Playboy's Lesson (12 page)

He sat upright so quickly his face drained of what little colour remained. Lottie saw him sway as if his centre of balance was skewed. But then he threw back the sheet and stumbled towards the bathroom, banging his shoulder painfully against the doorjamb as he went. He didn’t have time to close the door to protect his privacy. He hunched over the nearest basin and was violently, wretchedly sick.

Every compassionate muscle of Lottie’s heart contracted. She joined him in the bathroom, grabbing a fresh hand towel from the rack and rinsed it under the tap before squeezing it out and handing it to him.

He pressed his face into it for a moment, his body still shaking with fever. ‘Go.’

‘I’m not going till I call a doctor.’

He dropped the towel in the vague direction of the bathtub. ‘I meant to my appointment. You’ll have to bid for me.’

Lottie scrunched up her forehead in confusion. ‘Bid for you?’

He gripped the edge of the basin for balance as he looked at her through wincing eyes. ‘I want to bid on a miniature painting. It’s never been auctioned before. It’s come from a private collection. The auction is at noon.’

‘But I’ve never been to an auction before. I wouldn’t know the first thing about—’

‘Please.’ His tone brooked no resistance. It was as if he had summoned the last remnants of his energy to convince her. ‘I
want
that painting. It’s the only one of its kind.’

She chewed at her lip. ‘Do you have a budget in mind?’

* * *

Lottie had never felt more pleased with herself. She had not only got out of the hotel undetected by the press—thanks to the aid of a senior staff member, Jean Rene, who set up a decoy—but she got to the auction, which was being held in a private villa and managed to outbid the highest offer. The exquisite painting was no bigger than a brooch and was of the mistress of a duke from the seventeenth century. Back and forth the bidding went until it was finally down to her and a man in his sixties who eventually caved in, shaking his head in defeat as the auctioneer brought the gavel down. ‘Sold to the young lady in pink at the back.’

Lottie got back to the hotel, again without detection, and dashed up to Lucca’s suite as if she were bringing the crown jewels. ‘I got it! I won the final bid. I—’ She stopped and looked at the sleeping form of Lucca lying on the bed.

She put the painting down, along with the other three she’d bought, and went over to the bed. He was lying on his stomach with just a cotton sheet covering him from the hips down. She could see the outline of his splayed legs, one hitched a little higher than the other, the taut curve of his buttocks making something in her belly feel wobbly.

She reached out and gently brushed the damp hair back off his forehead. He didn’t seem to register the contact. His breathing was deep and even, his mouth relaxed in sleep.

She waited a moment and then trailed her fingers down his cheek to see if his stubble was as prickly as it looked. It was. It scraped against the pads of her fingertips like sandpaper, making her insides give another little quiver.

She curled her fingers into a ball to stop them exploring any further and moved away from the bed. She let out a sigh as she looked at the chaos of the suite. She could call housekeeping but that would mean disturbing him. She could just as easily grab fresh towels and sheets from one of the housemaids and do a quiet tidy up and keep an eye on him while she was at it.

She gathered up the balls of paper and placed them in the wastepaper basket. But then her curiosity got the better of her and she bent down and took one out again and unfurled it. It was a rough sketch of one of the villas they had walked by the previous day.

She picked up another ball of paper and found another sketch of one of the cafés on the harbourfront. She knitted her brows as she took out yet another ball of paper. Each unfinished sketch seemed to tell her more and more about Lucca rather than the sketch itself. It was like peeling back the layers of an onion to find a treasure buried inside. She had never thought of him as an artist, and a remarkably talented one at that. The sketches might be rough but she knew enough about art to know he knew what he was doing with each stroke of the pencil against the paper. The detail and perspective were amazing. It was as if he was looking at the world with an intense focus, narrowed down to a minute degree to capture the hidden secrets of his subject.

But there was one more drawing.

