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‘Fine. I’ll type up a new evaluation tonight and get it over to you. Okay?’ It wouldn’t take long—especially if he could get the original report e-mailed over from head office. But work responsibilities could wait until later. First he had plans. Like finding out just how strokeable Dr Lucinda Myles really was under those clothes. Because of course she’d gone on to get her PhD. The woman was born for academia.
‘That’d be great,’ Seb said.
He sounded tired, and Ben could imagine him sitting behind Dad’s big oak desk, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Because now it wasn’t years and schools keeping them apart, it was the burden of responsibility.
Working together, especially since their father had died, had enabled Ben to get to know his brother better than ever before. They were close, he supposed, in their way. Possibly because neither of them really had anyone else.
And Seb was his brother before he was his boss. He had to remember that.
A stab of guilt at the thought made Ben ask, ‘Is there anything else you need me to do?’
The pause at the other end of the line suggested that there was, but whatever it was Seb obviously didn’t trust him to do it. ‘Nah, don’t worry about it. Enjoy your week in Chester. Take in a Roman relic or something. Or—no, you were planning on heading off to your cottage, weren’t you?’
‘I thought I might,’ Ben said cautiously. God, after the last twelve months all he wanted was to hole up in the middle of nowhere with a good bottle of whisky, some really great music and some old movies. ‘But if you need me back in the office—’
‘No. You haven’t had a holiday in nearly a year.’ Since before Dad died, went unspoken. ‘You deserve a break.’
Not as much as Seb did. The idea of persuading his ultra-responsible older brother to take time off was frankly laughable, but apparently Ben wasn’t nearly as essential to the well-being of Hampton & Sons. Something he might as well take advantage of, he supposed. ‘Well, you know where I am if you need me.’
‘In bed with a hot blonde?’ his brother joked, a hint of the old, relaxed Seb coming out.
Relief seeped through Ben at the sound of it. ‘Brunette, hopefully.’ Ben eyed Luce again. Still ignoring him. If she remembered him at all she probably felt exactly the same way about him as his father had—that he was still the same man she’d known him to be at twenty, incapable of growing up. Well, maybe he’d have a chance tonight to show her exactly what sort of man he’d grown into.
Seb’s laugh lacked any real humour. ‘Then I wish you luck. I’m sure you’ll have her begging you for more in no time.’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘And then you’ll just have to figure out how to get rid of her when she inevitably loses her head over you.’
Quite aside from the fact that Ben found it impossible to imagine Lucinda Myles losing her head over anyone, something in Seb’s words rankled.
‘Hey, be fair. I’m always honest with them. They know exactly what to expect. No commitment, no strings, no future, and—’
‘No more than one night together in a row,’ Seb finished for him. ‘I know. But they always think they’ll be the one to change you.’
Ben shrugged, even though Seb couldn’t see him. ‘Not my responsibility. I don’t do long-term.’
‘Just the short-term fix.’ Seb chuckled. ‘Well, if that’s all you want enjoy yourself. I’ll see you back in London on Friday.’ He hung up.
Ben put his brother’s mocking out of his head. As if Seb was any better, anyway. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen him with a date.
Life was all about priorities, their father had always said. And just because Ben had never shared David Hampton’s priorities when he was alive, and didn’t intend to start now, that didn’t make the sentiment any less valid.
His priorities weren’t love and marriage. And his priority for the night certainly wasn’t Seb and the business. It was Luce Myles. Grabbing two gin and tonics from the bartender, Ben was pretty sure he knew exactly how to get under her skin.
* * *
Luce’s ‘To Do’ list was stretching to several pages by the time Ben finally returned with their drinks.
‘Queue at the bar?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows as he placed the glasses on the table. A girl couldn’t be expected to deal with so many demands on her without a drink.
‘Phone call from the office,’ he countered with an apologetic smile.
She supposed that running a hotel chain did require some level of responsibility, hard though it was to imagine from Ben Hampton. On the other hand, he had described it as the ‘Hampton & Sons’ chain, so maybe he was just the heir apparent, running errands for Daddy, and the phone call was about him maxing out his company credit card. That would explain a lot, actually.
