Modern Romance December 2019 Books 5-8. Jane Porter

while Lucas preferred an ivory tower—just so long as there was a stable close by.

      Spirits were high when the Party Planners team assembled for a last-minute briefing in the office adjacent to the ballroom. This was a glamorous and exciting occasion, and, even in a packed diary of similar glamorous and exciting occasions, the Da Silva party stood out, mainly because the owner and founder of the company was in the building. There wasn’t a single member of the team who hadn’t heard about Lucas Da Silva, or wondered what he was like in person. His prowess in business was common knowledge, as was his blistering talent on the polo field, together with his uncanny ability to train and bring on winning racehorses. Everyone was buzzing at the thought of seeing him, even from a distance, and that included Stacey.

      Would she stand up to him as she had in the past?

      Would she toss a drink over his date if he had one?

       Resist! That’s just nerves talking.

      Or would their client relationship get in the way of all that? The only thing that mattered, she reminded herself firmly, was proving to Lucas that she and the team were the best people for this job.

      Her first sight of Lucas Da Silva sucked the air from her lungs. At least he was alone, with no companion in sight. Yet. Whatever she’d been expecting, pictured or imagined, nothing came close to how Luc looked now. Hot back in the day in breeches or a pair of old jeans he was unbelievably attractive in a formal dinner suit. And five years had done him favours. Taller than average, he was even more compelling. Age had added gravitas to his quiver of assets. Dressed impeccably with black diamonds glittering at his cuffs, he’d left one button open on his shirt and wore his bow tie slung around his neck. Only Lucas, she mused with a short, rueful laugh. Built like a gladiator, with shoulders wide enough to hoist an ox, he exuded the type of dangerous glamour that had every woman present attempting to attract his attention. With the exception of Stacey, for whom familiarity had bred frustrated acceptance that Lucas probably still thought of her as the annoying younger sister of his friend.

      She recognised the expression of tolerance mixed with tamped-down fire on his face, and knew what had caused it. Lucas was happiest mounted on the strongest stallion, testing the animal, testing himself. This easy life of unsurpassed luxury and entitlement was not for him, not really—he paid lip service to the world into which his tech savvy had launched him. Having said that, he’d look amazing no matter whether his bow tie was neatly tied or hanging loose—probably best wearing nothing at all, though she would be wise not to allow her thoughts to stray in that direction. It was enough to say the pictures in magazines didn’t come close to doing him justice. Power emanated from him. As she watched him work the room, she could imagine sparks of testosterone firing off him like rockets on the fourth of July.

      Yes, he was formidable, but she had a job to do. She would welcome him to the event, and be ready to take any criticism he might care to offer, and then act on it immediately. She had to secure that next contract. The annual Da Silva event in the mountains was even bigger than this banquet but when news leaked, as it surely would, that Lady Sarah was ill, would Lucas trust Stacey to take her place?

      He had to. She’d make sure of it any way she could.

      As the team left to complete their various tasks, Stacey had a moment to think. Her thoughts turned to the man her gaze was following around the ballroom. Forget five years ago when she’d been a blundering intern, trying her best and achieving her worst by spilling a drink down his date, all she could think about was that kiss…that almost kiss, when her feelings had triumphed over her rational mind. Teenage hormones had played a part, but that couldn’t be the whole story or why would she feel now that if she had Lucas boxed in a corner she’d do exactly the same thing? She was a woman, not a flush-faced teen, and she had appetites like everyone else.

      She broke off there to go and check that there was enough champagne on ice, with more crates waiting to fill the spaces in the chiller as soon as the first batch had left for the tables. It was inevitable as she worked that she thought about Lucas. He’d been there the day she’d decided to leave home, and had played a large part in her decision. She’d felt very differently about him on that occasion, and tightened her mouth now at the memory. He’d found her in the stable saying goodbye to the colt she’d cared for all its lively, spirited, magical life. She could even remember looking around, heart racing, thinking Lucas had come to tell her that he’d changed his mind and that she could keep Ludo, but instead he’d offered her money. What had hurt even more was that he’d understood so little about her. If he’d thought cold cash could replace a beloved animal, he hadn’t known her at all. Her father had promised he would never sell Ludo. They’d breed from him, he’d said. But he’d lied.

      She’d learned later that Lucas hadn’t realised Ludo was her horse when he’d made the offer, but her father had sold him on without even telling her. That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. She’d been thinking about leaving the restrictions of the farm, and after that there had been no reason to stay. The only way she could ever keep an animal was by funding it herself, and to do that she had to study and gain qualifications. A career was the only route to independence.

      She gave those members of the team dealing with the supply of drinks the go-ahead to stack the extra cases of champagne out of the way but close by the chiller ready to reload, and joined them in moving the heavy boxes. Lucas wasn’t to blame for her decision to leave home, she reflected as she got into the rhythm of lift, carry and lower. Actually, she should thank him. This was a great job, and she had fantastic co-workers. Even out of sight of the ballroom the atmosphere was upbeat and positive.

      What a contrast to life on the farm, she reflected as she gave everyone their official half-hour notice to the doors opening to the Da Silva guests. Everyone here supported each other and remained upbeat. Whatever challenges they might face, they faced together. She was happy here amongst friends. Her father had never liked her, and his new wife liked Stacey even less. With Ludo gone there had been no reason not to leave the isolated farm. It had been a chance to test herself in the big city, and now she was a professional woman with a job to do, Stacey reminded herself as she hurried back to the ballroom on another mission. She’d do everything she could to keep Lucas happy tonight and Party Planners in business. She’d prove herself to him, in the business sense, that was—not that Lucas had ever shown the slightest interest in any other kind of relationship with her, she reflected wryly.

      She was halfway across the dance floor when a member of the team stopped her to say that some of the guests were swapping around the place cards on the tables so they could sit closer to Señor Da Silva.

      ‘Right,’ Stacey said, firming her jaw. ‘Leave this to me.’ They’d spent hours on the seating plan. A strict order of hierarchy had to be observed at these events, as it was all too easy to cause offence. Her guess was that Lucas wouldn’t care where he sat, but his guests would.

      By the time she had set things to rights there was no sign of him. Her stomach clenched with tension, requiring her to silently reinforce the message that when they met she would assume her customary cool, professional persona. It was important to keep on his right side to make sure he didn’t pull the next contract.

      Which didn’t mean the right side of his bed, she informed her disappointed body firmly.

       CHAPTER TWO

      HE BROODED WITH irritation as he caught sight of Stacey hurrying around the ballroom without once glancing his way. Dressed casually, with no make-up on her face and her hair scraped back, she still looked punch-in-the-gut beautiful to him. The run-up to any event was hectic, but that didn’t excuse her not seeking him out. Am I the client, or am I not?

       She’s busy. Isn’t that what you want and expect of a party planner in the hour before your guests arrive?

      He drew a steadying breath.