Not scrunched up in a discarded ball on the floor, but on a sketchpad on the walnut desk over by the window. The pencil he had been using was lying crosswise on the pad, and an eraser was next to it surrounded by little rubber shavings. The antique chair was pushed back at a skewed angle as if he had got up in a hurry and hadn’t had time to straighten it.

Lottie looked down at the drawing, her heart doing a little skip of recognition when she saw an image of herself picking flowers in the palace gardens. It was a work in progress, but even so, Lucca had captured something about that frozen moment in time, built it into a story that made her look ethereal, even beautiful.

She had posed for official portraits before and had hated the stiff, formal results. She had always looked stuck-up and starchy.

No one had captured
her
.

She glanced at the bed. He was still soundly asleep, his chest rising and falling in slow deep breaths. Something prickly and tight in her chest loosened. Smoothed out. Flowed.

Escaped.

Lottie drew in a ragged breath and moved away from the desk. She set about briskly putting the rest of the suite to order. Work was a great panacea for wild imaginings that should not be allowed free.
Ever
. She was
not
to think of Lucca Chatsfield as anything other than an outrageous flirt, a layabout libertine who was only here to make trouble for her because that’s what he did best. He courted trouble. He relished in it. The press documented it in colourful, lurid detail.

He was one big flashing human headline.

He wasn’t the sort of man she should be thinking about. He certainly wasn’t the sort of man she should be kissing, or touching, or sharing a continent with, let alone a penthouse suite, even if it had a hundred separate rooms.

And he definitely wasn’t the sort of man she should be fantasising about making love with, even though her body reacted to him like a magnet to metal.

Even now her gaze was drawn to him. He had rolled onto his back and the sheet had dipped lower, revealing a tantalising trail of black hair that arrowed down from his belly button. His abdomen was superbly defined, gorgeously lean and tautly muscled.

She swallowed as his hand absently started scratching at his lower stomach. She felt like a voyeur, getting off on watching him. Was there a man alive who looked more outrageously delicious? He had been wearing dark blue underpants when she’d found him earlier but she suspected he was naked now because she’d found a pair of underpants in the shower stall along with a used towel. She could see the contour of his penis, the way it seemed to swell before her eyes, as if he were dreaming of something richly erotic.

His hand went lower and Lottie abruptly cleared her throat, her face so hot it felt like it was on fire. ‘Ahem. You’ve got company. Might want to keep that for when you’re alone.’

His eyes opened and he blinked a couple of times as if trying to place her. ‘Lottie?’

‘At your service—I mean, not in
that
sense.’ She waved her hands about the room, her blush deepening. ‘I was just tidying up...a bit....’

He propped himself up on one elbow, his brow frowning. ‘Did you get the painting?’

‘I did.’ She brandished it proudly. ‘I had a ball—er, I mean, heaps of fun.’
What was wrong with her mind that it kept sinking into the gutter?

‘Good girl.’ He lay back down with a sigh and closed his eyes again.

She gnawed at her lip for a moment. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Marvellous.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘Thanks. Appreciate it.’

‘I mean, your colour’s not right.’ Lottie tentatively approached the bed. ‘Have you had anything to eat or drink?’

‘No.’

‘What about if I get you something? Some light broth or one of those rehydrating drinks. I could call up room service if you—’

He cracked open one eye and gave her a wry look. ‘Might as well tip it straight down the toilet and cut out the middleman.’

‘That bad, huh?’

‘Get me an eye of a needle and I’ll prove it.’

She winced in sympathy. ‘It’s okay, I get the picture.’

There was a little silence.

‘Thanks for getting the painting for me.’

Lottie felt a warm glow come over her. ‘It was heaps of fun. There was this old guy there who was pretty determined to outbid me. I dug my heels in. I didn’t care how much I had to pay, I was
not
leaving without that painting. It was such an adrenaline rush when it was over. I felt like I’d won a race or something. Can you get an endorphin rush from an auction, do you think?’

