
The man she loved.
Her smile became rueful. Out of love, she had let him do what she knew she shouldn’t have that very morning.
As promised, he’d taken her to the upmarket shopping mall he’d mentioned, getting her to choose two more evening gowns, several sundresses, and a handful of ultra-brief bikinis and diaphanous wraps. She’d tried not to see the price tickets, for she knew she should not have let him buy such expensive things for her, but he had been insistent, and it had so obviously given him pleasure to do it.
So she’d squared her conscience by telling herself that she’d be wearing them for him, not for herself—that it would be to bring into his eyes that light of open appreciation that she so loved to see...the one that turned so swiftly to sensual desire.
She quivered with the little thrill that kicked in her pulse simply at the memory of how he could make her feel and how he made her respond. She gloried in it. It was like walking on air, floating in a haze of happiness. This was really happening to her; the man of her dreams was making her his own.
She all but skipped out of the shop, checking the time. Luke had left her to her own devices after they’d lunched at a beachfront restaurant, heading off for yet another meeting with architects and planning officials. But they were to meet for sundowner cocktails at a fashionable bar by the marina, and she quickened her step, for she still had more calls to make.
She was seeking out furniture, window treatments, bedding, and crockery—and then, if local suppliers didn’t prove possible, a couple of import-expert companies to handle bringing goods in from abroad, all of which would require precise costings and copious paperwork. But she would include it all in what she presented to Luke—and hope that it would convince him to use her designs.
Multiple calls kept her busy, and by the time she reached the cocktail bar at the end of the afternoon Luke was already in the open-air lounge, looking sinfully relaxed, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a ferocious-looking margarita in his hand. He wore even more ferociously expensive sunglasses that made her go weak at the knees.
‘Had fun?’ he enquired lazily.
‘Hugely!’ She laughed, sitting herself down and ordering a fruit-based rum cocktail from the immediately attentive waiter. She fished inside one of her carrier bags. ‘Do you want to see some of the materials I’m sampling?’ she asked.
Luke waved his glass in negation. ‘Not right now,’ he said casually.
He didn’t want to sound dismissive. She’d clearly had an enjoyable session—choosing colours and fabrics, or whatever it was she thought passed for work—but he didn’t want his time wasted over something hopelessly amateurish, and he couldn’t bear to have his infatuation with her diminished if she brought out tasteless designs. He wouldn’t be able to lie and smile and pretend it was good work. If what she was going to produce was anything like what she’d done for her father’s buildings then she had absolutely no eye for colour, style, or shape.
