The Real Romero

Bracing conversations with his mother could be better faced after he had vented his frustrations in a few black runs.

Peace and quiet seemed to have nosedived, however, and he was not in the best of moods to be standing here, staring down a crazy woman brandishing his kettle and threatening to call the police.

A short, crazy woman, with red hair that was all over the place, and who thought he was looting the place. Hilarious.

‘You don’t really think you could take me on, do you?’ With lightning reflexes, he reached out and relieved her of her dangerous weapon, which he proceeded to set back down on its base. ‘Now, before I call the police and have you forcibly removed, you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here.’

Deprived of the kettle, Milly stuck her chin out at a stubborn angle and stared at him defiantly. ‘You’re not scaring me, if that’s your intention.’

‘It’s never been my intention to scare a woman.’

The man oozed sex appeal through every pore. It was off-putting. How could she get her thoughts in order when he stood there, looking at her with those darker-than-night eyes that were insolent and intransigent at the same time? How was she supposed to think?

‘I’m actually employed here.’ Milly broke the silence. A thin film of perspiration had broken out over her body and, try as she might, she couldn’t seem to peel her eyes away from him.

He raised one enquiring eyebrow, and she glared at him, because she had every right to be here which he, almost certainly, did not.

What, she wondered, could possibly go wrong next? How could one person’s life get derailed in such a short space of time? She should have been here recovering, looking forward to an essential break from normality while she mentally gathered her forces and rallied her troops in preparation for returning to London. She should have been using the splendid kitchen to whip something up that was gluten-free for Mrs Ramos, meat-based for her husband and healthily braised for their children! Instead, she was having a staring match with someone who looked like Adonis but behaved like a caveman.

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘Not that it’s any of your business! I’m the chalet girl the Ramos employed to work for them for the next two weeks. And they’ll be here any minute now…’

‘Ah…chalet girl… Now, why am I finding that hard to believe when I know for a fact that Alberto and Julia won’t be here because one of their children is ill?’ He strolled over to the fridge and helped himself to a bottle of mineral water, which he proceeded to drink while keeping his eye on her.

‘Oh.’ The annoying, arrogant man wasn’t a robber but, instead of rushing to reassure her, he had prolonged her discomfort by not deigning to tell her that he knew the family who owned the lodge. Were there any nice guys left in the world? ‘Well, if you think that I’m going to apologise for…for…’

‘Coming at me with the kettle?’

‘Then you’re mistaken. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you shouldn’t sneak around, and you should have told me that you knew the owners…’ A thought occurred to her. ‘I suppose they’ve let you down, as well?’

‘Come again?’

‘They let me down,’ Milly expanded glumly. Now that she was no longer in danger of imminent attack, her breathing had more or less returned to normal, but she still found that she had to put a little distance between her and Adonis, who was still standing by the fridge and yet managing to have a very weird effect on her nervous system.

His legs, she noted absently as she sat down on one of the high-tech leather-and-chrome chairs by the table, were long and muscular and he had good ankles. Not many men had good ankles but he had excellent ones—brown like the rest of him…with a sprinkling of dark hair…

She surfaced to find that he had said something and she frowned.

‘Not you, as well.’ She groaned, because from the tail end of his sentence she gathered he had been pointing out the obvious—which was how it was that she had managed to make the trip without being notified that the job had been cancelled. ‘I’ve had enough lecturing from Sandra about not picking up my phone; I don’t think I have the energy to sit through you telling me the same thing. Anyway, why are you here? Didn’t your agency let you know before you made a wasted trip here?’

Lucas had the dazed feeling of someone thrown into a washing machine and the spin cycle turned to full blast. She had raked her fingers through her wild red hair, which he now appreciated was thick and very long, practically down to her waist, a tumbling riot of curls and waves.

‘Agency?’ Never lost for words in any given situation, he now found himself speechless.

