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Oh, well. Closing the door behind him, she leaned back against the polished wood, trying to fathom out whether all her painful revelations had brought them closer together or pushed them further apart.
Luke didn’t trust himself to stay a moment longer. He had wanted to grab hold of Lucia and hold her tight and safe for ever. It had taken all the will power he possessed to leave her at the door. Whatever she thought of him, he respected her bid for freedom and her need for time to put what had happened in London behind her. But she had smelled so good—so fresh and innocent. She had aroused every protective instinct in him. And, on the dark side, he wasn’t nearly done with kissing her yet.
Or with giving her gifts, Luke reflected as he climbed into his car.
It was ironic to think that Lucia had always been the risk-taker while he considered every move. Events in London had changed them both for ever, turning the world as they knew it onto its head. It would be some time before Lucia could trust a man again, and he had been so sure his soulmate would be a soothing, peaceful, calming beauty—no drama, no temperament, no ruffles in the smooth waters of his life.
When he reached the Grand his head was still full of Lucia. He stormed into his suite, took another shower and dried off. Dressing quickly, he told himself not to be so rash, and that work was the answer. Raking his damp hair impatiently, he crossed to the desk and tried to focus on a line of figures Lucia had asked him to look at. They blurred into her lovely face. Anger followed at the thought of the pain she had suffered when he hadn’t been there to stop it.
With a violent curse, he slammed the lid down on his laptop. ‘Crazy!’ he exclaimed. She made him laugh. She made him lust. She made him throw up his hands in exasperation.
He realised he hadn’t known a moment’s peace since his first day in St Oswalds, when he had spotted a wild and lovely young girl on the beach. He’d never seen anything like Lucia before. To him she had seemed like some exotic bird in comparison with the tame canaries back home. There hadn’t been a day since then when he hadn’t thought about her.
Lucia’s family had been too busy with their own concerns to notice the tightrope she was walking, but he had.
And now she didn’t need him. How did that feel?
It stuck in his craw.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Get a wax
Luke is right. I have to move on. No wonder he gave up and walked out on me. When did I turn into such a wuss? Picking up my old to-do list, I scoured it. Apart from more serious matters, what else have I been avoiding?
Oh, yes.
I drew a blank with the fast search company on the phone—maybe I wasn’t frank enough with the man on the other end of the line? Thankfully my chat with Grace from the club bore fruit. Not only will I not have to brave the chi-chi beauticians at the Grand and risk running into Luke, which would be embarrassing to say the least, but apparently there is a new place, a local place, a small and discreet place, tucked away in the backstreets of St Oswalds.
And, bonus! If the stress of what I am about to do gets too much for me, the salon also offers massage by Britain’s strongest woman.
Banker’s Bonus: I have managed to score their last appointment.
THE lights were pink neon; the windows were obscured glass. The words ‘Power Massage’ plastered over a banner didn’t exactly instil confidence in a girl who believed in preserving her body by never using it. But she wasn’t here for a massage, Lucia reassured herself as she opened the door.
‘Veruschka will be with you in a moment,’ the receptionist in the well-packed white uniform purred, staring up through a fringe of false black lashes as if she could read Lucia’s fear and knew she was dreading it. ‘Veruschka is verrry good … verrry gentle …’
Eek.
The door to the back room creaked open.
But it was only a really nice young girl, around Lucia’s age, with a high ponytail, hardly any make-up and a nice clean shirt and jeans.
‘Come this way, please,’ she said with a friendly smile.
Oh, this wasn’t going to be at all bad. What on earth had she been worried about?
Okay, so this might be a bit of a problem, Lucia conceded, holding up the paper thong when the girl had left her in the dressing room. Not that she hadn’t seen a thong before, but as the thin bit was at the back and the waxing wasn’t, which way round should she wear it?
Never mind. They’d given her a gown, and that nice girl would soon put her right if she’d got it wrong. ‘Veruschka …? I’m ready …’
‘This way, please.’
Had Veruschka turned into a man?
That wasn’t a young girl’s voice, Lucia reasoned, hovering nervously behind the plastic curtain.
She gasped as the curtain was ripped aside and a woman as tall as her brothers and at least as wide stood, beefy arms akimbo, waiting for her. ‘I am Veruschka,’ the Titan informed her.
