suit. She stiffened as a pair of very large feet halted within inches of her nose.
Important patron? Van had got that right. Conscious that her XXL silver-clad backside was poking up in the air, she quickly drew it down and remained quite still, as if she might somehow become invisible again.
But sadly no.
‘Lucia?’
How could her life get any worse?
Luke Forster, Lucia’s childhood crush, and more recently her erotic dream buddy, was back.
CHAPTER THREE
Where in my list does it say that one of the bad boys of polo can crack his whip over my head while I’m on my hands and knees in front of him?
Blech! That does not sound good.
Did that possibility even cross my mind when I was a fourteen-year-old dreamer with only gallant knights in shining armour ahead of me?
No. It did not.
‘Up.’
People turned to stare. Luke’s voice sounded like a pistol crack, blotting out the music as well as the overheated chatter in the club.
‘Hello, Luke,’ Lucia said mildly, determined there wouldn’t be a scene. Van would sack her on the spot. And wouldn’t Luke relish ammunition like that when he made his report to her brothers? ‘How nice to see you again.’ With clothes on, she amended silently, trying hard not to blink.
‘Imagine my surprise to see you here working,’ Luke countered with bite. He returned her upturned gaze with an expressionless stare.
Attack was the only form of defence in this situation. Why was she still down on her knees? Standing, she said coolly, ‘You didn’t think to say goodbye last time you were in the club. Oh, no—I forgot,’ she added. ‘You had better things to do.’ A spear of inconvenient jealousy hit her as she looked in vain for the blonde.
‘She’s not here,’ Luke said, reading her with ease. ‘And you’re leaving.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Now she was upset. One of the upsides of seeing Luke again was that it had restored some of her old fire. She hadn’t broken free of her brothers only to be ordered about by Luke!
‘You heard me,’ Luke said stonily.
Breaking eye contact, she reached for her bucket.
‘You’re leaving that where it is,’ he rapped.
‘No!’ Luke’s big tanned hand seized hold of her arm, and it was bad enough seeing those sensitive fingers sinking into pale, plump flesh without remembering the magic those hands had wrought in her dream …
This was reality, Lucia reminded herself sharply.
But wasn’t this what she had waited for all her life? Luke riding to her rescue. Luke holding her. Luke …
‘Get off me,’ she fired out furiously, shaking herself free. ‘I’m not a horse you can grab hold of and lead where you like. I make my own plans, Luke. And I’m working. Do you want me to lose my job?’
Luke’s arrogant head dipped so he could glare straight into her eyes. ‘I would love you to lose your job,’ he assured her grimly.
‘I come off shift at three a.m. I can talk to you then, but not before,’ she said, aware that Van the Terrible was lurking in the shadows, watching them.
Picking up her mop and bucket, she stalked off the dance floor before Luke had the chance to say a word.
There was only one small consolation in all of this. Her body might be trembling like a leaf, but she was earning a living, and however small that living might be when compared to Luke’s vast income she was living independently. Two small consolations, Lucia conceded with surprise. Confronting Luke hadn’t frightened her. She hadn’t backed down and slithered away to do his bidding. She had felt as if she’d been in a perpetual state of fear since London—finally she was beginning to feel alive again.
So she didn’t need him. Good. He shouldn’t get involved. He would call Nacho—let him take over. Lucia was wild and had set herself on a very different path from him. He was all about polo and business, and had no intention of being distracted or pulled down by anyone. Lucia was clearly on a downward trajectory. With every advantage in the world, she had chosen to work in a club.
Really? Did he believe that?
All he knew for certain at this point was that in his family no one went against expectation, and feelings were curbed as stringently as any horse in a dressage arena. Lucia was composed entirely of emotion. She was an untameable Acosta. He should put her out of his mind for good
Which was easier said than done. He was becoming increasingly worried about her, and in spite of the cold facts he owed Nacho.
Was that all?
So she was attractive. He would soon tire of all the drama.
Wasn’t it entertaining to be around someone with so much character for a change?
Didn’t he love to hunt?
He liked the chase best of all.
What the hell was he thinking?
Lucia was the kid sister of his closest friend. She was out of bounds. And, in the unlikely event that he found himself in the mood for a walk on the wild side, he’d choose someone as worldly as he was—not some pampered Argentinian princess.
Who wasn’t too proud to get down on her hands and knees and scrub a filthy club if that was what it took.
And who was one hell of a good-looking woman, Luke conceded, even in the extraordinary outfit Lucia was forced to wear at work.
All the more reason for him to keep his distance. With his blood boiling in his veins she was safer away from him.
Three o’clock in the morning came and went. The last patron had left the club. They had swept up and tidied and Luke had gone. She’d been too busy to notice when he left. He had left with the blonde, she presumed, feeling sick inside. He definitely hadn’t remembered what day it was today.
So what? Why should she care if Luke had forgotten it was her birthday? She didn’t need him. Luke Forster could go to hell in a bucket for all she cared.
‘Didn’t your birthday start at midnight?’ Grace asked, giving Lucia’s arm a squeeze as they left the club together.
‘How did you know?’ Lucia asked as they took shelter for a moment before braving the rain.
‘I know everything about you,’ Grace teased fondly.
Including Lucia’s real name. Grace was too good a friend for Lucia to want to deceive her. ‘So you’ve heard the party-girl rumours too?’
Grace
