Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
LUKE SWORE UNDER his breath as he dodged around the portly grey-haired man ambling along the corridor. What was it about this place? Everything seemed to run at half-speed.
The meeting he’d just been in had lasted four hours when it should have been over in one, and when they’d served coffee halfway through, it had been both instant and cold. Public sector bureaucracy at its finest. He rubbed his temple with his free hand, and it throbbed. At least the paracetamol he’d taken half an hour ago was starting to kick in. Why did government procurement processes have to be so tedious? He’d been chasing this job for over two years, and nobody had made a decision yet.
Still, if they could clinch the contract to provide a new data protection system to whatever branch of the security service this was—they wouldn’t even admit that much—all the sucking up, security clearances, and endless pitch documents would be worth it. It wasn’t that Luke found the project boring—the firewall architecture fascinated him—it was the hoops that he and his staff had to jump through to secure the work that frustrated him.
The beady red eye of a CCTV camera watched him as he stepped into the lift, and he jabbed at the button for the ground floor three times before the doors finally closed. Did they program them like that? To waste a little bit more of everybody’s lives each day?
“Can I take your visitor’s pass, Mr. Halston-Cain?” the receptionist called as he emerged in the atrium. He never normally used his full double-barrelled surname, but every other person in this place seemed to, and he didn’t want to be left out.
He handed the badge over to the overly efficient brunette and pushed through the turnstile. The lobby was packed, and when he looked through the glass doors to the street outside, he saw fat raindrops splashing against them. He’d have to wait in here for his car to arrive.
Luke fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and turned it on, but before he could call his driver, the screen lit up with a slew of incoming messages. He closed his eyes and groaned. Two days and—he quickly counted—thirty-six texts. If this kept up, he’d have to change his number.
He dialled his chauffeur. “Where are you?”
“Five minutes out, sir. Traffic’s worse than I’ve ever seen it.”
“I’ll be waiting by the door.”
The night before last, Luke had given in to Mark’s insistence that he needed to get over Ash and gone out on his first date since she left. The girl, a colleague of Mark’s girlfriend, had clearly looked him up on Wikipedia because she claimed to be an expert in every single one of his hobbies. Even bird watching, which he’d only put on there as a joke. He’d had a modicum of fun convincing her to perform the mating call of the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker in front of the restaurant’s patrons, but then she’d started talking again.
And her squeaky voice hurt. It actually hurt, and that was when his headache had started.
At half past eight, he’d got out his phone, feigned a server-related emergency out of desperation, and made a run for it.
Then the messages started. He politely declined her offers to meet him at home later, cook him breakfast, or meet up for lunch, then simply stopped replying. She hadn’t got the hint.
He sighed, feeling his stomach strain over his belt. He’d lost a few pounds before that horrendous charity thing, but he’d piled it all back on since. And last week, well, that had just sent him straight to the biscuit tin.
He’d stopped off at Mark’s place, hoping for a beer and a game of pool while planning to check on his little sister at the same time. She’d called on Monday to say she’d be staying with Mark’s sister to work on some school project, and he hadn’t seen her all week. She used to drive him nuts, but he’d found himself missing her. Go figure.
But Tia wasn’t there, and not only had she lied to him about that, she’d driven the knife in by going clubbing with Ash. Ash, his ex-girlfriend who’d turned lying into an art form then left him for a fiancé who cheated on her. She’d even had the gall to introduce the man to Luke before she hopped back into bed with him. Just the memory of it made him feel sick.
Ten days later, Luke was still fuming about Ash corrupting his sister. How dare she encourage Tia to go out drinking and who knew what else with her and a bunch of her cronies?
And when he called her on it, she’d accused him of being the irresponsible one!
Luke had grounded Tia, of course, and taken away her phone and laptop. He’d even unplugged the house phones and hidden them in his sock drawer. She needed to understand she couldn’t get away with lying to him. After all, she was only seventeen and even after being kidnapped, she was still hopelessly na?ve. Luke worried that she’d get taken advantage of, especially by teenage boys. He’d certainly been no saint at that age.
He thought he’d done the right thing trying to protect her until he got home and found the note saying she’d gone back to live with the mother they both hated. That hurt more than he wanted to admit.
