Playboy Boss, Pregnancy Of Passion Part 9

CHAPTER SEVEN.

WHEN Sara emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, Luke was sitting up in bed, covered by a sheet up to his waist, working on his laptop. There was a pile of clothes on the bed next to him; clearly he intended to follow her lead and put his clothes on with a closed door between them.

'The bathroom's all yours,' she said.

'Thanks.' He saved his file, switched off the laptop, then headed for the bathroom while Sara averted her gaze.

While he showered and dressed, she busied herself tidying the room. Putting the bed back into a semblance of decency and trying not to think about just how she and Luke had rumpled the sheets only a few minutes before.

'Shall we go down to breakfast?' he asked as he came out of the bathroom.

His hair was damp and tousled and he looked thoroughly gorgeous, but his tone was casual and neutral. As if they were colleagues who'd had separate rooms and he'd merely knocked on her door at the agreed time. As if they hadn't just blown each other's minds.

She suppressed the throb of disappointment. This was how she'd wanted it, wasn't it? 'Sure. Is that your idea of casual?' She indicated his formal trousers and crisp white shirt.

'I'm not wearing a tie.' He shrugged. 'How else am I going to dress?'

'We're at the seaside. You can't paddle in trousers; you need shorts.'

'No, I don't. Besides, shorts don't exactly go with shoes.'

Especially as his were highly polished and looked handmade.

Though he'd look great in shorts. The sort that came down to the knees-cut-off black chinos, with that white shirt unb.u.t.toned a little more and his sleeves rolled up a bit. Add a pair of dark gla.s.ses and bare feet, and he'd be stunning. Like a pirate.

'Unlike some people around here,' he added, clearly oblivious to the thoughts running through her head, 'I don't have the contents of half a shoe shop in my wardrobe.'

'I don't have that many pairs.' Not with her, at any rate.

'You've worn seven different pairs to the office already. And the ones you're wearing right now are different again.'

He'd noticed her shoes?

She wasn't quite sure what to think. In her experience, men didn't notice shoes. Then again, Luke was the kind of man who could make you think he was wool-gathering, but would get ten out of ten if you told him to close his eyes and then asked him detailed questions about his surroundings.

'You don't wear shoes when you paddle,' she said.

'I'm not buying a pair of shorts just to please you.'

She shrugged. 'Your choice. You'll just have to roll your trousers up to your knees.'

'I'm not going...' His voice faded and he held both hands up in surrender. 'OK. I submit. Otherwise you'll argue with me until breakfast is over-and I'm starving.'

They went down to the hotel restaurant together. Clearly they were here towards the end of the hotel's allotted time for the meal, because only one other table was occupied-and the elderly couple looked as if they'd almost finished their meal. There was a help-yourself cold buffet set out on tables at one end of the room, or the menu stated that they could order a full English breakfast. Remembering their meal from the previous evening, Sara decided to go for the safe option, sticking to fruit and yoghurt. Luke was clearly thinking along the same lines, as he opted for toast.

The coffee, when it arrived, was stewed. Maybe it was their fault for arriving so late, she thought, but did it really take that much effort to make half a pot of fresh coffee? And when she glanced at Luke's plate, she noticed that the b.u.t.ter hadn't melted into his toast. Which meant it was probably cold and chewy, like the stuff she remembered from her student days. She wasn't surprised when he left most of it.

'So what's the plan for this morning?' she asked.

'Look around. Mental notes. Actually, there's a spa here, so you could go for a treatment.'

'What sort of treatment?'

He spread his hands. 'Anything you like. My bill. And, before you protest,' he added with a grin, 'I can't exactly try it out myself, can I?'

'There's no reason why men can't have a facial.'

He groaned. 'Please. Do you talk to your brother like this?'

She thought about it. 'Yes. Both of them.'

'Just book something,' he said. 'And I'm going to use the hotel pool.'

Ten minutes later, she texted him. Beautician fully booked. Going for a walk on the beach. Call me when you're ready.

Almost immediately, her phone rang.

'I'm ready now,' Luke said, 'so I might as well take that walk with you.'

'I thought you were going for a swim?'

'The pool's out of action because of the burst pipe,' he said. 'So I think we need a discussion over coffee.'

'Provided it's somewhere else,' she said in a low voice. 'This morning's was undrinkable. I could really, really do with a latte.'

'Does this mean you don't want lunch here, either?'

'I've got a better idea. We skip lunch and have an ice cream on the beach.'

He sighed. 'You're going to nag until you get it, aren't you?'

'Absolutely. And my paddle in the sea-our paddle,' she corrected herself.

'Where are you?'

'Reception.'

'Stay put. I'll meet you there.'

He joined her in a couple of minutes and they headed towards the seafront. They found a small cafe overlooking the sea where the coffee smelled good and the scent of bacon was mouth-watering.

True to form, her stomach rumbled.

Luke stifled a grin, but not before she noticed. 'Emergency chocolate required?' he asked.

'An emergency bacon sandwich would be better.'

'That,' Luke said, 'is the second-best idea you've had this morning.'

Was the first making love with him? Though she wasn't sure she dared ask.

'Find us a table-I'll go and order. Latte, wasn't it?'

'Thanks.'

He joined her, carrying the coffee. When the bacon sandwich arrived, the bread was thickly cut from a bloomer loaf, incredibly soft and fresh; the bacon was home-cured and grilled to the perfect crispness, and the tomato ketchup definitely tasted home-made.

