Modern Romance March 2015 Collection 2. Jane Porter

was she supposed to share a room with the man standing in front of her? How could he look so cool and collected when she was suddenly a bundle of nervous tension?

      ‘You might want to freshen up,’ Lucas said neutrally. He nodded in the direction of the en suite bathroom, which she saw was as big as the bedroom, which was huge.

      ‘We can’t share a room.’

      ‘I won’t be breaking that to my mother at this point in time, Milly, so you might as well settle into the idea. What’s the problem anyway?’

      ‘The problem is that I don’t even know you...’

      ‘It wasn’t a problem when we were in Courchevel,’ Lucas pointed out with infuriating logic. ‘And frankly, thanks to your reckless habit of saying what you want and asking whatever questions you choose to ask, you probably know me a lot better than most.’ And that was a shocking revelation. But true. A certain, intangible unease snaked through him.

      ‘We weren’t sharing a bedroom there. We were sharing a mansion.’

      ‘But, on the upside, at least now you know that I’m not a homicidal maniac or a ski instructor on the lookout for a body to take to bed.’

      ‘I didn’t sign up for this.’

      ‘For what, exactly?’ His voice was silky smooth and those midnight-dark eyes watching her speculatively made her feel hot and tingly all over.

      All those forbidden thoughts that had crowded into her head from the very first moment she had laid eyes on him surfaced with frightening ease.

      Thoughts of him touching her, tasting her; crazy, stupid thoughts that were just the product of a fevered mind unbalanced by the trauma of a broken engagement.

      Except, when was the last time she had thought about Robbie? How traumatised had she really been, exactly? If her heart had been broken, wouldn’t she have still been cooped up somewhere, licking her wounds and thinking about a future that wasn’t going to happen?

      ‘Cling to the prospect of what you’re getting out of this,’ he advised her. ‘And, if it puts your mind at ease, I’m happy to take the couch.’ He’d contemplated the enticing prospect of taking her to bed—before she had discovered who he really was and all the advantages that came wrapped up with him. She might make a big deal of her maidenly virtue, but how long would it be before she began really looking round his mother’s mansion; before she heard about all the other houses he owned, scattered across the globe like unused jewels waiting to be aired when the occasion arose?

      Take one self-confessed romantic, tie it up with a broken heart and then into the mix throw one billionaire with a healthy libido and what did you come out with?

      Complications. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. And, when it came to complications of an emotional nature, well, that was something Lucas could do without.

      So if that quirky something about her got to him...if there was something about her unruly hair and sexy little body that got his imagination firing on all cylinders...he would have to put it to rest. He was accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted with the opposite sex but, in this instance, his hands were tied and he wasn’t about to untie them so that he could play with a bit of fire.

      Milly eyed the couch with jaundiced eyes. Okay, so he wouldn’t be sharing the bed with her—the gigantic king-size bed with its gauze canopy—but she would still be aware of him sleeping only a matter of metres away.

      And that shouldn’t be a problem. He certainly didn’t see it as one. Maybe he had flirted slightly with her, in his few days as a ski instructor, but that was then.

      ‘I’m not accustomed to sharing a bedroom,’ she protested feebly and his face relaxed into a disbelieving, mocking half smile.

      ‘You were engaged...’ He drew that one sentence out as though it was explanation in itself that she wasn’t quite telling the truth.

      Milly reddened, mouth dry. ‘You keep reminding me of that,’ she said in a valiant attempt to change the course of the conversation because she didn’t like where it was heading. ‘I guess in a minute you’ll start lecturing me about not facing reality and being a hopeless romantic and burying my head in the sand...’

      Lucas narrowed his eyes on her. ‘You didn’t share a bedroom with the guy?’ he asked, honing in on the truth with deadly accuracy. He watched the way she guiltily glazed over and licked her lips. He knew that he shouldn’t pursue the topic because, frankly, there was no point. This wasn’t a ‘getting to know you’ exercise, after all, although stable doors and horses sprang to mind, resuscitating that unease he had earlier felt. They knew each other... Like it or not, weird though it seemed...

      ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ Milly said haughtily. ‘And I think I’ll have that shower you mentioned...’

      ‘Course it’s my business,’ he told her with just the sort of slow smile that implied that shrewd mind of his was leaping to all sorts of correct conclusions about her relationship with Robbie. ‘We’re in love. Isn’t that what star-struck lovers do—share everything?’

      ‘You...you’re...’ She spluttered furiously at him and he grinned.

      ‘You’re like a little spitting cat.’

      ‘If your mother was a fly on the wall, she’d get a pretty good picture of how not star-struck lovers we are!’ She could all but get the words out. The man was infuriating! There wasn’t a human being on the planet who could work her up so fast and so effortlessly.

      ‘Or...’ Lucas held her gaze but he was still grinning ‘...she might decide that a little volatility is good when it comes to...being in love and star-struck...’

      ‘Well, she’d be wrong,’ Milly hissed, making a beeline for her case and rummaging until she had located some clothes. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have a bath.’

      Sure you don’t want me to join you? The instinctive riposte was on the tip of his tongue but then the thought of actually doing that, of actually sliding into the warm water with her, soaping her, feeling her curves pressed against him, slammed into him with the force of a runaway train and his mouth tightened.

      ‘I have work to do,’ he said abruptly. ‘Take your time. Dinner’s usually served around seven-thirty. Early by Spanish standards but my mother’s schedule is no longer what it was. I’ll either come and get you, take you down to the dining room, or I’ll dispatch one of the maids to show you the way.’

      Running a bath, door firmly locked, Milly figured that this was how it must feel like to be a toy at the whim of an unpredictable owner. He had managed to rile her, provoke her and then, when it felt as though she actually needed to have some sort of full-blown argument with him, needed to wipe that annoying, laid-back grin from his face, he changed, just like that, for no particular reason.

      Boredom.

      She eased herself into the bath and closed her eyes. He had suddenly become bored. He enjoyed provoking her and he knew he could. It amused him. But, like a kid with the attention span of a flea, his amusement had a very short sell-by date because, however different he might find her, she just didn’t have what it took to hold his attention for longer than five seconds. Thank goodness this was all just a fabrication! Because if it wasn’t then she would never be good enough for him, would she? Being different didn’t count. Being a novelty didn’t count.

      * * *

      She mentioned that over dinner. A fabulous dinner served by a different maid. A typically Spanish meal of paella rich with seafood with lots of salad. Just a casual little remark when there was a lull in the conversation, a little throwaway observation about her sheer amazement that she and Lucas had become involved, because they were just so different, because she was just the sort of girl he would find boring...

      Antonia