Luke’s phone chirped, and the sight of another message from Charmaine almost made him throw the stupid thing against the marble-tiled wall. What did she want now?
Charmaine: I have a surprise for you! It’ll be waiting for you when you get home!
In case he was left under any illusion as to what she might mean, she’d helpfully included a photo of herself dressed in a PVC nurse’s outfit with a lacy red bra peeking out the top.
That did it. His thumbs flew over the screen.
Luke: I’m not interested. Stop—
He got no further as he hit a warm body and his phone went flying. A flurry of red hair blocked his vision, and the woman he’d knocked into tumbled to the floor. Luke barely kept his own footing as he tripped over a pair of long, pale legs, which ended in a pair of black patent stilettos that made his trousers tighten. In the other direction, the legs led to a pair of slim hips and a slender waist, and Luke’s gaze lingered a little too long on a chest hidden by a demure neckline. Forcing his eyes upwards, he found a face that made Charmaine look like a Picasso painting.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking…” He trailed off as he came to his senses and reached down to help her up. As she put her hand into his, he was already changing his plans for the evening. A takeaway and a DVD no longer held the slightest attraction. Thank goodness he’d brushed his teeth after lunch.
He pulled the woman to her feet, surprised when she stood eye-to-eye with him. Sure, she had those shoes on, but even so, she was tall. Their gazes connected for a split second before she looked down and gasped. The contents of her handbag lay strewn across the polished tiles, and she crouched to pick the mess up.
Luke bent to help her, and their foreheads met with a bump.
“Ow!” Her hand flew to her brow.
Once again, Luke tried to apologise. “I really am sorry. For knocking you down and for walking into you in the first place. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It’s all right, these things happen. Karma’s out to get me today.”
Her American accent caressed his ears. And those lips! Luke was already imagining them wrapped around things he shouldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, lost for words.
“D’ya know what this chaos is?” she asked, looking around.
“Tube strike. It was all over the news earlier.”
She swore under her breath, the words sounding foreign coming from such a beautiful creature. “Nothing’s running at all?”
Luke shook his head as a cacophony of horns sounded from outside. Gridlock didn’t bring out the best in people.
The woman fumbled in her bag. “Where’s my phone?” she muttered.
Luke spotted it under a chair and picked it up. “It’s cracked. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Don’t worry about it. As long as it works—I need to call for a car.”
Luke was desperate to make amends. “My driver will be here in a couple of minutes. Can I give you a lift somewhere?” Anywhere. Her place. A restaurant. A hotel. His house, if he managed to hit the jackpot. Could he convince her to shed that dress?
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“It’s no trouble.”
Luke had always prided himself on looking after the women in his life. He’d treated them well, been interested in their feelings, and got to know them before taking them to bed. And look how that had worked out.
He’d never tried the “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” approach before, but Rob assured him it worked. What better way to get over Ash than to replace her with an upgraded model?
And there was something about the redhead in front of him that made his head go funny.
She took another look outside. Two men squared up to each other, ready to come to blows over the only black cab in sight.
“Really, it’s okay,” she said. “It was just a little spill, and I can call for a car myself. I should have done that in the first place, but the Tube’s usually quicker.”
Luke saw his chance slipping away. “I insist. I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything.”
He tried to lighten the mood because, for a beautiful woman, she looked incredibly sad.
“I’m not worried about that,” she replied, lips flickering into what Luke hoped was a smile. “If you’re able to give me a lift, it sure would save me a lot of time.”
“No problem. Follow me.”
Luke’s car drew up seconds after they reached the front of the lobby. He wished he had an umbrella to hold over the redhead as they dashed through the rain to his black limousine, but he’d forgotten to bring one. He wrenched the door open as they reached the vehicle and helped her into the back. Her skirt rose as she slid into the leather seat, and Luke could barely drag his gaze away from her legs as he climbed in beside her. She gave the driver her address, then Luke wound up the privacy screen.
“So,” he said, trying to break the ice. “Why are you having such a bad day?”
Men were supposed to ask things like that, right? It made them seem caring. He’d lost his touch lately, and he needed to get it back.
Her forehead crinkled with worry lines, and she bit her plump bottom lip. Adorable . Luke felt a movement in the trouser department as other parts of his anatomy agreed with him.
