that he was supressing a stab of emotion he did not want to allow admittance. That the spark of animation in her expression which had brightened her eyes, giving her a glow for the first since she’d joined him in the airport lounge, had kicked at something inside him. For a few seconds she had looked as she had that first evening—with her eyes alight, responding to him, desiring him…
He repelled the memory. No point remembering that night, however much it hammered in his brain. It was over. Done. It wasn’t coming back.
She was replying. ‘I have to work to the client’s brief,’ she said tightly. There was no animation in her reply to his crushing rebuff.
Her father, the only client she’d been allowed to have, had been exacting in his briefs, and she had learnt long ago not to challenge him on what he wanted, or even suggest any modifications. Her father had not wanted creative input—he’d wanted docile compliance. She had produced only what he’d wanted, whatever her own opinions.
‘Well, my brief to you is to come up with your own ideas,’ Luke said indifferently.
Talia subsided, focussing once more on her meal. From the far end of the table Luke watched her close down again as she continued eating, and he said nothing more to her. She looked tired, he realised, and he felt the same way himself, jet lag having settled in.
When coffee arrived, Luke addressed her again. ‘We’ll make an early start for the site visit tomorrow morning before the day heats up too much. Wear suitable clothing—shoes for walking, not posing.’ He paused, wanting to make the point clear. ‘Remember you are here to WORK, Talia, if you want to stay on at the villa in Marbella.’
He saw her tense at the sharpness of his reminder, and something more. Had that been fear he’d just seen flash in her eyes? But why should it? He almost asked the question, his expression softening instinctively. Then that blank-eyed look was back in her face, expressing only tiredness.
‘Finish your coffee and go to bed,’ he instructed.
She did not need to be told twice. Draining her cup, she made her escape, heels clicking on the tiled floor. Luke watched her hurry out and that now familiar jab of anger came again.
She couldn’t wait to get away from him, could she?
It wasn’t the first time she hadn’t been able to wait to get away from him, was it?
The memory only reinforced his determination to use her presence in order to become indifferent to her.
But what if it makes you want her more…?
Talia stared around her at the scene of devastation. There were palm trees felled by the hundred-mile-an-hour winds that had uprooted them like matchsticks, and the ground was strewn with branches and vegetation, including seaweed and sand from the beach.
The hotel itself looked as if it had been blasted. Roof tiles lay smashed on the ground, window frames were hanging loose, mosquito screens falling off. She was glad that she was wearing strong rubber-soled shoes and long olive green trousers. There was shattered glass in places, too, and thick palm fronds with sharp edges.
Silently, Luke handed her a hard hat, donning one himself.
‘Take care,’ was all he said to her as he headed indoors.
He’d taken little notice of her on the way here—this time in a high-wheeled four-by-four—just as he had the previous day. It was as if he were blanking her deliberately, and she could do nothing but accept it—and respond in kind. She was grateful, if nothing else, that she was able to mirror his obvious indifference to her. He was treating her as someone he’d hired to do a job of work for him. Nothing personal…nothing intimate.
There was a heaviness inside her that was not just tiredness or jet lag. It had been so stupid of her to have any idiotic hope that Luke might be willing to make a fresh start with her. No, whatever they’d had was over. All that was important now was earning the rent to keep her mother at the villa at Marbella. The doctor’s warning meant she could not risk her mother’s health—she was too fragile, in body and mind. And her dangerously weakened heart—
She sheered her mind away, felt anguish slicing through her with a painful jagged edge.
She had lost all claim to anything personal with Luke. That was all over now—brief as it had been. She’d walked out on him. Now all she was to him was a temporary employee. And that was what she had to remember. She was here to sell her interior design skills in exchange for rent, that was all.
Keep it professional. He doesn’t want anything else than that. He’s made that brutally clear.
As she trailed after him, picking her way through the debris, and then stepped inside the building, she heard herself gasp in shock and dismay at the ravages within. Furniture was overturned, curtains were hanging off their rails, crockery was smashed, and there was a fetid smell of hot, humid, overpowering damp. The place had clearly been drenched, both by the pounding rain and the storm-surge of the sea, and even in the months since the hurricane it had not dried out.
She followed Luke across the huge atrium, her heart sinking at the destruction all around her, stepping carefully through the debris on the floor—bits of furniture, shards of crockery, shreds of curtains, wind-strewn sand—gritty under the soles of her shoes. Dismay filled her. How could anyone think to make something of this place again? Surely the wreckage was complete and it was impossible to restore?
All she wanted to do was get out of there as fast as she could. There was nothing worth saving. The whole place was rotting.
Gingerly, watching every step she took across the littered broken flooring, trying not to inhale the gagging smell of damp and decay, she made her way towards the arching curve of the far side of the atrium where it opened onto the gardens—or what had once been the gardens.
Avoiding a louvered ceiling-height shutter, hanging from its hinges, she stepped out onto the terrace beyond, lifting her eyes and blinking in the bright light after the odoriferous gloom of the interior.
And her breath caught again, her eyes widening in amazement.
The garden might be strewn with palm trees, and vegetation had been hurled across the paths and lawns, but in this lush climate Nature had reclaimed her domain, throwing out vines and foliage to soften the fallen trunks, and vivid blossoms, crimson and white and vermillion pink, to festoon the emerald greenery. And beyond—oh, beyond glistened the brilliance of the azure sea, dazzling in the hot sun. The whole scene was radiant with light and vivid colour.
‘It’s fantastic!’ she breathed in wonder.
She could see in an instant why the hotel had been built here, right at the sea’s edge, fringed with sand so silver she could barely look at it in the bright sunlight. The contrast with the rank, ruined interior could not have been greater. Talia could feel her spirits lift, her face light up with pleasure at the sight.
‘Not bad, is it?’ Luke had stepped up beside her. His voice was dry and he was gazing around.
She turned to him. There had been something in his voice, in its very understatedness, that made her exclaim, ‘I can see why you want it! It’s worth any price!’
His
