Snowbound Seduction: A Night of No Return / To Claim His Heir by Christmas / I'll Be Yours for Christmas

The heat was starting to make her feel strange and she didn’t know whether it was from the ferocious desert sun or the heat that came from being close to Lucas.

They reached the entrance and were greeted by a beautiful girl dressed in a smart uniform.

‘Mr Jackson. Welcome! I hope your journey was comfortable.’ She shook hands and then glanced at Emma, clearly expecting to see Tara. A consummate professional, her smile didn’t slip. ‘Welcome to the Zubran Ferrara Spa Resort. I’m Aliana, Head of Guest Relations. I hope your stay is comfortable, but if there is anything at all you need then do please ask.’

And judging from the woman’s expression, nothing was off-limits, Emma thought, feeling a rush of jealousy that she knew was totally inappropriate.

‘This is Emma,’ Lucas said calmly. ‘Emma is my PA.’

‘Of course.’ Despite the smooth response it was obvious that the girl considered ‘PA’ to be a euphemism for a very different role. ‘If you follow me, we have your suite ready. And Mr Ferrara asked me to pass on a message when you checked in.’

‘Message?’

The woman cleared her throat. ‘The message was, “Tell him he’s in the Presidential Suite and if it leaks I’m never working with him again.” His words,’ she said hastily. ‘I’m just the messenger. I’m absolutely sure that nothing you designed would ever leak, Mr Jackson.’

Lucas simply laughed and Emma was about to ask why there would be any concern about the Presidential Suite leaking when a pair of glass doors in front of them opened with a smooth hiss and they walked down a gentle slope and into the most breathtakingly beautiful room she’d ever seen.

‘We’re under the water. Oh my—’ she gasped as a shoal of brightly coloured fish swam right in front of her, darting through softly floating fronds of seaweed. ‘It’s amazing. Like being inside an aquarium.’ For some reason she hadn’t noticed this on the model. Or maybe she had, but just hadn’t registered that it would be under the water. She was always so busy, she realised, she never really had a chance to appreciate the scope of his genius. It was truly imaginative. And restful.

‘It’s not entirely under the water. Just this room.’ Frowning, Lucas turned to the woman. ‘I told Cristiano to use the suite.’

‘Mr Ferrara is here with his whole family, including his young daughters,’ the woman said. ‘His security team decided that the Coral Suite is more suitable for small children because it’s possible to close off the pool. And you are, after all, the guest of honour. This amazing, iconic hotel is your brainchild.’ She looked suitably star-struck but if Lucas even noticed, there was no sign of it.

‘Right.’ He put his briefcase down on the table. ‘And when is the Prince arriving?’

‘His Royal Highness sends his apologies. He intended to join you for dinner tonight but instead he finds himself tied up with a delegation from Al Rafid. He looks forward to joining you at the party. As you know, every royal and celebrity in the world has been holding their breath hoping for a ticket.’ Smiling, she handed him a slender object that looked like a remote control. ‘The technology in the hotel is quite staggering but I suppose I don’t need to give you a lesson on that, given that you were involved in all stages of the planning. It’s all voice controlled.’

Voice controlled?

Emma had been so busy gawping that she was barely listening. She’d never been anywhere so luxurious. The use of glass made it feel as if they were actually on the water, part of the sea rather than the land. And it had been furnished to reflect the same sea, soft leather sofas designed for lounging, the floor covered in rugs in marine shades of blue and turquoise.

As the woman left them alone, she glanced around her. ‘Voice controlled? So exactly which part of it is voice controlled?’

Lucas was prowling around the suite, checking various details. ‘Everything. The lights. The blinds on the windows. The sound system. You can operate it all without once moving from the bed.’

His choice of words made her flush but fortunately he wasn’t looking at her.

‘So if I say music—’ She stopped, enchanted as the smooth notes of Chopin flowed through the room. ‘Oh that is so cool.’

Lucas observed her delight with a lifted eyebrow. ‘That is just the default track. List the track you want and it will play it. And you adjust the volume by saying “volume up” and “volume down”. I wish I could install something similar in my clients,’ he drawled. ‘And now you need to get dressed. I’m taking you to dinner.’