“A friend of mine’s gone missing, and I’m helping with the search. I’m worried in case we don’t find her.”
“Have you tried all the usual places? Friends, relatives?”
“It’s not that straightforward. She was on, uh, vacation when she disappeared.”
“Have you got the local police involved?”
“Unfortunately, the police in that locale aren’t all that helpful.”
“She’ll probably turn up. Most people do. Maybe she just had one drink too many and wandered off?”
Mark had gone missing in France three or four years back, and they found him in the next village, clutching a bottle of Calvados with no recollection as to how he got there.
“We know she didn’t do that. It’s been days now.” The redhead gave a sniffle.
Luke’s chest tightened. Crying women scared him, and he was never quite sure how to handle them. The situation got worse when she turned to the window and swiped at her eyes, then her shoulders shook as the tears came.
Oh dear. Now what? Luke pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her. He carried one out of habit, drilled into him long ago by his mother.
“Th-th-thanks.”
He gathered her into his arms and hugged her. All thoughts of a good time floated away on her river of tears, but he didn’t know what else to do. She tensed at first, but after a few seconds, she relaxed and dropped her head against his shoulder. Like she was made for him, she fitted perfectly into his arms, and one arm wrapped around his chest and clutched at his shirt. She quivered against him as she choked back fresh sobs.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she wept. “I don’t even know you, and I’m breaking down on you.”
“It’s okay,” Luke reassured her, keeping his fingers crossed the tears didn’t get worse. “I’ll take care of you.”
He was surprised to find he meant it. Unable to resist, he dipped his head and kissed her hair. What was it about the sweet scent of vanilla that made him lose his senses?
She gripped him more tightly, and Luke felt her heart beating against his chest like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. He had an urge to kiss her properly, but he held off. That wasn’t what she needed right now.
The snarled-up traffic cleared as they got further from the river, and soon they were moving faster.It wasn’t long until the driver interrupted through the intercom.
“We’re here, love. Albany House.”
Luke peered out onto the dimly lit street. They were on millionaire’s row. Maybe even billionaire’s row. These homes made his look like a Lego house. Who was this lady?
She extricated herself from his arms, biting her lip again. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never broken down on a complete stranger before.”
“Luke,” he said.
“What?”
“Luke. That’s my name. I’m not a complete stranger now.”
“Oh. I’m Mackenzie.”
An awkward silence ensued as they waited in the car outside Mackenzie’s house, Luke’s arms still around her. Much to his embarrassment, he couldn’t help stifling a yawn, which seemed to spur her into action.
“I guess I should go inside,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
“If you need someone to talk to, I can lend an ear.”
“You’re tired. I’m sorry for keeping you up.”
“It’s been a long week. I’ll get some coffee on the way home, no problem.”
She stilled a moment, as if turning over her thoughts before coming to a decision. “Uh, do you want to come in? I have coffee here. I could make you a cup as thanks for the lift?”
Something about the woman piqued his interest, and it was more than just her figure. A collision certainly wasn’t how he’d usually meet a girl, and on any other day he’d have run a mile at the sight of tears, but he was drawn to her.
“I’d like that.”
Mackenzie gathered her belongings and Luke picked up his briefcase, letting her climb out of the car first. It wasn’t entirely altruistic—he enjoyed the view as she stooped to get through the door. After seeing her upset, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking the thoughts he was, but something more primal had taken over his mind. Mackenzie’s hips swayed in front of him as he followed her past the colourful winter pansies that edged the path, and he wished the lighting was a little better.
She unlocked the huge wooden door using a numbered keypad, a fingerprint scanner, and finally a key. A pang of jealousy hit him. He’d been toying with the idea of installing a similar system at his own house, but the forms were still sitting on his desk, shoved aside in favour of cat doodles as he’d wallowed in self-pity.
Why did she need such a complicated set of locks? Seriously, who was she? He’d barely had time to contemplate the question when she swung the door open and sashayed into the stark white entrance hall.
The first thing Luke saw was an ornate chandelier made from multi-coloured sculpted glass. By Chihuly, if he remembered correctly.
There weren’t enough four letter words in the dictionary to convey how Luke felt.
Because he recognised this house.