A Stormy Spring (4 page)

His breath got tight.

Her wide mouth twitched as if trying to smile. Those big eyes widened as he stepped into her.

She was about five foot nine inches tall, maybe one hundred and ten pounds.

The dress she wore told him the girl just wanted to have fun. Silk, red and expensive, it screamed designer. The sensuous fabric skimmed a wand slim figure and the gown was cut low at the back, held on her shoulders with fragile straps. No tits and he didn’t give a damn. With narrow shoulders, seriously toned arms, all lean and long bones, she reminded him of a colt.

‘Are you real?’ he said.

But then she smiled - a flash of dimple - and that was it. He was toast.

Then followed a long silence. That only got longer. And even longer still.

‘I’m Becca,’ she said in a voice that reminded him of great big treacle spoonfuls of soul and stopped his heart. And did it hold the musical lilt, just a hint, of France? It ignited his libido.

She is mine. The thought made no sense. But the belief was so strong, Lucas couldn’t deny it.

Those big eyes went dark and liquid and as sexy as hell.

‘Lucas. Dance?’ And how slick was that? Apparently he’d lost the ability to string a coherent sentence together. Pitiful.

Then she was in his arms and she moved like a dream and she fitted against him quite perfectly.

Closer. He drew her closer until his hands held her narrow waist, pressing her against him. She was so soft.

Lucas Del Garda was a man of resolution and determination, usually. But when her hands slid up his shoulders and around his neck, his swollen erection shot to attention.

She shuddered against him and still those big eyes never left his face.

‘Kiss me, Lucas,’ she said in that incredible voice so low and so husky.

There. Right there was the capricious law of attraction. This evening another woman had whispered exactly the same words in his ear and he’d been totally unmoved. But Becca’s words didn’t just have him quivering at the thought of kissing her, he was panting.

Reaching out he cupped the side of her face. Her bottom lip, full and pouting, trembled as her lips parted.

He took a breath as if he was taking a dive off a cliff into the deep blue sea.

As their lips fused he forced himself to be gentle and careful with her since his libido, plainly - had all the patience of a starved wolf. Her mouth was warm and moist. And God she tasted fabulous, sweet and so soft... in a way that made him want to slip his tongue into not just her mouth but every single part of her. He wanted to take his time touching, stroking and kissing every single inch of her flesh.

She pressed the full length of her body against him.

His hips were grinding against her now, all finesse blown apart by a raging heat, a need that only she could satisfy.

Her nails bit into his shoulders then her hands slid down to his waist, lower.

He snapped a hold of her wrists.

‘We need to stop. Now.’

She went pale and drew back. ‘Sorry.’

Bugger.

‘No. I mean ... We need to get out of here. I want you. Tonight. Now.’

Their eyes stayed locked. A smile, the tiny dimple appeared in her cheek.

‘What are you waiting for?’ she whispered.

At that moment as far as Lucas was concerned she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world.

A shudder of lethal arousal blinked Lucas back to his office in New York and the present.

What the
hell
was this?

He didn’t believe in love at first sight, did he?

It shamed him now to remember how he’d scoffed when his close friend and confirmed bachelor Nico Ferranti had found Bronte and married her within weeks. Eighteen months later, the couple were still madly in love and Nico was embracing fatherhood in sheer delight.

But Becca haunted Lucas’s dreams. Particularly the way she’d stared at him as if he was the Devil’s seed when he’d lashed out and hurt her. Time apart from her had given him the luxury of analysing his behaviour. He’d read contempt in those big eyes when he’d thought she was married and was still prepared to have her in his life. Then he had sunk to new depths by deliberately being cruel. He’d never verbally slapped a woman like that. The look on her face would haunt him until the day he died. He’d hurt her, made so many missteps with her, he couldn’t believe it.

No one who knew him well would believe it either he realised with a frown. He’d been brought up to respect woman.

At thirty-four, Lucas was the eldest son of Don Norberto Juan Ortiz Conde Del Garda.