It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

Ever since she’d woken this morning he’d been careful to keep his distance. He’d warned her off. Apart from that one unguarded confession in the kitchen, their relationship had reverted back to employer and employee. During the journey he’d been cold and more than a little intimidating.

But now he wanted to take her to dinner, in this beautifully romantic place where the sun was just setting?

She should say no. Her heart raced away in a frantic rhythm. ‘I don’t have anything to wear.’

His eyes were on his phone as he checked his emails. ‘Avery has just sent a message to confirm that she arranged for a selection of clothes to be delivered to your room. She’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow to shop for something to wear at the party.’

‘But—’

‘Whatever she’s picked out should hopefully be enough to get you through until the morning.’

But Emma wasn’t thinking about the dress. She was thinking about having dinner with him. She was wondering why he’d changed his mind. ‘Lucas—’ Her voice was croaky. ‘Is this a good idea? Do you really want to have dinner?’

‘Of course.’ He didn’t glance up from his emails. ‘The restaurant is the most complex part of this structure. I want to see whether the end result gives the dining experience that I hoped for when I designed it.’

Dining experience?

Emma stood still, horrified to realise how close she’d come to making a total fool of herself yet again. Once again, her brain had twisted his words. A week ago if he’d mentioned dinner she would have assumed it was all about business. Now, she was imagining soft words and the promise of something more, whereas the reality was that when he’d asked her to have dinner with him it hadn’t been a romantic proposition, but a practical one. It wasn’t that he wanted to have dinner with her. It was that he wanted to have dinner in the restaurant he’d designed, and she was supposed to accompany him.

She breathed deeply, hating the fact that she felt disappointed. And as for the hollow feeling inside her—well, she hated that too.

Registering her prolonged silence, he finally glanced up. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Nothing. I’ll just go and change.’

Enough, she thought as she walked quickly into the second bedroom.

Enough.

How much clearer could he make it? Where was her pride and her common sense? From now on she was going to think of him as her boss and nothing else. That way, she not only got to keep her job, she got to keep her sanity.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u964a5c11-d789-58b2-8c75-f4cf7adc9bee)

THE situation was a thousand times more delicate to handle than he’d anticipated. He’d seen her face when he’d invited her to dinner and knew instantly that he’d made a major miscalculation. She’d wanted dinner to be something else. Despite all his warnings, she’d hoped. And he, who shattered women’s hopes on a regular basis without thought or care, had found it hard to shatter hers. But shatter them he had and she’d slipped quietly away to the second bedroom with her dignity intact and had been there ever since.

Cursing softly, Lucas dragged his hand over the back of his neck and wondered if she’d been crying. The thought disturbed him far more than he would have expected.

He checked his watch again. Should he knock on the door and check on her? Avery Scott was nothing if not ruthlessly efficient so he doubted that the problem was with the clothes. Something she’d provided was bound to fit, surely? So what was taking her so long?

Reluctant to become embroiled in an emotional conversation that could only make the situation between them even worse, he decided to give her another few minutes.

Restless, he paced through to the living room and switched on the news headlines. If nothing else it would provide him with dinner conversation.

‘I’m ready.’ Her voice came from behind him, crisp and businesslike and he turned, relieved that she sounded like the Emma he knew but then he saw her and realised that this woman was nothing like that Emma.

His instruction to Avery had been to provide clothes. He hadn’t bothered to spell out the fact that those clothes should be practical rather than seductive. He’d seen dinner as an opportunity to talk business, agree the schedule of media interviews and all the other details they had to discuss and had assumed she’d dress accordingly. He’d expected a sober, sensible outfit in muted colours. Instead, he was greeted by a tempting swirl of vivid scarlet that was neither muted nor sober.

The dress flowed rather than clung, the cut and quality of the fabric skimming her curves. Curves that he remembered with disturbing clarity. Curves that sent him from a state of relative calm to one of intense arousal.

Knowing that he was in trouble, Lucas breathed deeply. ‘I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised she’d pick something so—’ he fished for the right word ‘—red. You must be furious.’ He was furious. And he wondered for a moment whether Avery had done it on purpose. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d tried to match him up with someone.

‘You don’t like it?’

‘It’s not exactly...practical.’