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‘Have you told my sister about the baby?’
‘No, and tonight is Karina’s night, so I won’t be mentioning it.’
Luc remained silent as he waited for her to go ahead of him.
‘Is there something else?’ She paused, close enough to feel his heat warming her.
‘You haven’t mentioned missing me.’
Tingles shimmered down her spine.
‘No, that’s right, I haven’t.’ With a last quick glance in his direction, she walked away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE USUAL CHAOS REIGNED. This was his sister’s annual party madness. He had detailed a squad of security guards to keep an eye on things, but he patrolled the vast marquee, because control was important to him. Control was vital.
He was looking for one person, and she had not arrived. The noise was ferocious. Even when he left the tent and checked outside, the noise inside easily crested the sound of the surf. This year’s celebration was being held on the beach, far away from the hotel and the sensibilities of his guests. He’d had a vast marquee erected on a piece of land he owned. The suggestion Emma had made about new real estate was ticking away in the back of his mind. He could just as easily build an annex to the hotel here.
Emma was strong on ideas—strong in many ways. For once in his life he regretted that past experiences had made him the man he was and long-term relationships were off his radar. Life had taught him to be a realist. He’d move on, and so would she.
His mouth tugged a little as he turned back to face this year’s extravaganza. His sister was an events organiser second to none, which was why he’d hired her. His company was too fast-moving, too successful, to allow for nepotism. Karina’s ideas were always off the wall, which was what made her stand out in the industry.
This year’s theme was the Arabian Nights, which meant the colossal tent was decked out in every exotic shade under the sun. The walls were composed of billowing silk sheets in a variety of jewel colours, while countless torches lit the scene. There were bare-chested waiters offering guests drinks, and bonfires on the beach where couples or groups could retire to cook their own food if they felt the need to escape the frenzy of the party for a while. The roof of the marquee was pleated and gathered into a small turret enclosed by a golden crown, on top of which flew a flag embellished with the letters K.M.
It was extravagant, but he would do anything for the sister who was lucky to be alive. Never a day passed when he didn’t remember that he had put her in mortal danger.
And with that thought making him edgy, he searched again for Emma. Where was she? And where was his sister? He didn’t know how he felt about the two of them being in cahoots, but he did know that Karina should be here to greet her guests.
What would Emma be wearing tonight? He’d seen that flash of fire in her eyes, enough to remind him of the wild woman he’d bedded in London. He doubted Emma would ever lose that side of her completely—he hoped she wouldn’t. He straightened up as he saw her coming down the path. As he had suspected she would be, Emma was arm in arm with his sister. Her laughter reached him first, and then her jade-green gaze settled on his. Tilting her chin at the defiant angle he was becoming used to, she walked straight past him across the sand. The chiffon robe she was wearing was the same colour as her eyes and floated behind her as she walked. Her feet were bare, except for dainty flat, strappy sandals, and she’d painted her toenails shell pink. They gleamed iridescently in the moonlight, while her skin looked paler than usual, highlighting the differences between them.
He felt like a barbarian lusting after a nymph. It was an arousing thought. In a totally frivolous touch Emma had secured a band of paste emeralds around her brow in an attempt to contain her long red hair. Defying these efforts, it floated around her shoulders like a fiery cloak. He had to have her tonight or he’d go mad.
‘But we’re just going to dance,’ his sister protested, when he came to stand between them.
‘You should greet your guests,’ he told Karina. ‘Shall we?’ he said to Emma. Without waiting for her answer, he linked arms with her and led her away.
‘That was high-handed.’ Emma arched a brow as she stared up at him.
She didn’t attempt to move away, he noted.
‘You are impossible, Lucas,’ she said, using his full name to show her disapproval. ‘You think you can push everyone around, even your own sister, but don’t expect me to come running when you snap your fingers.’
