‘Oh, this is beautiful!’ she could not stop herself exclaiming as she gazed around at the lush gardens, with splashes of vivid colour from the tropical flowers all about.
She got no acknowledgement from Luke, who was striding indoors, so she followed him in. She’d wondered if they were heading for a hotel, but this was clearly a private villa. The large atrium-style hall reached up to high rafters, a reception room opened beyond, and there was a mahogany staircase sweeping upstairs. Staff appeared out of nowhere, murmuring in an island lilt, taking their suitcases upstairs, and Talia’s bulky portfolio case and art kit.
She hesitated, not knowing what she should do, and Luke, striding towards a door at the side of the hall, turned his head.
‘We’ll be dining in an hour. Don’t keep me waiting.’
It was all he said before he disappeared into a room in which Talia could glimpse a desk and IT equipment. He shut the door behind him with a decisive click.
With a sigh, Talia followed the luggage upstairs.
Bleakness filled her, and a weariness that came not only from the long flight. It went much deeper than that...
I’ve lost him—lost him for ever... And I must abandon any hope of winning him back.
She had to accept what Luke was making so chillingly clear—he had no interest in her any longer. Not as the woman she’d been at that party. There could be no second chance.
Wearily, she showered and started to get ready. A maid had unpacked for her, and as Talia selected a dress to wear she deliberately chose one her father had approved of. He had always wanted her to wear only fussy, over-styled clothes, and this knee-length dress in a pastel shade of pale blue did not suit her—but it would signal to Luke that she was well aware she was no longer of any personal interest to him. From
now on she must remember that she was here only to work. Nothing more than that.
A tightness clutched around her heart, but there was nothing she could do about it.
He doesn’t want me any more.
That was the truth—bleak, unvarnished—and she had to face it.
* * *
Luke sat at the head of the long table in the villa’s dining room, his gaze focusing down the table to where Talia was sitting, immobile and expressionless. His face tightened. Inside him he felt the emotions he’d become all too familiar with, scything inside him. How could he still find her so beautiful?
Just as she had that day in his office in Lucerne, she looked nothing like the way she had at that party—there was no wanton wildness about her at all, no tightly sheathed body, no exposed shoulders and bare arms, no swaying walk from five-inch heels.
Now, she was dressed for the evening, in a knee-length cocktail dress that was high-necked and long-sleeved—as if, he thought with an illogical spurt of anger, she were deliberately hiding her figure from him. Her hair was caught in the same plain coil at the back of her head that it had been in on the flight, and she had not put on any make-up, let alone jewellery.
A thought flickered in his mind. Maybe there wasn’t any jewellery left for her to wear...
After all, she couldn’t even afford to pay rent on a single one of Gerald Grantham’s many properties. There probably wasn’t much jewellery these days.
She would be feeling the lack of it.
His eyes flickered over her, unconsciously changing her concealing gown to something much more to his taste. Something that would show her voluptuous cleavage, ripe for adornment with something glittering and expensive.
He tore his mind away. She wasn’t here to look alluring. That was the last thing he should want her to do. It had been hard enough to have her sitting beside him hour after hour on the flight over and make himself blank her presence. It had been next to impossible not to turn his head and drink in that beauty that had caught his breath as it did again now, even when she was wearing the unflattering dress. But he must not yield to such a dangerous temptation.
She’s here to work, to earn the right to go on living in a villa she can no longer afford.
It was time to remind her of that. Even more, to remind himself.
The staff were setting plates in front of them and pouring wine as Luke spoke. ‘I’ll be visiting the site first thing tomorrow morning,’ he said abruptly, lifting his fork and starting to eat. He was hungry after the change in time zone and it was past midnight on his body clock. ‘Because of the heat and the jet lag we’ll make an early start.’
He saw her swallow and take a drink from her glass. ‘Where is the site?’ she asked. ‘And what kind of property is it?’
It seemed to be an effort for her to speak, and that annoyed him. Why she should be radiating tension on all frequencies was beyond him. She was the one who’d rejected him. It had been her choice to leave, not his.
It was pointless to wonder, yet again, whether he was clinically insane to have brought her out here with him. He’d oscillated continuously in the twenty-four hours he’d given her to make her mind up, between cancelling his impulsive offer and raising the stakes on it. When she’d walked up to him in the airport lounge he’d felt that toxic mix of emotion writhe in him again, and he’d been plunged into confusion once more.
It filled him still, but he was hammering it down, refusing to face it. He had been insane to bring her here—truly mad to subject himself to her presence—but it was too late to change his mind. She was here and he would have to deal with it. Whatever strength of mind it took, he had to make this Caribbean project work and then get on with the rest of his life.