'This,' she said after finishing her first mouthful, 'is fantastic. And this is what that hotel should've been offering this morning. I bet you anything you like, their bacon would've been microwaved and their bread would've been soggy.'

'You're really not impressed with the hotel, are you?' Luke asked wryly.

'Let's face it, they don't have a clue. And if you really need me to list what's wrong...'

'Go for it,' he invited.

It took her eight minutes.

'You're absolutely right,' he said when she'd finished.

'But?' She could see the word in his face.

'But doesn't that feel like a challenge for you?' he asked. 'Doesn't it make you want to go and sort it all out?'

She sighed. 'I know you like a challenge, Luke, but I think the place needs too much work. And it's probably listed-so you'll end up going through tons of red tape if you want to do so much as painting a window frame, let alone anything structural.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'So you're an expert on listed buildings?'

'My family home's listed,' she explained, 'so I know from work my parents have had done in the past that it can be a nightmare. Luckily we know this brilliant architect, Max Taylor, who specialises in restoring listed buildings. And he's got fantastic contacts-that saves a huge amount of time. He tells us exactly what needs to be done and who can do it, and the local planning department know he knows what he's doing so they trust him and don't drag things out.'

'He sounds like a very useful contact. Perhaps you can introduce me to him.'

'Sure. But I can tell you now he won't come all the way up here,' she warned. 'Unless it's a really special building-which that hotel most definitely isn't-he only works within the area of the M25.'

Luke frowned. 'I thought your family lived in Kent.'

'We do. Anyway, that doesn't include us.' She flapped a dismissive hand. 'We were clients before.'

'Before what?'

'Before he got married and had kids. He's a really hands-on father.'

'I see.'

Although his expression hardly changed, she was aware that there was a barrier between them. His eyes might just as well have had steel shutters pulled down; she had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. What had she said to produce that effect so quickly?

Then she remembered what Luke had said about not having a mother and her own supposition about the men in his family. It looked as if she was right; Luke clearly had issues about families. And, if she didn't want him to clam up on her completely, she needed to get their conversation back on track-onto something he found safe. Work. 'Anyway. I don't think it's viable because it would take up all your time. It'd be closed for months while you made the repairs and alterations, so you'd be losing money hand over fist.'

Luke smiled. 'I think my cash flow would be able to withstand it.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Of course. I forgot. You're a millionaire. That's why you're looking at buying a truly awful rundown place.'

'It's calling speculating to acc.u.mulate. And I did warn you it wasn't going to be luxurious,' he reminded her.

'A place can still be comfortable without costing an arm and a leg,' she pointed out. 'I don't doubt that you could do it.' Luke Holloway was the kind of man who could do anything he set his mind to. 'But is it going to be worth the cost? And I don't mean just financially.'

'My time, you mean?'

'And your social life. Either you'll have to fly from here to London-that is, if there's an airport nearby-and that'll scupper your plans about being green, or you'll have to give up the parties.'

He shrugged. 'As I said before, I'm getting bored with the parties.'

And bored with his gorgeous, exotic-looking model-type girlfriends?

She pushed the thought away. It was irrelevant. He'd already made it clear that he wasn't looking for a relationship. What had happened between them this morning was clearly a one-off.

And she wasn't even going to let herself think about tonight.

'Have you thought about your clients?' she asked. 'Are they going to be local, or would you expect people to travel five hours from London?'

'That's something to think about,' he said. 'But, as I said, I'm looking to build a chain. All in spa towns and seaside resorts, like this. All with good, simple food cooked with local ingredients. Old-fashioned good service and spa treatments-I could even offer genuine local spa waters, just as people took them a hundred years ago.'

She stared at him, horrified. 'Luke, have you ever actually tasted spa water?'

'Have you?' he countered.

'Yes. And it's vile. Anyway, I thought spa therapy meant bathing in the stuff, not just drinking it?'

'Depends if the water's warm or cold,' Luke said. 'Or hot.'

Suddenly the heat was back in his eyes. And she had a feeling that the idea inside her head matched the one inside his: just the two of them and a hot tub. Her hand was shaking slightly as she lifted her mug of latte; she really hoped he couldn't see it. Didn't guess what kind of effect he had on her.

She really had to get a grip. Even if Luke was changing his mind about a relationship, she wasn't. 'Right. Enough work for now. I want my walk on the beach,' she said, forcing herself to sound all bright and chirpy, and not in the slightest as if she wanted to drag him back to their awful hotel room and rip all his clothes off.

'And the whippy ice cream with a chocolate flake in it. Yeah, yeah. I get the message.'

As they walked across the beach, Luke saw a man teaching his small son how to fly a kite.

More than twenty years ago, Luke had stood on this selfsame beach, doing exactly what the little boy was doing now: giving every sc.r.a.p of attention to the man who was holding the reel of string and explaining how to hold it. His father.

Sara clearly noticed what he was looking at, because she asked softly, 'Did you ever do that as a kid?'

He nodded. 'I remember having a blue kite, the traditional shape with a really long red and yellow tail. Actually, it was on this beach my dad taught me to fly it. I must have been about four or five at the time. I couldn't keep the tension and the kite kept dropping out of the sky, but he didn't give up. He rescued it and brushed the wet sand off, and we kept going until finally it flew and I could feel the wind tugging at it. And it was so good to see my kite flying up there and knowing I was doing it all myself...' He shook his head. 'Ah, it was a long time ago. Not important.'