His family owned the Ortiz Hotel Group, one of the biggest luxury brands in the world. Instead of going into the family business, Lucas dropped out of Harvard and set up a fledging PR company with his best friend, Tobin. His father had been singularly unimpressed with his desire to represent rock stars and to deal with their public relations. But Don Norberto had given him his head in the belief that if he let his son go Lucas would return and take his place at his side. But Lucas hadn’t returned. He’d thrived in the cut and thrust of the buzz of twenty-four hour news and communication.

Now the Ortiz group was run by Lucas’s brother, Jacob, while Lucas was the CEO of Del Garda Enterprises, one of the largest Public Relation companies in the world. He represented only the best. Actors from film, TV and theatre along with big name rock stars, celebrities, authors and business moguls.

The downside to his success, since he was famously single and wealthy, was that the tabloids kept a rabid eye on his love life. What they didn’t know they were happy to fabricate. He knew the score. And the simple truth of the cliché that there was no such thing as bad publicity in his business held lucratively true.

And he was used to travelling. Living in his serviced penthouse in New York where anything he needed was right there at the touch of a button. His house in London was the nearest thing he had to a home. But that was due as much to the people in it – John and Moira, the husband and wife team of driver and housekeeper, who’d looked after him since he’d been a boy – as the bricks and mortar.

Now he felt a vague dissatisfaction with his life. Now he wanted to breathe clean country air, grass and trees, with perhaps an ocean nearby. And in the middle of it all, Becca.

Why the hell hadn’t she called?

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his bespoke suit trousers, quite ruining the exquisite cut.

His body ached for a woman. One woman.

He needed some contact with her, her voice, even a fucking text might help.

And he was ashamed to admit now that he’d taken out his frustration on his devoted staff which was totally unforgivable.

Lucas turned at the sharp rap on his door.

His Vice President, Tobin Gillespie, entered.

He gave Lucas a hard stare.

‘Whatever has crawled up your ass you’d better lose it fast, pal. I found Elise sobbing in the break-out room.’

She was a recent addition to his admin staff, very bright, very young and a little too sensitive for her own good. His conscience dug Lucas in the ribs. He might have been a little harsh when she’d spilled his coffee over a report. After all he’d been the one who’d caused it by barking at her.

‘I will speak to her.’

Dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit by Armani, Tobin Gillespie didn’t look like a financial mover and shaker; with his sun kissed hair and movie star good looks he looked as if he’d be more at home hitting the surf in California.

Now he folded his rangy body in a plump leather chair the colour of ripe cherries and stretched out long legs making himself right at home.

Sharp blue eyes stared at Lucas. ‘Nope, you’ll leave her alone. I’ve given her the rest of the afternoon off and told her she’s doing a great job – which she is by the way – I said you’ve got a lot on your mind. So spill.’

Lucas opened his mouth, caught Tobin’s eye and closed it.

Tobin was as close to him as his brother. He understood women.

With Becca, Lucas realised now, he’d need all the help he could get.

‘I have a small problem.’

‘Define small.’

‘There is, ah, this woman.’

Silence.

‘Is she pregnant?’

‘Do not be stupid,’ came the growled response.

‘Is she married?’

Lucas ignored the burn of guilt in his gut. ‘Becca is not like that.’

‘Becca, eh? So what’s the problem?’

‘She has not called me.’

‘I knew it!’ Tobin drummed the flat of his hands on Lucas’s desk then sat back with a big grin. Blue eyes twinkled into his. ‘The biter has at last been bitten. Who is she? I wanna meet her and give her a big kiss on the mouth. I might even give her tongue.’

The thought of his best friend kissing Becca on her fabulous mouth had Lucas send him the death stare. ‘Touch her and die.’

Tobin’s good looking face brightened considerably as he leaned forward.

‘Oh ho! The man’s got it bad!’ he crowed. ‘Is she gorgeous? Is she stacked? Is she the one who scratched that pretty face?’

For some reason discussing Becca’s breasts and her other attributes made Lucas feel uncomfortable as well as terribly protective of her.

‘None of your damn business,’ he growled again, this time in warning.

Tobin blinked. ‘Is it serious?’

Lucas ran a frustrated hand through his hair. How the hell did he know?

She hadn’t called him had she?

‘I do not know. She needs her space.’

Bewildered, his friend stared. ‘Her space?’

