Even his mouth was sexy, and, like a magnet, was drawing her in. And then there was his scent: warm, clean man, laced with citrus and sandalwood. Damn him for making her feel as if anything he had to say or do was fine by her. She should have stayed until she’d checked every table for lost items, made sure the staff had all gone to bed, and then departed for her room, too tired to think about Lucas.
Where she would continue her lonely existence? She’d made lots of friends since leaving home, but they had their own lives, and carving a village out of a city as big and diverse as London wasn’t easy. She had achieved her goal in maintaining her independence and progressing her career, but there was a price to pay for everything, and romance had passed her by. It would have been safer not to dance with Lucas, but he was an anchor who reminded her of good things in her past. Teasing and tormenting him, laughing with him, caring for the animals they loved side by side, had bred an intimacy between them went beyond sex. There was a time when she’d rather have had Lucas tell her that he admired her horsemanship than her breasts, and that was still partly true today. In her fantasies, being held safe in his arms was always the best option, but this wasn’t safe. His hands on her body as they danced and his breath on her cheek couldn’t remotely be called safe. It was a particular type of torture that made her want more.
Thankfully, she was stronger than that. ‘So we’ve danced,’ she declared as if her body wasn’t shouting hallelujah, while her sensible mind begged her to leave. ‘It’s time for me to go to bed.’
‘No,’ he argued flatly. ‘You can’t leave now. It would be rude to the musician. He might think we don’t like his music.’
She glanced at the guitarist, who was absorbed in his own world. ‘Do you think he’d notice?’
Luc’s lips pressed down as he followed her gaze. ‘I’m sure he would. Do you want to risk it?’
‘No,’ Stacey admitted. The man had played non-stop during the banquet. Who could deny him his downtime?
‘Good,’ Lucas murmured, bringing her close.
He’d turned her insides to molten honey with nothing more than an intimate tone in his voice, and the lightest touch of his hands. The sultry Spanish music clawed at her soul, forcing her to relax, and, as so often happened when she relaxed, she thought about the mother she’d lost before even knowing her, and those long, lonely nights of uncertainty when she was a child, asking herself what her mother would have advised Stacey to do to please everyone the following day. She’d failed so miserably on that front, and had begun to wonder if she would ever get it right.
‘You’re crying.’ Drawing his head back, Lucas stared at her with surprise. ‘Have I upset you?’
‘No. Of course you haven’t.’ Blinking hard, she shook her head and pasted on a smile.
He captured a tear from her cheek and stared at it as if he’d never seen one before. ‘Perhaps you hate dancing with me,’ he suggested in what was an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.
‘I don’t hate it at all,’ she said quickly, wishing her mouth would stop trembling. This wasn’t like her. She always had her deepest feelings well under control.
‘Then what is the matter, Stacey?’
When Lucas talked to her with compassion in his tone he made things worse. She badly wanted to sob out loud now, give vent to all those tears she’d held back as a child. ‘I really need to go to bed,’ she said, sounding tetchy, which was infinitely better than sounding pathetic. ‘I’m tired.’
‘You really need to dance,’ Lucas argued, tightening his grip around her waist. ‘You know what they say about all work and no play?’
‘Success?’ she suggested with bite.
He refused to be drawn into an argument and huffed a laugh. ‘Even I take time out from work, and so should you.’
Perhaps he was right, she conceded. Being in his arms was so different from what she’d expected that the urge to make the moment last was stronger than ever. She’d been waiting for this all her adult life, and even if the guitarist was doing his best to make her cry, perhaps she needed that too. But not tonight. Tonight was a time for celebration, not tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just that this tune makes me sad.’
‘It’s good to let your feelings out,’ Lucas observed, ‘and I’m glad you feel you can do that with me.’
‘I do,’ she murmured.
He must have given the guitarist a subtle directive, as the mood of the music had changed from unbearably affecting to a passionate, earthy rhythm. They fell into step and began to dance in a way that was far more intimate than before, and as the music climbed to a crescendo it seemed only one outcome was possible. Enjoying Lucas was dangerous because it was addictive. It made her want him in a way that was wholly inappropriate for someone hoping to make an impression on a client.
‘I should go.’ She pulled away while she still had the strength to do so.
‘You should stay,’ Lucas argued, and as the guitarist continued to weave his spell, Lucas brought her close enough for their two bodies to become one. She nestled her face against his chest as if she belonged there, as if there had never been any conflict between them, no gulf at all, as if this was how it should be, as if it was right and good.
Dancing with Stacey was harder than he’d thought. Not because she couldn’t dance, but because she could; because she was intuitive and could second-guess his every move. Stacey was no longer a vulnerable tomboy on the brink of entering an adult world, but a woman who knew her own mind. She’d looked exhausted when she’d finished work, but there was no sign of tiredness now. If anything, she seemed energised as she moved to the music like a gypsy queen. Though she’d looked close to tears when the music had affected her, determination had since returned to her eyes. And fire. She wanted him, and she wasn’t afraid to let him know it.
The ache in his groin was unsustainable. He was seeing her as she was, not as she had been. The urge to feel her naked body under his, to drown in her wildflower scent, and to fist her thick, silky hair as he buried his face in her neck, her breasts—
‘Why don’t you do it?’ she challenged softly.
‘Why don’t I do what?’
‘Kiss me?’ she stated bluntly.