He gave her another one-eyed look. ‘How much
did
you pay for it?’

‘Um...’ She pulled at her lower lip again. ‘I can chip in if you think I overdid it.’

His mouth came up in a weak half-smile. ‘I’m sure I can manage it. I’m a filthy-rich playboy, remember?’

Lottie gave him a sheepish look. ‘About what I said yesterday...’

‘I deserved it.’ His gaze went to her mouth, his smile fading as his frown returned. ‘How’s your lip?’

She touched the tiny spot with the tip of her tongue. ‘It’s fine. I should use lip balm more often. Madeleine is always nagging me about taking better care of myself.’

His eyes meshed with hers, searchingly, as if he was trying to solve a mystery inside her gaze. ‘I like that pink outfit you’re wearing.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Why do you dress in such drab gear all the time?’

Lottie looked down at her hands, rubbing her finger over her bitten-down thumbnail in a circular pattern. ‘It’s a habit I got into. A way of giving everyone the finger about their criticisms of me.’

‘The press?’

‘Yes. And the public.’ She met his dark gaze again. ‘I’ve never been the picture-perfect princess like Madeleine. I don’t think anyone’s ever taken a bad photo of her. Every time there’s a camera around I freeze. I feel awkward. I stiffen up. I can’t act natural when I know someone’s looking at me. And of course the press love those caught-off-guard shots without make-up or sweaty from the gym...or stumbling out of a helicopter looking green.’

‘So you don’t play ball rather than try hard and then get criticised for it.’

She saw something in his gaze she had never seen there before. Kindness. Understanding. She let out a slow breath and another notch of tightness in her chest loosened. ‘That boyfriend I told you about? It kind of started with that.’

His frown shadowed his eyes. ‘
He
criticised you?’

‘Not like that as such.’ She picked at a rough edge on what was left of her fingernail. ‘He took photos of me. Of us...when we were...you know...’

‘And you didn’t know about it?’

She looked at him again. ‘Not until I saw them on his phone. He’d set it up on remote control. I was horrified. It was like a nightmare I’d stumbled into. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. He’d shared the photos with some of his friends. Luckily my father was able to pull some strings to stop the images going viral. You can imagine the scandal it would have caused.’

His frown was so deep it made him look ten years older. ‘So you’ve pushed everyone away ever since?’

Lottie got to her feet and smoothed her skirt down over her thighs. She
never
talked about this stuff. To anyone.
Ever
. Why was she spilling all to Lucca Chatsfield, of all people? He’d had his latest bedroom antics splashed over the London tabloids the week before. He probably had an archive full of juicy boudoir shots. ‘I should let you rest. I’ve cancelled our flight back. I think we should wait and see how you’re feeling in the morning. Are you sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?’

‘No, it’s just a virus. Hope you don’t catch it.’ He lay back with a weary sigh. ‘I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.’

There was another silence.

‘I saw the picture you drew of me.’

He didn’t open his eyes but she thought she saw his body tense momentarily. ‘It’s just a doodle.’

‘I didn’t know you could draw like that.’

He made a dismissive sound.

‘You’re really talented, Lucca.
Really
talented.’

He opened that one dark satirical eye again. ‘So if I asked you to come and see my etchings you’d come in a flash?’

Lottie gave him a prim look to disguise the track her mind was taking at his double entendre. ‘I might appear naive but even I wouldn’t fall for that hackneyed line.’

He gave her a rueful smile that had a tilt of sadness to it. ‘You’re a nice kid, little princess. You should stay away from bad boys like me.’

She put on a confident smile that took far more effort than it should. ‘I intend to.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

LUCCA WOKE TO a raging thirst. He reached for the lamp switch, grimacing as the sweat-soaked sheets clung to his body like plastic wrap. He raked a hand through the stickiness of his hair and gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His stomach gave a gurgle like a drain but that was as far as it went. Thank God and all his minions.

