He cut her off in the ballroom, where, typically, she was rushing about.
‘I’m sorry, Lucas, but I can’t stop to talk now—’
‘I beg your pardon?’ He jerked his head back with surprise. ‘Is that all I get?’
She stood poised for flight. ‘After five long years?’ she suggested, her eyes searching his. Professional or not, she’d always been a participant, never afraid to take on a challenge, rather than a person content to laze on the benches. He took some consolation from the fact that those beautiful green eyes had darkened, and her breath was both audible and fast. ‘Are you run off your feet?’ he suggested dryly as she snatched a breath.
She was smart and knew at once what he meant. ‘I’m quite calm,’ she assured him with the lift of one elegant brow, as if to say, You don’t faze me, and swiftly following on with, Not everyone falls at your feet. Then professionalism kicked in. Fully aware that she was speaking to a client, she hit him with an old memory. ‘You don’t need to worry about drinks going flying tonight.’
‘Do I need to worry about anything else?’ he queried, staring down into her crystal-clear gaze.
She held her breath and then released it. ‘No,’ she said with confidence. ‘Good to see you, Lucas,’ she added as a prelude to dashing off. ‘You look well.’
‘You look flushed.’
‘The heat in here—’
He pinned a frown to his face. ‘If the air con isn’t up to the job—’
‘It is,’ she flashed.
‘Then…?’
‘Then, I have to get on.’
He smiled faintly. ‘Don’t let me stop you…’
‘You won’t,’ she assured him, and was he imagining it, or were her shoulders tense with awareness as she hurried away?
A member of staff attracted her attention and Stacey moved on to sort out another problem, leaving him in the unusual position of standing watching the action, rather than directing it. And he wanted more. A lot more. Those scant few minutes hadn’t been enough. Had they been enough for Stacey? Her eyes suggested not, but dedication to her job clearly overruled her personal feelings, leaving him more frustrated than he could remember. Did she feel the same? She didn’t glance back once.
She couldn’t just walk away.
But she had.
The last time he’d looked in the mirror Lucas Da Silva had stared back. He was supposed to give the rain check, not Stacey. He huffed with grim amusement. She clearly hadn’t read the rulebook. That must have gone out of the window when she left the farm—not that she’d been easy then. Stacey Winner had always been a piece of work. And looked amazing, he conceded as he followed her progress around the ballroom, trying not to think of her moaning in his arms and begging for more. Her carefully arranged hair was still damp from the shower and her make-up was simple, but she’d undergone a complete transformation from casual tee shirt and jeans into an elegant, ankle-length gown of cream silk that moulded her lush form with loving attention to detail. He watched as she stopped to reassure a member of staff with her arm around the woman’s shoulders. As soon as the team member returned to her duties he made his move. There was no reason why Stacey couldn’t speak to him now.
She had survived the first encounter with Lucas. Doing a little happy dance inside, she was a little breathless and a lot shaken up, but…I survived! And felt a little proud at the thought that she had managed to revive the old banter they used to share on the farm, yet had maintained a reasonable balance between her personal and her professional persona. At least, she hoped she had, Stacey reflected as she glanced across at Lucas, who was speaking to members of the band. Seeing him from a distance like this was bad enough, she mused, moving on. Standing close enough to touch him was a torment with no parole. He was like a force field, threatening to suck her in and turn her brain to jelly and she couldn’t afford to have that happen tonight.
‘Stacey.’
‘Lucas!’
He was right behind her. And it happened again. Her brain turned to mush, while her feet appeared to be welded to the spot. Forcing herself into a professional frame of mind, she focused on the job in hand. ‘The doors will open in a few minutes,’ she exclaimed brightly as he opened his mouth to say something, and then she slipped away.
Cursing beneath his breath, he determined they would spend time together. Admittedly that was difficult for her now, but it wouldn’t always be so.
He was too used to everything being easy, he supposed, to women staring at him with lust in their eyes and dollar signs. Stacey was different. She was a novelty. Novelty was the most valuable possession a wealthy man could have.
Hard luck, he reflected with grim amusement. As far as he could tell, there was nothing in Stacey’s expression but passion for her work, and determination to make tonight a success.
Left to stand and stare as she moved around the glittering ballroom like a rather glamorous automaton on wheels, he ground his jaw and, with an exclamation born of pure frustration, he left to take up his role as host. Seeing Stacey again had roused feelings inside him he wouldn’t have believed himself capable of, and there was only one thing to cure that. And then she turned to stare at him, still with no hint of lust or dollar signs in her eyes, but instead they seemed to say, ‘What do you think of this fabulous setting? Hasn’t the team worked hard?’
Infuriating woman. This wasn’t the farm, and she was no longer the teenager playing tricks on her brother’s friend. Had she forgotten that he was the client, and it was he who was paying the bill? Then, right out of the blue, there it was, the flash of mischief in her eyes, the demon glint he remembered. Shaking his head, he returned that look with a dark, warning glance, but his irritation had melted away.
She rewarded him with a smile so engaging he wanted to have her on the spot. His timing was definitely out. The grand double doors had just opened and his guests were pouring in. Forced to banish his physical reaction to Stacey by sheer force of will, he gave himself a sharp reminder that she had never been in awe of him. He could stand on his dignity as much as he liked and all she would do was smile back.
From the first time Niahl had brought him home to trial the ponies on the farm, Stacey had tested him. Daring him to ride their wildest horse, she would jump down from the fence where she was perched, seemingly uninterested, and walk away when the animal responded to his firm, yet sympathetic hand. She was fearless on horseback, and had often attempted to outride him. ‘Anything’s possible,’ she’d tell him stubbornly as she trotted into the yard after him. ‘I’ll get you next time.’ She never gave up, and became increasingly ingenious when it came to stopping him buying her favourite ponies. ‘You’ll be far too demanding,’ she’d say, blushing because she knew this was a lie. ‘You’ll break their spirit.’ The ponies in question, according to Stacey, were variously winded or lame, and would almost certainly disappoint him in every way. These supposed facts she would state with her big green eyes wide open, and as soon as she got the chance she’d free the animals from their stable and shoo them into the wild,