‘Sandra’s the girl at the agency that employed me. In London.’ She permitted herself to look at him fully and could feel hot colour racing up to her face. He was obviously foreign, beautifully and exotically foreign, but his English was perfect, with just a trace of an accent.

‘My job was to cook for the Ramos family and babysit their children.’ It suddenly occurred to her that he had called them by their Christian names. She had been under strict instructions to use their full titles and to remember that they weren’t her friends. It just went to show how different agencies operated; just her luck to have got stuck with snooty Sandra. ‘What were you employed to do? No, you don’t have to tell me.’

‘I don’t?’ Fascinating. Like someone from another planet. Wherever Lucas went, he generated adulation and subservience from women. They tripped over themselves to please him. They said what they imagined he wanted to hear. Born into wealth, he had known from a tender age what the meaning of power was and now, at the ripe young age of thirty-four, and with several fortunes behind him—some inherited, the rest made himself. He was accustomed to being treated like a man at the top of his game. A billionaire who could have whatever he pleased at the snap of his imperious fingers.

What did this woman think he did? He was curious to hear.

‘Ski instructor.’ Milly discovered that this strange turn of events was having a very beneficial effect on her levels of depression. Robbie, Emily and the horror story that had suddenly become her life had barely crossed her mind ever since Adonis had appeared on the scene.

‘Ski instructor.’ He was parroting everything she said. He couldn’t believe it.

‘You have the look of a ski instructor,’ Milly said thoughtfully.

‘Am I to take that as a compliment?’

‘You can if you want.’ She backtracked hastily just in case he got it into his head that she was somehow trying it on with him, which she wasn’t, because aside from anything else she was far too upset even to look at another man. ‘Isn’t it amazing how rich people live?’ She swiftly changed the topic and watched, warily, as he dumped the bottled water on the counter, making no effort even to look for the bin, and sauntered towards the kitchen table so that he could sit on one of the chairs, idly pulling another towards him with his foot and using it as a foot rest.

‘Amazing,’ Lucas agreed.

‘I mean, have you had a chance to look around this place? It’s like something from one of those house magazines! It’s hard to believe that anyone actually ever uses this lodge. Everything’s just so…shiny and expensive!’

‘Money impresses you, does it?’ Lucas thought of all the other apartments and houses he owned, scattered in cities across the world from New York to Hong Kong. He even had a villa on an exclusive Caribbean island. He hadn’t been there for at least a couple of years…

Milly leaned on the table, cupped her chin in the palm of her hand and gazed at him. Amazing eyes, she thought idly, with even more amazing lashes—long, dark and thick. And there was a certain arrogance about him. She should find it a complete turn-off, especially considering that Robbie had had his fair share of arrogance, and what a creep he had turned out to be. But Adonis’s arrogance was somehow different… Just look at the way he had stuck his feet on that chair.

‘No…’ she admitted. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, money is great. I wish I had more of it.’ Especially considering I have no job to return to. ‘But I was brought up to believe that there were more important things in life. My parents died in a car accident when I was eight and my grandmother raised me. Well, there wasn’t an awful lot of money to go round, but that never bothered me. I think people create the lives they want to live and they do that without the help of money…’

She sighed. ‘Stop me if I’m talking too much. I do that. But, now that I know you’re not a burglar, it’s kind of nice having someone here. I mean, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning, but… Okay, enough of me… Is this the first time you’ve worked for the Ramos family? I mean, I couldn’t help noticing that you called them by their first names…’

Lucas thought of Alberto and Julia Ramos and choked back a snort of derisive laughter at the thought of working for them. In actual fact, Alberto had worked for his father. Lucas had inherited him when his father had died and, because of the personal connection, had resisted sacking the man, who was borderline incompetent. He found them intensely annoying but his mother was godmother to one of their children.

‘We go back a way,’ he said, skirting round the truth.

‘Thought so.’

‘Why is that?’

