Cathy Williams - The Real Romero

‘Married to a bastard who will probably find another skirt to chase within two years of getting hitched? I wouldn’t wallow in too much self-pity if I were you…’

Milly laughed. To the point. Where her friends would spend literally hours analysing, he had cut to the chase in a few sentences.

‘And now shall we see how that food of yours is doing?’ Lucas stood up and stretched and Milly tried not to let her mouth fall open at the ripple of muscle discernible under his clothes.

‘Yes, the food; the stolen food.’

‘And I shall make a few calls; do something about this job of yours that’s disappeared under your feet.’

Milly hadn’t forgotten about that but she had decided not to mention it again. People had a way of saying stuff they seriously meant at the time but five minutes later had completely forgotten. Sometimes she had been guilty of that particular crime. A wide, sweeping invitation to friends to come round for drinks only to realise afterwards that she would actually be at work on the evening in question.

‘You’re going to make a few calls?’

‘Two, in actual fact.’ He watched her cute rear as she preceded him into the kitchen. He knew more about her life after five seconds than he had about anyone he had dated in the past, but then he didn’t naturally encourage outpourings, and the women he dated were all too conscious of the fact that they had to toe the line. No outpourings. No long life stories. No involved anecdotes.

Was it any wonder that he was frankly enjoying himself? He would never have imagined that being a ski instructor could be such a liberating experience. He wondered whether he shouldn’t become a ski instructor for a week every year just so that he could refresh his palate with a taste of normality.

He disappeared, heading back to the sitting room so that he could make his calls as he stood absently looking down at the sprawling white vista outside his lodge.

One call to his mother, to tell her that he might be staying on slightly longer than originally thought. The other to Alberto, to tell him that his chalet girl had arrived to find herself jobless and that he would be digging into his pocket to pay her what she was due, because she would be staying on, and that he should contact whatever agency he got her from and relay the message. Lucas could easily have afforded to pay her himself but on principle he saw no reason why he should pick up the tab. The man was grossly over-paid by his company for what he did, and Lucas suspected that he had told the agency that the deal was off at the last possible minute because neither he nor his wife would really have given a damn if their chalet girl’s nose was put out of joint.

He sauntered into the kitchen, snapping his phone shut just as she was dishing out two heaped bowls of pasta.

‘Done.’

Alone and away from his overpowering personality, Milly had had a little while to consider the prospect of spending two weeks with a man she didn’t know in a lodge that belonged to neither of them. The plan made no sense. Were they to deplete the contents of the fridge? Guzzle all the alcohol? Then leave with a cheery wave goodbye? Wouldn’t a bill catch up with her sooner or later? There was no such thing as a free lunch, after all, not to mention two weeks’ worth of free lunches.

And, also, what if the ski instructor with the drop-dead good looks turned out to be dodgy? He didn’t seem the violent type but who was to say he was trustworthy? He could be a gentleman by day and a sex maniac by night.

Bracketing Lucas and sex in the same thought brought hectic colour to her cheeks. Even if he was a closet sex maniac, there was no chance he would look twice in her direction. Robert, who had been nice looking but definitely not in Adonis’s league, hadn’t found her attractive. That, in a nutshell, said it all as far as Milly was concerned.

But she still found herself hesitating, clearing her throat and sitting down at the sleek kitchen table with burning, self-conscious hesitation.

Would it be inappropriate to ask him for a CV? she wondered. Maybe a few references from women he had happened to be thrown together with inadvertently who had found him to be a decent, honourable man with upstanding moral values?

‘The look of joy and satisfaction seems to be missing from your expression.’ Lucas tucked into the pasta, which was as good as anything he had had in any restaurant. He had wondered about the ‘professional chef’ description of herself—had thought that maybe it was a bit of self-congratulation when, in fact, she worked behind the scenes at the local fast food joint—but she was a seriously good cook.

‘Well….’ Curiosity got the better of her. ‘How did you manage to do that? I mean when you say done… ’

‘You’d be surprised at the things I can accomplish when I put my mind to it. Your job here is safe, and you’ll be fully paid for the duration. Even if you decide to leave after two days.’

Milly’s mouth dropped open and Lucas grinned wryly.

‘Admit it. You’re impressed.’

‘Wow. You must have an awful lot of influence with the Ramos family.’ A thought struck her and she went bright red and took refuge in her pasta.

‘Why do I get the feeling that there’s something on your mind?’ Lucas drawled drily.

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Maybe it’s because you’ve suddenly turned the colour of puce. Or maybe it’s because you have a face that’s as transparent as a pane of glass. Pick either option. The food’s delicious, by the way. Were it not for the red hair, I would be tempted to think that you have a streak of Italian running through you.’

‘Auburn, not red. I don’t like the word “red”,’ Milly automatically asserted, still staring down at her plate.

‘Spit it out, Milly of the “auburn not red” hair…’

‘Well, you probably wouldn’t like it.’

Lucas helped himself to more pasta, poured himself another glass of wine and allowed the silence to stretch between them. Eventually, he rescued her from her agonising indecision.

‘Trust me, I’m built like a brick wall when it comes to being offended.’ Not that he could think, offhand, of anyone who would dare say something offensive to him. The joys of wealth and power.

‘You really are arrogant, aren’t you?’ Milly said distractedly and he delivered her a slashing smile that temporarily knocked her for six. ‘Well, if you must know, I just wondered whether you managed to pull strings because you’re sleeping with Mrs Ramos…’ She said it in one rushed sentence and then held her breath and waited for a reply.

For a few seconds, Lucas didn’t actually believe what he had just heard and then, when it had sunk in, he wasn’t sure whether to be outraged, amused or incredulous.

‘Well…’ She dragged that one syllable out, licking her lips nervously. ‘It makes a weird kind of sense.’

‘In what world does it make a weird kind of sense?’

‘How else would you be able to get me my job and ensure that I get paid for it?’

‘Ski instructors can have a lot of influence, as it happens.’ Lucas skirted over that sweeping and vague statement because it was one thing to delicately economise on the truth and another to lie outright, especially to someone who, he suspected, had probably never told so much as a white lie in her entire life. ‘I’ve helped Alberto out on a number of occasions and, put it this way, he was more than happy to do as I asked. Furthermore, I would never go near a married woman.’

‘You wouldn’t?’

‘Don’t tell me—all the ski instructors you’ve met have been more than obliging with women whether they were wearing wedding rings on their fingers or not?’