have when he was holding her like this? I haven’t danced with a man in a long time, she realised—and the irony was that she’d never actually danced with Luc before. He’d never taken her to a party and held her in his arms like this because their affair had been conducted beneath the radar. And suddenly she could understand why. The hard thrust of his pelvis was achingly evocative as it brushed against her. Dancing was dangerous, she thought. It allowed their bodies to be indecently close in a public place and she guessed that Conall’s tight security was the only reason Luc was okay with that. Anywhere else and people would have been fishing out their cell phones to capture the moment on camera.
Yet somehow, despite her misgivings, she couldn’t help but enjoy the dance—at least up to the point where her throat suddenly constricted and her breathing began to grow shallow and unsteady. Had he pulled her closer? Was that why the tips of her breasts were suddenly pushing so insistently against his chest? And if she could feel her nipples hardening, maybe so could he.
‘You seem tense,’ he observed.
She moved her shoulders awkwardly. ‘Are you surprised?’
‘You don’t like dancing? Or is being this close to me again unsettling you?’
Lisa drew her head back to meet the indefinable expression in his eyes. ‘A little,’ she admitted.
‘Me, too.’
She pursed her lips together, wishing she could control the thundering of her heart. ‘But you must get to dance with hundreds of women.’
‘Not at all. I’m not known for my love of dancing.’ His finger stroked distractingly at her waist. ‘And no woman I’ve ever danced with makes me feel the way you do.’
‘That’s a good line, Luc.’ She laughed. ‘Smooth, yet convincing—and with just the right note of disbelief. I bet you hit the jackpot with it every time.’
‘It’s not a line.’ His brow furrowed. ‘And why so cynical?’
‘I’d prefer to describe it as having taken a healthy dose of realism and I’ve always been that way. You never used to object before.’
Reflectively, his finger stroked her bare arm. ‘Maybe I was too busy taking off your clothes.’
‘Luc—’
‘I’m only stating the truth. And please don’t give me that breathless little gasp and look at me like that, unless you want me to drag you off to the nearest dark corner.’
‘Carry on in that vein and I’ll walk off all by myself.’
‘Okay.’ He sucked in a deep breath before moving his hands to her waist—the slender indentation of her flesh through the delicate silk feeling almost as intimate as if he were touching her bare skin itself. ‘Let’s keep things formal. Tell me what’s been happening in your life.’
‘You mean the shop?’
A faint frown arrowed his dark eyebrows together, as if he hadn’t meant the shop at all. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Tell me about the shop.’
Lisa fixed her gaze on the tiny buttons of his dress shirt. Did she tell him about how empty she’d felt when they’d split, which had made her throw herself headlong into her work—not realising that her ambition was outpacing her and that by aiming so high, she’d made the potential crash back to earth all the harder? ‘People kept telling me I ought to expand and so I found myself a backer,’ she said. ‘Someone who believed in me and was willing to finance a move to a more prestigious part of the city.’
‘Who?’
His voice had suddenly roughened and she looked up into his face. ‘Is that really relevant?’
‘That depends.’ There was a pause before he spoke again. ‘Is he your lover?’
She screwed up her nose. ‘You’re implying that I started a relationship with my new backer?’
‘Or maybe it was the other way round? Your change in fortune seems a little...dramatic,’ he observed. ‘It would make sense.’
Her feet slowed on the polished floor and Lisa felt a powerful spear of indignation. Was Luc really coming over as jealous—when he’d told her from the get-go that there was never going to be any future in their relationship? Was that what powerful princes did—played at being dog in the manger, not wanting you themselves, but then getting all jealous if they imagined someone else did? But she wasn’t going to invent a closeness with her backer which did not extend outside the boardroom door. She and Martin were business buddies and nothing more.
She gave a laugh. ‘Everyone knows you should never mix business and pleasure, and I’m afraid there hasn’t been time for much in the way of recreation.’
‘Why not?’
Again, she moved her shoulders restlessly. ‘The stakes are much higher now that I’ve got the shop and then there’s Brittany...’
Her words trailed off but he picked up on her hesitation.
‘Your sister?’
Amazed he’d remembered the little sister he’d never even met, Lisa nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She had a baby.’
He frowned. ‘But she’s very young herself, right?’
‘Yes, she is and...’ Her voice faded because Luc wouldn’t be interested in hearing about Brittany’s choice of partner. And even though part of her despised Jason and the way he lived, wasn’t there still some kind of stubborn loyalty towards him because he was Tamsin’s father? ‘I’ve been pretty tied up with that,’ she finished.
‘So you’re an aunt now?’ he questioned.
She looked up at him and Luc watched her face dissolve with soppy affection—her green-gold eyes softening and her mouth curving into a wistful smile. He felt a beat of something unfamiliar because he’d never seen her look that way before and a whisper of something he didn’t understand crept over his skin.
‘Yes, I’m an aunt. I have a little niece called Tamsin and she’s beautiful. Just beautiful. So that’s my news.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What about you?’
Luc’s throat thickened with frustration, because ironically he felt so at ease in her company that Lisa would be the perfect person to confide in. To reveal that soon he would be marrying another woman—the Princess from a neighbouring island who had been earmarked as his bride since birth. A long-anticipated union between two wealthy islands, which he couldn’t continue to delay.
And Lisa was a realist, wasn’t she? She’d told him that herself. She might even agree that arranged marriages were far more sensible than those founded on the rocky ground of romance, with their notoriously high failure rate. If he hadn’t wanted her quite so much he might have confided in her, but the truth was that he did want her. He wanted her so badly that he could barely move without being acutely aware of his aching groin, and he was glad she was standing in front of him, concealing his erection from any prying eyes.
But something stopped him from starting the inevitable seduction process—something which felt uncomfortably like the fierce stab of his conscience. For a moment he fought