Milly laughed and it felt as though this was the first time she had laughed, really laughed, for a long time. Well, at least two weeks, although there had been a moment or two with her friends post-traumatic break-up. Manic, desperate laughter, probably…

‘Because you’ve got your feet on the chair and you’ve just dumped that empty bottle on the kitchen counter! Sandra told me that under no circumstances was there to be any sign that I’d stepped foot in this lodge when I left. I might even have to wipe all the surfaces just in case they find my fingerprints somewhere.’

‘You have a wonderful laugh,’ Lucas heard himself say with some surprise. She did. A rich, full-bodied laugh that made him want to grin.

And looking at her…

That first impression of someone small and plump with crazy hair was being rapidly dispelled. She was small, yes, barely skimming five-four, but her skin was satiny smooth and her eyes were the clearest blue he had ever seen. And when she laughed she had dimples.

Milly went bright red. In the aftermath of her horrible, horrible broken engagement, her self-confidence had been severely battered, and his compliment filled her with a terrific sense of wellbeing. Even if he had only complimented her on the way she laughed, which, when you analysed it, was hardly a compliment at all. But, still, coming from Adonis…

‘Must be great being a ski instructor,’ she said, all hot and bothered now. ‘Would you like to know something? I mean, it’s no big secret or anything…’

‘I would love to know something…even if it’s no big secret or anything…’ Hell, this impromptu break was certainly proving to be a great distraction in ways he had never anticipated.

‘I used to ski—I mean really ski. I went on a school trip when I was ten and somehow I took to it. When I was fifteen, I even thought I might try and go pro, but you know… We didn’t have the money for that sort of thing. But it’s why I was looking forward to this job…’

Her situation hit her like a blast of cold air: no fiancé, no job, no two weeks’ chalet income with the bonus of skiing now and again. She shook away her sudden despondency, which wasn’t going to get her anywhere. ‘Frankly, it’s why Sandra employed me in the first place when there were other better looking girls lining up for the job.’ That and my low levels of physical attractiveness. ‘I thought I might be able to sneak a little skiing in, but now… Oh, well, that’s life, I guess. My luck’s been crap recently so I don’t know why I’m surprised this fell through.’

She smiled, digging deep to recover some of her sunny nature. ‘Hey, I don’t even know your name! I’m Amelia, but my friends call me Milly.’ She held out her hand, and the feel of his cool fingers as he shook it sent a wave of dizzying electric charge straight through her body, from her toes to the top of her head.

‘And I am…Lucas.’ So she thought he was a ski instructor. How frankly refreshing to be in the company of a woman who didn’t know his worth, who didn’t simper, who wasn’t out to try and trap him. ‘And I think we might just be able to solve the matter of your lost job…’

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS A spur-of-the-moment decision for Lucas, but whoever said that he wasn’t a man who could think creatively on his feet? How many times had he won deals because he had approached them from a different angle; played with a situation, found the loopholes, cracks and crevices and exploited them to his own benefit? It was the crucial difference between moderate success and soaring the heights. He had been bred with confidence and it had never once occurred to him that he might not be able to get exactly what he wanted.

Right now, he had made the snap decision that he might enjoy the woman’s company on the slopes for a few days.

She obviously wasn’t the type he normally went for. His diet was tall, thin, leggy brunettes from social backgrounds very similar to his own—because there was nothing worse than a tawdry gold-digger—but she had a certain something…

Just at this minute she was gaping at him as though he had taken leave of his senses.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Milly could scarcely believe her ears. In fact, she was on the way to convincing herself that she was trapped with a madman. He might be well in with the Ramos family if he happened to be their personal ski instructor, but how much influence did ski instructors have anyway? It wasn’t as though they weren’t disposable.

‘But first, food.’

‘Food?’

‘I actually came to the kitchen to grab myself something to eat.’ Originally he had toyed with the idea of just importing a chef from one of the hotels, the regular chef he was accustomed to using whenever he happened to be at the lodge, but in the end it had hardly seemed worth the effort when he hadn’t planned to stay longer than a couple of nights. And when he knew for a fact that the fridge would be brimming over with food in preparation for the non-appearing Ramos family.

