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‘To eat,’ Luke’s eyes darkened with amusement. ‘Oh—and, Lucia?’
‘Yes?’
‘Nice underwear.’
Oh-kay.
‘We shouldn’t keep Margaret waiting,’ he prompted, holding the door.
‘I’ll be right there.’
Just as soon as her heart had steadied.
She hesitated outside the kitchen door and then grasped the nettle. ‘Beer?’ she said casually, walking in. Luke was already seated at the head of the table, she noticed, bridling.
‘Sweetheart, beer is always good.’
‘What have I told you?’ she warned him on her way across the kitchen.
‘I promise never to call you sweetheart again.’
She glanced over her shoulder at Luke. His face was straight enough, but his eyes were dancing with laughter. She reached for a glass.
‘Can I help you do that?’
She inhaled sharply to find him at her side. Damn. Luke moved like a soft-pawed predator. ‘I can reach, thank you.’
‘I don’t need a glass.’
‘Then what do you want?’ she asked breathlessly.
&nbs
p; Luke’s mouth was very close to her ear, and although if anyone could make her lose her fear of men it was probably Luke, no way would she put that theory to the test.
‘Maybe I need to practise my bar skills on someone,’ she suggested, pulling away.
‘Practise away,’ he said, shooting her one last thoughtful look.
Still none the wiser as to what Luke had been up to in London, she decided to concentrate on being a consummate professional—something tangible within her reach. Thanks to Margaret’s excellent cooking she served the perfect meal. She served the perfect coffee too, and Luke was pleased.
‘If you continue like this you’ll have the place full in no time,’ he told Margaret. ‘That was delicious, thank you. I’ll take a look around now, and check out what’s got to be done about the décor and furnishings—’
‘That’s my department,’ Lucia interrupted.
‘Says …?’ Luke’s gaze narrowed.
‘Says me,’ Margaret confirmed. ‘That’s what Lucia and I have agreed.’
‘Oh, have you?’ Luke smiled at Margaret, but reserved another look entirely for Lucia.
The challenge made her stare him down—or attempt to. Then Luke stood and the sizeable farmhouse kitchen shrank around him. For a moment she wondered if he was going to thump the table and roar that no one decided who did what unless he signed it off.
‘Perhaps you two could check out the place together,’ Margaret suggested tactfully as the atmosphere in the kitchen took a dive. ‘I’ve asked Lucia to be my manager,’ she explained, as evenly as if she were pointing out the fact that Lucia’s new bucket and mop set was in a nicer shade of blue. ‘And Lucia has agreed. Isn’t that wonderful, Luke?’
‘We’ll discuss this later,’ Luke managed through gritted teeth.
‘Would you like to follow me?’ Lucia asked mildly.
