that roses and cream bloom young English women were famous for and her mouth was generous and full, suggesting a passionate nature behind the haughty I’m-too-good-for-the-likes-of-you air she affected.
He’d spent most of the evening watching her watching him. It amused him to see her try and disguise her interest. Hiding behind a drink she barely touched or the shoulder of one of her friends. Pretending to be having a good time when clearly the nightclub scene was not her usual stomping ground. For all that she’d dressed for the part in a little black dress and high heels, she looked out of place. She reminded him of Bambi pretending to be Barbarella.
Luiz walked back to his hotel room alone. He’d had plenty of offers he could have taken up but for once he wasn’t in the mood. He was still shaking off the jet lag from when he’d flown in from Argentina, where he’d spent some time with his older brother and his new wife, Teddy. Seeing his brother so happy had triggered a restless feeling he couldn’t block out with endless partying. It used to be just him and Alejandro. They were a team. The playboy Valquez brothers, notorious the world over for having a good time. Women flocked to them wherever they went.
Now Luiz was on his own, wandering around the globe in search of the next victory on the polo field. Trophy after trophy lined the bookshelves at his villa—the villa he only ever visited when the polo schedule allowed. He lived out of an overnight bag; he didn’t stay long enough in one place to warrant a suitcase. He checked in and checked out of hotels like he checked in and out of relationships. One-night stands were his speciality. What was the point of hanging around for someone to do the check out on you? He had seen his mother do that to his father. He had seen his brother suffer the public humiliation of being jilted at the altar ten years ago. Sure, Alejandro was happy now, and Teddy seemed like a top sort of girl, but that sort of commitment wasn’t for him.
No one was ever going to have the power to hurt him. Again.
Luiz was five doors away from his suite when he saw her—the English girl with the cut-glass accent. She was with a man who was leading her by the hand towards a room on the other side further down the corridor. However, something about the little tableau didn’t seem right. The English girl was not steady on her feet and her blue eyes were no longer clear and bright but glazed and disoriented.
‘What are you looking at?’ the man with her snarled at Luiz.
Luiz glanced at the English girl. ‘Are you all right, querida?’
The girl looked at him vacantly, her head lolling to one side. ‘I need to go to bed…’
‘In here, sugar,’ the man said as he shouldered open his door.
Luiz put his arm across the door jamb like a blockade. ‘You want me to call the cops or will you let her go quietly?’
The man breathed alcohol fumes over Luiz’s face. ‘She wants to be with me. She said so earlier.’
Luiz wanted to punch the man’s teeth into the back of his preppy pretty boy head. ‘She’s not capable of saying anything and you damn well know it. Did you do this to her? Give her something in her drink to make her come with you?’
The man gave him a cool it look. ‘Hey, man, what’s your problem? Is she yours or something?’
Luiz felt a sour taste come up in his mouth. Anger came up with it, moving through his body like a bloated tide. What sort of man treated a woman like a toy they could pick up off a shelf? You do, a little voice piped up. He brushed aside the pricking arrow of his conscience and directed his ire where it belonged right now. ‘I’m going to ask you again. Did you do this to her?’
The man’s eyes darted either side of the corridor. ‘Is this a sting or something? Are you undercover?’
Luiz grabbed the man by the throat and pushed him back against the wall so hard all the pictures hanging along the corridor rattled in their frames. ‘I’m going to give you three minutes to check out of this hotel. After that I’m calling the cops. Got it?’
The man swallowed against the heel of Luiz’s hand. ‘I didn’t do it. It was my mate. He said it wouldn’t hurt her. He put a few extra shots of vodka in her drink when she wasn’t looking. I wanted her to loosen up a bit. She was acting all stuck-up. Said she wasn’t interested, but I know she was. They all are in Vegas. That’s why they’re here. To have a good time.’
Luiz bared his teeth like a wolf against a rival. ‘You come anywhere near her again and I’ll make sure you’re sipping your meals through a straw for the rest of your life. Understood?’
The man nodded as he rubbed at his throat, slinking away like a cowed animal until he disappeared into one of the elevators.
Luiz muttered a curse and bent down to where the English girl had slumped to the floor. He touched the side of her creamy cheek with a light fingertip. She was a ghastly shade of white and her skin was clammy but her breathing was normal. ‘Are you staying in house?’ he asked.
She blinked owlishly at him. ‘Have we met before?’
‘Briefly.’
She cocked her head and narrowed her gaze as if trying to place him. ‘You look kind of familiar…’
‘Your room number?’ he prompted.
Her smooth brow wrinkled for a moment as he helped her to her feet. Luiz tried not to notice the way the skin of her hand felt against his, soft as the petals of a magnolia.
‘I think it has a seven in it.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘That’s my lucky number. I once won a day spa package in a raffle we had at school. It was so relaxing I didn’t want to leave. It was the first time I had a Brazilian. Belinda talked me into it. It hurt like hell. Funny thing is I get them all the time now. I guess my pain threshold has risen or something. Normally I’m the biggest coward out. I cry when I take a plaster off. It’s pathetic.’ Her dazzling smile faded a little as she added, ‘I blame it on losing my mother so young. She died in an accident when I was ten…’
‘I’m sorry to hear that—’
‘My father never remarried,’ she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘I thought he would replace her as soon as he could, but no. He never did. Not that he hasn’t had lovers. He’s had lots and lots of them. No one ever likes to think of their parents doing it, do they? It’s gross. My dad is over sixty. I mean, what is he thinking? Isn’t it time to put his tackle away and have a rest?’
‘I guess boys will be boys, no matter what their age.’
She gave him another angled look. ‘Am I keeping you from something? Someone?’
‘No.’
‘No hot date?’
‘Sadly, no.’
She scrunched up her forehead again. ‘Why not?’
‘I asked a girl to dance with me but she turned me down.’
She made a sympathetic sound. ‘Oh, poor you. Were you terribly crushed?’
‘Irreparably.’
She put a hand on his arm, sending a shock of electricity straight to his groin. ‘Never mind. I’m sure you’ll find someone some