‘You came here to grab something to eat? Are you completely crazy? You can’t just go rummaging around in their fridge, eating their food and drinking their wine. Have you taken a look at the bottles in that wine rack? They look as though they cost the earth!’

Lucas was already heading for the fridge.

‘Bread…’ He opened the fridge door and turned to look at her. ‘Cheese… Both in plentiful supply. And I’m pretty sure there’ll be some salad stuff somewhere.’

Milly sprang to her feet. ‘I can, er, cook you something if you like…if you’re sure. After all, cooking was to be part of my duties.’

Lucas looked at her and smiled and that electric charge zipped through her again. It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning.

Had Robbie the creep ever had this effect on her? She didn’t think so, but then again disillusionment might have put a different spin on her memories of their somewhat brief courtship.

She and Robbie had attended the same small school in remote Scotland until they were fourteen, at which point grander things had beckoned and he had moved with his family down to London. At fourteen, gauche and way too sporty to appeal to teenage boys whose testosterone levels were kicking in, she had had a secret crush on him.

They had kept in touch over the years, mostly via social network with the occasional visit thrown in whenever he’d happened to be in the city, but his sudden interest in her had only really kicked off six months ago and it had been whirlwind. Milly, still finding her feet in her job, had been first pleased to see a familiar face and then flattered when that familiar face had started take an interest in her. Ha! The reason for that had become patently clear after he had dumped her for leggy Emily.

Lucas had slammed shut the fridge in favour of opening a bottle of the expensive wine from the wine rack, much to Milly’s consternation.

So, women cooking for him had never been part of the deal; tinkering in the kitchen smacked of just the sort of cosy domesticity he had never encouraged. On the other hand, this was a unique situation.

‘I’m actually a chef by profession.’ Milly grinned and joined him by the fridge, the contents of which she proceeded to inspect, although she made sure not to remove anything. She could practically feel Skipper Sandra peering down at her, about to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing.

‘Would-be professional skier, chef… Is there no end to your talents?’

‘You’re teasing me.’ Their eyes met and she blushed. ‘I still don’t feel entirely comfortable digging in their cupboards but I suppose we do have to eat. I mean, I’m sure Sandra wouldn’t expect me to starve…’

‘This Sandra character sounds like a despot.’ Lucas removed himself from her way as she began extracting bits and pieces. He had no idea what she intended to do with the stuff. He himself had zero interest in cooking and had never really seen fit to do much more than toast a slice of bread or, in dire circumstances, open a can of something and put it in a saucepan.

‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’ She began hunting down utensils whilst reminding him, just in case he reported back that she had made herself at home, that she still didn’t feel 100 percent good about using stuff from their fridge. ‘Want to help?’ She glanced over her shoulder to where he was lounging indolently against the kitchen counter with a glass of red wine in his hand.

Talk about making himself at home!

‘I’m more of a spectator when it comes to cooking,’ Lucas told her. And from where he was standing, the view was second to none. She had removed her thick jumper and was down to a clingy long-sleeved T-shirt that outlined every inch of a body that had been woefully kept under wraps.

‘We’ll eat quicker if you help.’

‘I’m in no hurry. You were about to tell me about Sandra the despot…’

‘I had to have three interviews for this job. Can you believe it? Three! The Ramoses are just about the fussiest people on the planet. Oh, sorry; I forgot that you’re their regular ski instructor. You probably see a different side to them.’ She sighed, her throat suddenly thick as she thought of the neatly packaged life she had been looking forward to flying through the window.

And yet, in a strange way, she was sure that she should be feeling sadder than she actually was.

Mortified, yes. She was about eleven out of ten on the mortification scale, although less so here where her well-meaning friends weren’t hovering around her, hankies at the ready, as though she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

But sad?

The presents had all been returned; the dress had been sold online because the shop had refused to have it back; the small church in Sunningdale where his parents had lived ever since they had moved from Scotland had been cancelled. But she didn’t get a lump in her throat when she thought about the details.

