The Real Romero(12)

                ‘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...’

                ‘Instead, here I am, drinking wine that doesn’t belong to me—which the Ramos family will probably discover and report back to Sandra the despot—and pouring my heart out to a complete stranger.’