‘She does not want a relationship.’

‘Ahh,’ Tobin said with a knowing smile. ‘She wants you for your body. Lucky bastard.’

‘No. Yes...shit. Her career comes first, apparently.’

‘Jeez, are you sure she’s not a guy?’

The thought had occurred to Lucas that Becca did indeed think like a man in that respect.

‘She is all woman, trust me.’

‘What’s her name? What does she do?’

‘Becca Wainwright. And I have no idea.’

‘You don’t know what she does?’

All of a sudden Lucas’s collar felt too tight. He sent Tobin a dark look as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

‘No, I do not know what she does. We were busy at the time and the subject did not come up.’

‘So you know absolutely nothing about her?’

Heat burned his cheeks. Why the hell had he mentioned Becca to Tobin, Lucas wondered now? Why did he not keep his big mouth shut?

‘I know plenty. She recently lost her husband. I am the first man she has been with since...’

Tobin’s eyes widened now and went serious as he sat back in the chair.

‘That’s a tough deal. And if anyone knows how that feels it’s you.’

‘It was a long time ago. We were too young.’

He didn’t want to think about the darkest time of his life over ten years ago. When he remembered Irina these days it was with a deep affection. She’d been his whole world for such a short time but she’d taught him much about love, about giving yourself unconditionally to another person and expecting nothing in return.

These feelings he had for Becca were in a completely different league. They were the feelings of a man for a woman not a boy for a girl. The thought now occurred to him that perhaps that was why he felt such a deep connection to Becca? He understood her pain and the guilt that went along with it when a person moved on after grief.

Tobin interrupted his thoughts. ‘Yeah, but I remember how wrecked you were, pal. I hope you know what you’re doing.’

Lucas checked his cell.

He frowned at the device. ‘At the moment I am doing nothing.’

‘This Becca’s been pretty clear about what she wants. Have you considered that she might not be ready for a relationship?’

He had indeed. ‘
Si
.’

‘So, maybe you need to back off, give her space?’

Lucas slowly shook his head. ‘She is mine.’

Tobin’s brows winged into his hairline.

‘Good luck with that. I think you’re going to need it.’

Lucas heaved a heartfelt sigh. ‘So do I.’

‘By the way, the British tabloids are saying you’re about to announce your engagement to Willow Bailey.’

At Lucas’s soft expletive, Tobin nodded. ‘Yeah, the woman is most definitely scorned.’

‘She is nothing but trouble. I should have listened to you,’ Lucas admitted.

Tobin gave him a big grin. ‘She’s as nutty as a fruit cake. The piece says she wants to have your babies.’

Shaking his head in disbelief, Lucas ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

‘We need to file her in the crackpot corner. She is nothing but a damned nuisance.’

Lucas knew he’d need to be careful how he handled the new West End star and media darling, Willow Bailey. The whole thing had the potential to turn into a media firestorm. Willow’s agent had already phoned trying to get him to change his mind about not handling her and Lucas had told him in words of one syllable that Willow Bailey was a menace and if she didn’t get her shit together she’d end up blacklisted. The man had hung up on him and he suspected Willow and her agent had cooked up the story to help her save face when the news broke that Del Garda Enterprises had dumped her as a client.

He should have seen it coming. And if his mind had been on work rather than on the beautiful but elusive Becca he
would
have seen it coming.

He was flying back to London today and he’d deal then with Ms Bailey and her agent.

And he’d deal with Becca Wainwright too.

‘Three, four, five, six!’

Thirty-two feet pounded on the battle scarred sprung floor. Their timing was almost spot-on to the fast and furious music thumping from the speakers. They’d worked hard today and a couple of the younger less experienced dancers were flagging. Well, they’d better get used to it Becca mused. If they wanted to get to the top in this game there was no room for weakness.

The cavernous space reeked of hot sweaty bodies, spoiled coffee and citrusy cologne that dancers used to disguise body odour.

Eyeing one of the girls in the wall of mirrors, Becca yelled, ‘Hands!’ Her voice booming through the speakers via the microphone attached to her ear. ‘Sharp elbows, pause coming up! Five, six, seven, eight!