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‘Looks like I’ll be working on the train,’ she muttered to herself, tugging her organiser from her bag to start a new ‘To Do’ list. She saved Tabitha’s message and her voicemail moved swiftly onto a harried conference organiser, apologising profusely for a ‘slight confusion’ with the hotel booking arrangements. Luce could hear the poor girl’s boss yelling in the background.
Sighing, Luce deleted the message. So, still homeless. Maybe she should call it quits and head back to Cardiff. She’d already given her lecture. And, interesting as the rest of the conference looked, it wasn’t worth going without a bed for. Except her ticket was non-refundable, and the walk-up price would be astronomical. But if it meant she could just go home it might be worth it.
Her phone buzzed in her hand and Luce automatically swept a finger across the screen to open the e-mail. The cheery informality of Dennis’s words set her teeth on edge from the first line.
Dr Luce! Bet you’re living it up in Chester. Don’t forget my summary on tomorrow’s lecture, will you? D.
See? Things could be worse. Dennis could have come to Chester with her. Fortunately he was far too important and busy to spend time away from the university. That was why he sent Luce instead. Of course now she had to attend a really dull lecture on his behalf and take notes, but that was a price worth paying for his absence.
Tossing her phone onto the table, Luce scanned the bar to see where Ben had got to with her drink. She needed to formulate a plan to get through the next week, and that would definitely be easier with an icy G&T in her hand. Except it didn’t look as if she’d be getting it any time soon.
At the bar, Ben Hampton had his phone clamped to his ear and was smiling at the redhead in the short skirt who’d claimed the barstool next to him. Typical. What did she expect from a man who offered to share his suite with a woman he barely knew? As if she needed further evidence that he hadn’t changed since university. His sort never did. Luce remembered well enough Mandy stomping into the flat at two in the morning, more than once, wailing about how she’d caught Ben out with another woman. Remembered the one time he’d ever shown any interest in her at all, when Mandy hadn’t been looking. Did he? she wondered. He’d been pretty drunk.
Luce narrowed her eyes as she observed him. But then he turned, leaning against the bar behind him, and raised that scarred eyebrow at Luce instead of at the redhead. A shiver ran across her shoulders and she glanced away. She really didn’t have time for the sort of distractions Ben’s smile promised. She had responsibilities, after all. And she knew far, far better than to get involved with men like Ben Hampton. Whatever game he was playing.
Take responsibility. Take control. She had to remember that.
Without looking up again, Luce grabbed her organiser and started planning how to get through her week.
* * *
Ben ignored his brother’s voice in his ear and studied Luce instead. She was staring at her diary, where it rested on her crossed legs, and brushed an escaped strand of hair out of her eyes. Her pen was poised over the paper, but she wasn’t writing anything. She looked like a woman trying to save the world one ‘To Do’ list at a time. His initial impression had definitely been right, even if he hadn’t seen her in nearly a decade. This was a woman who needed saving from herself.
Not my responsibility, though, he reminded himself. Not my fix this time.
‘So, what do you think?’ Sebastian asked down the phone. ‘Is it worth saving?’
‘Definitely,’ Ben answered, before realising that Seb was talking about the Royal Court Hotel, not Lucinda Myles. ‘I mean, yes—I think it’s worth working with.’ The Royal Court was a relatively new acquisition, and Ben’s job for the week was to find out how it ticked and how to make it work the Hampton & Sons way. ‘You stayed here, right? Before we bought it? I mean, you must have done.’
‘Dad did,’ Seb said, his voice suddenly darker. ‘I have his report, but...’
It was hard to ask questions about the room service and the bathroom refits when the old man was six feet under, Ben supposed. ‘Right—sure. And there were concerns?’
‘Perhaps.’ Seb sounded exactly as their father had, whenever he hadn’t said something that mattered. Keeping information from his youngest son because he didn’t trust him to step up and do his job. To take responsibility for making things right.
Ben had hoped Seb knew him better than their father had. Apparently not.
Perhaps that was just what happened when you spent your childhood in different boarding schools. With five years between them, Ben had always been too far behind to catch up with his talented older brother. He’d always wondered what life had been like for Seb before he came along.
