you want to know?’
‘Not entirely. But you might as well complete my humiliation.’
‘Collectibles. Decorative Objects.’
Emily groaned. It went from bad to worse. How long could she stay there with her head buried in her hands? For ever? At some point she’d have to look up. Denial, that was the thing. Generally she wasn’t a fan of denial, but this was an exceptional circumstance.
Fixing a neutral expression on her face, Emily lifted her head and shot him a curious glance. ‘Why did you bid?’
Luke went still and his gaze dropped to his papers. Then he shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure.’
A flicker of something that Emily couldn’t identify passed over his face. Whatever his motives had been, like her, he wasn’t sharing. ‘A rash impulse?’ she suggested helpfully, when no further answer seemed forthcoming.
Luke sat back and looked at her, that faint smile still playing around his mouth and doing all sorts of strange, fluttery things to her stomach.
‘Maybe it appealed to my adventurous side.’
Emily considered this. Adventurous? For a man who must regularly fly by private jet? She shook her head. ‘Nope, sorry, I’m sticking with the rash impulse.’
‘Maybe I was intrigued by the idea of being a knight in shining armour.’
Right. Sure. She didn’t believe that for a second either. ‘With a plane instead of a horse?’
‘A suit instead of the armour.’
‘Same thing sometimes,’ she batted back.
He tilted his head and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Very true,’ he said finally.
‘With a laptop instead of a lance,’ she added, tapping a finger against her mouth. ‘Of course, no real knight would be anything without a castle.’
Luke rubbed his jaw. ‘A castle?’
‘At the very least. A palace would be ideal.’
‘Would a penthouse in Mayfair do instead?’
She pretended to give it some consideration. ‘Lots of chrome and steel and glass and thoroughly pointless gadgets?’
Luke nodded. ‘Goes without saying.’
‘In that case, congratulations. You’re really rather well-qualified for the role of knight.’
‘Thank you. How well-suited are you to being a damsel in distress?’
‘Not well at all, I’m afraid,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘No flowing locks and no ivory tower.’
‘No evil father and wicked stepmother either, I hope.’ Amusement glinted in his eyes.
‘No parents at all,’ she said evenly.
The amusement faded. ‘I’m sorry.’
Emily shrugged. ‘Don’t be. They died a long time ago.’ The lightness of her tone belied the clench of her heart. She knew it did. She’d spent years perfecting it. Swallowing down the lump that had lodged in her throat, she gave him a bright smile. ‘So, knights in shining armour aside, do you often look for women on the internet?’
From the scowl that appeared on his face, Emily deduced that he didn’t appreciate what she was implying. ‘Sorry,’ she said, flushing slightly. ‘That didn’t come out quite the way I expected.’
Luke picked up his pen and uncapped it. ‘It’s an inevitable assumption. But, no, I don’t trawl the internet looking for women.’
Of course he didn’t, she mused. He probably had women tripping over themselves to appear on his arm. He clearly hadn’t entered into the bidding war because he’d been over-whelmed by her curves.
‘A friend of mine e-mailed me the link. I was going to Nice anyway. I was curious.’
Bizarre. It was bizarre enough to be true. She hardly knew him. It might be exactly the sort of thing he would do. How did she know?
‘Just out of interest, how much did I fetch?’
He smiled suddenly at her, and her breath caught. ‘Do you want it in dollars, euros or pounds? It’s a global market out there, you know.’
She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘An estimate will do.’
‘Around six figures.’
Emily nearly knocked over her glass.
‘Are you mad?’
His jaw tightened. ‘Very possibly.’
A tiny trickle of ice shivered down her spine at his tone. He wasn’t joking. Emily stared at him as he raked a hand through his hair and yanked open the top button of his shirt. On a plane with a madman, however gorgeous, was not top of her list of ideal scenarios and if he’d said ‘yes’ instead of ‘possibly’ she’d be reaching for the nearest parachute. ‘At least it’s tax deductible.’
‘There is that,’ he agreed.
‘Why are you going to Nice?’
‘Meetings in Monte Carlo.’
She tilted her head. ‘Convenient.’
‘You don’t believe me.’
Emily shot him an assessing glance. ‘I’m not sure.’
He clutched his chest as if in pain. ‘I’m wounded.’
‘I’m devastated that you’re wounded.’
‘You should be. Your sister accepted my reasons without question.’
Did she? Emily’s eyes narrowed. ‘My sister’s brain has been pulverised by motherhood,’ she said darkly.
‘You’re more wary?’
‘Maybe,’ she murmured, wrenching her eyes from his and looking down at where her fingers were playing with the ends of the scarf tied round her head.
That particular avenue of conversation was not one she wanted to pursue. Weaving the strands between her fingers, she found herself wondering whether it was true. She’d spent hours analysing her relationship with Tom and what had gone wrong, but she hadn’t looked at the effects it had left behind.
She probably had become more wary since breaking up with him, she acknowledged, her brow creasing. Five years with the same man was a long time, even if the last year had been pretty rocky, and her dating skills were rusty. Plus, she thought she’d known her ex-fiancé inside out, and it turned out she hadn’t known him at all.
Perhaps Anna was right. Perhaps she did need closure. It wasn’t normal for a girl of twenty-eight to hang up her dating shoes. She did need
