Stranded with the Tycoon. Sophie Pembroke
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smile grew a little wolfish. ‘Well, now...that’s up to you.’
‘Really?’ Luce said flatly.
‘Of course.’ Ben looked mildly offended. ‘I’m not saying I won’t give it my best shot. You’re a beautiful woman, and I enjoy the company of beautiful women. But at the end of the night you get the choice of my bed or the spare room. Either way you have a bed for the night.’
Luce found her gaze caught on his. He thought she was beautiful? Ben Hampton actually wanted her? Sober, all grown-up, not obviously crazy...and he wanted her. She could have dinner with him, flirt, kiss...more. All she had to do was say yes.
She tore her gaze away.
‘And tomorrow?’ she asked.
Ben’s smile slipped. ‘Tomorrow I’m leaving town. Look, whichever way tonight goes, it’s nothing sordid. Nothing to be ashamed of. We can enjoy each other’s company then go our separate ways. I’m not asking you for anything beyond tonight.’
‘So romantic,’ Luce muttered. She hated how unworldly he made her feel. His matter-of-fact proposition of a one-night stand was miles away from any date she’d been on in the last ten years. And also the reason she couldn’t give in to it. She wanted more from a night of passion than a kiss on the cheek at the end of it and never seeing each other again.
‘This isn’t romance,’ Ben said. ‘It’s much more fun than that. And, either way, I bet you feel better in the morning.’
And she would. Sex aside, she’d get a stress-free evening, with no need to entertain since Ben was clearly capable of making his own fun. She could just relax and let someone else take charge for a few hours. Could she even do that? She wasn’t sure she ever had before.
‘Admit it—you’re tempted.’
Ben leant across the table, that scarred eyebrow raised, and Luce knew that she was. In more ways than one.
‘By dinner,’ she told him firmly. ‘Nothing else.’
Ben gave her a lazy smile. ‘As you like.’
It might be the worst idea she’d ever had. But at least she’d have somewhere to sleep for the night, and the whole week ahead would look more manageable after a relaxing evening and a solid eight hours’ rest. And maybe tomorrow morning she could tell him who she was and watch his amused composure slip as he realised he’d tried to seduce Loser Luce. Again. That would almost make it worth it in itself.
I shouldn’t. I have responsibilities.
But even Grandad Myles, duty and responsibility’s biggest advocate, would have wanted her to take a night off once in a while. Wouldn’t he? She was stressed, overwhelmed and exhausted—and utterly useless to anybody in such a state. A night off to regroup would enable her to better help others and get things done more efficiently. Nothing at all to do with wanting to find out what she’d been missing on all those university nights out.
Besides, hadn’t she fantasised about a night in the Royal Court’s best suite?
‘On one condition,’ she said.
Ben grinned. ‘Anything.’
‘I want to take advantage of your hopefully plush and expensive bathroom first.’ With bubbles. And maybe champagne.
Ben’s grin grew wider. ‘Deal.’
‘Then give me my organiser back.’ She was already starting to feel a bit jittery without it. Maybe she could review her lists in the bath. Multi-tasking—that was the key to a productive life.
But Ben shook his head. ‘First thing tomorrow it’s all yours. Not one moment before.’
‘But I need—’
‘Trust me,’ Ben said, taking her hand in his across the table. ‘Tonight I’ll be in charge of meeting all your needs.’
A red-hot flush ran across Luce’s skin. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
CHAPTER THREE
LUCE HAD NEVER seen such a magnificent bathroom.
The size of the rolltop tub almost helped her forget the sight of Ben locking her beloved crimson leather organiser in the suite’s mini-safe. And the glass of champagne he’d poured her before she’d absconded to the bathroom more than made up for the way she’d blushed when he’d asked if she was sure she didn’t want him to help scrub her back.
Tearing her eyes away from the bath, Luce checked the door, then turned the lock. She’d told him as clearly as she could that the only part of his offer she was interested in was dinner and the spare bed. No point giving him the wrong idea now.
Of course she wasn’t entirely sure what the right idea was. Accepting an offer of a night out with a gorgeous man—whatever the terms and conditions—wasn’t exactly typical Luce behaviour. She hadn’t even made a pros and cons list, for a start.
But the decision was made now. She might as well make the most of it.
Turning on the taps, Luce rifled through the tiny bottles of complimentary lotions and potions, settling on something that claimed to be a ‘relaxing and soothing’ bath foam. Sounded perfect. After a moment’s consideration she tipped the whole bottle into the running water. She was in need of all the relaxation she could get. That was the point of this whole night, wasn’t it? And, since it was the only one she was likely to get for a while, she really should make the most of it.
Luce took a swig of her champagne, stripped off her clothes and climbed into the heavenly scented hot water.
Relaxation. How hard could it be?
It would be a whole lot easier, she decided after a few moments of remaining tense, if Ben Hampton wasn’t waiting outside for her.
Tipping her head back against the edge of the bath, Luce tried to conjure up the image of the last time she’d seen him. After so many years of trying to forget she’d thought it would be harder to remember. But the sounds, scents, sights were all as fresh in her mind as they’d been eight years ago, at the swanky Palace Hotel, London, for Ben’s twenty-first birthday party.
It had been a stupid idea to go in the first place. But Mandy had wanted someone to travel down on the train with and Ben had raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, ‘Well, sure you can come. If you really want to.’ And Luce had wanted to—just a bit. Just to see what birthdays looked like for the rich and privileged.
Much as she’d expected, it turned out. Too much champagne. Too many people laughing too loudly. Bright lights and dancing and shimmery expensive dresses. In her green cotton frock, and with her hair long and loose instead of pinned back in one of the intricate styles the other girls had seemed to favour, Luce had felt just as out of place as she’d predicted.
So she’d hidden in another room—some sort of sitting area decked out like a gentleman’s library. Books never made her feel inadequate, after all. She could sit and read until Mandy was ready to head back to their tiny shared hotel room. Not a Hampton hotel, but a cheap, probably infested place three tube stops away. It had been the perfect plan—until Ben had found her.
‘You’ve got the right idea,’ he’d said, lurching into the chair next to her.
Luce, who’d already watched him down glass after glass of champagne that evening, had inched further away. ‘Not enjoying your party?’ she’d asked.
Ben had shrugged. ‘It’s a party. Hard not to enjoy a party.’ His eyes had narrowed as he’d studied her. ‘Although you seem to be managing it.’
Looking away, Luce had fiddled with the hem of her dress. ‘It’s not really my kind of party.’
‘It’s not really mine either,’ Ben had said.
When Luce had glanced across at him he’d