The lump came when she thought about the fairy-tale future she had had planned, when she thought about being in love and then being let down…

‘I doubt that.’ Lucas recalled the last time he had seen the couple at his mother’s house in Argentina, where Julia Ramos had spent most of the evening lording it over anyone she thought might be a lesser mortal.

Despite being wealthy beyond most people’s wildest dreams, his mother had a very solid streak of normality in her and frequently hosted parties to which all and sundry were invited, regardless of their income or status. She had never forgotten that both she and his father had come from nothing and had made their fortune through hard graft.

‘There aren’t many complex sides to Alberto and Julia Ramos. They have money and they insist on showing the world, whether the world wants to know or not.’

‘Poor you.’ Milly looked at him sympathetically. ‘I guess it must become a bit of a drag if you’re having to deal with people you don’t especially like…’ She returned to her chopping and he dragged one of the bar stools over so that he could see her as she worked. By now, she had given up on being appalled at the liberties he took. Perhaps that was the relationship he had with his employers. Less of an employee and more of an equal.

‘But,’ she continued as she tried to focus on the onions in front of her and ignore the fact that his dark eyes roving over her were making her feel a bit dizzy, ‘we all have to do stuff we don’t particularly like for the sake of earning a living. What do you do when you’re not instructing?’

‘This and that.’

Milly didn’t say anything. Maybe he was embarrassed because being a ski instructor might be glamorous but it was hardly a ladder-climbing job, and she wasn’t sure why, but Lucas struck her as the kind of guy to have ambition.

‘Why are you doing a two-week stint as a chalet girl when you’re a professional chef? You’re not drinking your wine. You should. It’s an excellent vintage.’

‘I hope you don’t get into trouble opening that bottle…’ But the cooking was now done so she wiped her hands on one of the towels by the range, took the proffered glass of wine and followed him out of the kitchen and into the sprawling sitting area, where, through the vast panes of glass, they could see the spectacular sight of night settling on the snowy mountain ranges.

‘I never get into trouble,’ Lucas assured her as he joined her on the sofa. The white sofa. The white sofa that she would probably have to pay for if she made the mistake of spilling her red wine on it.

She perched awkwardly on the edge and made very sure to keep a firm hand on the stem of her wine glass.

‘You never get into trouble…ever? That’s a very arrogant thing to say!’ But strangely thrilling.

‘I confess that I can be arrogant,’ Lucas told her truthfully, eyes steady on her face as he sipped his wine.

‘That’s an awful trait.’

‘Deplorable. Have you got any?’

‘Any what?’ Her glass appeared to be empty. How had that happened?

‘Deplorable traits.’ Not red, he decided; her hair was not red…more a deep, rich auburn with streaks of lighter auburn running through it.

‘I tend to fall for creeps. In fact, you could say that I specialise in that. I went out with boyfriend number one three years ago for three months. Turned out he had a girlfriend, who happened to be doing a gap year leaving him free to play the field while she was away…’

‘The world is full of creeps,’ Lucas murmured. He himself always made it very clear to the women he dated that rocks on fingers were never going be part of the game. If, at any point, they got it into their heads that they could alter that situation, then they were very sharply brought up to date with his ground rules.

‘You’re not kidding.’

‘And boyfriend number two?’

‘Boyfriend number two was actually my fiancé.’ She stared at her empty glass, wondering whether she dared risk another drink. She wouldn’t want to face the trip back to London on a hangover. She sneaked a glance at Lucas, who was reclining on the leather sofa, utterly and completely comfortable in his surroundings.

‘Fiancé?’

Milly stuck her hand out for inspection. ‘What do you see?’

Lucas shifted position, leaned forward and looked. ‘An extremely attractive hand.’ He glanced up at her and was charmed by the dainty colour in her cheeks.

‘It’s a hand without an engagement ring,’ she said mournfully. ‘Right now, at this precise moment in time, I should actually be a married woman.’

‘Ah…’