After a shower and a shave he felt marginally better. Not well enough to face food but a glass of water went down and stayed down, which was saying something.

He picked up his phone and checked out the newsfeed. It was laughably ironic that every paper was carrying the story of him holed up in the Chatsfield Monte Carlo with Princess Charlotte in a love-in.

Seasoned Playboy Spends Second Night with Prim and Proper Princess.
Is This the End of the King of One-Night Stands?
Could Wedding Bells Ring Twice for Preitalle Royals?
He switched off the screen in irritation. What was it with these people? Who made this stuff up? Did they seriously collect a wage for such drivel? He hadn’t even slept with Lottie.

She was not the sort of girl to have a casual fling. She’d already been exploited in the most appalling way. His insides twisted to think of how she must have felt to have her most private intimate moments exposed in such a sleazy way. He was pretty laid-back when it came to issues of modesty, but even so, any photos taken were with the consent of his partner at the time. He might be a little promiscuous but he still had
some
standards.

He picked up the drawing he’d started of her. He had to admit it was a good likeness. He’d captured that otherworldly look she had about her. It would look even better once he put some colour to it. That was the part he enjoyed the most, the detail going into a subject, the layers of meaning that each tiny brushstroke laid down.

There was a light rap on the connecting door. ‘Lucca? Are you decent?’

Good question
, he thought. He hadn’t felt decent in a very long time. Maybe never. He opened the door to find Lottie looking up at him with those clear big green eyes sans glasses. Was she wearing contacts? Her eyes looked particularly bright. In fact, all of her looked particularly bright. She was dressed in a sundress with bright yellow daisies on it, a wide white patent-leather belt cinched around her waist. Her hair was loosely tied behind her head with a matching yellow silk bow. She looked fresh and young and...decent. He felt like someone had sucked the air out of his lungs. He couldn’t find his voice for a moment. ‘Wow.’

Her eyes sparkled. ‘Do you like it?’ She turned in a full circle and the skirt of the dress lifted just enough to give him a tantalising glimpse of her pretty knees and slim thighs. ‘I went shopping yesterday. There was this really helpful stylist at a boutique who showed me how to put stuff together. I maxed out my credit card. Actually, it was the paintings that did that.’

‘Paintings?’

Her look was sheepish. ‘I bought another three at the auction. I couldn’t resist them. I’d never seen a miniature landscape painting up close before. Do you realise the incredible detail that goes into them? They look like a normal painting only smaller but when you look at them with a magnifying glass you see the amazing detail....’ Her voice trailed off and her cheeks coloured up. ‘But I guess you already know that.’

Lucca couldn’t resist brushing a finger down the slope of her cheek. ‘Are you always this bright and chirpy first thing in the morning?’

Her small white teeth momentarily sank into the pillow of her lower lip. His eyes went to the tiny spot where his mouth had bruised her and his chest flinched as if someone had just kicked his heart with a work-booted foot. ‘Sorry, it’s just I haven’t felt this excited in a long time. I have my very own art collection. Of course, three paintings isn’t much, but it’s a start. Do you know of any other auctions I could attend?’

Lucca smiled at her fresh-faced enthusiasm. Smiled and yet felt that twinge of sadness he’d felt the evening before. She was so young, still a little naive. There were sharks out there that would circle her and gobble her up in a heartbeat. Only forty-eight hours ago he had been one of them. ‘Sure. I’ll email you some links.’

Her eyes drifted away from his. ‘The papers are saying a heap of ridiculous stuff about us.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’ll have to work extra hard to get my reputation back in the sewer where it belongs.’

Her lips twitched as if she were holding back a smile. ‘It’s funny in a way. What they’re saying.’

‘Hilarious.’

Her smile broke free along with a little giggle that sounded like a tinkling bell. He had never heard her laugh before. He had never seen her dimples before either. They made her look adorably cute. ‘I thought I’d be appalled but in a way I’m enjoying it,’ she said. ‘They think we’ve been up here swinging from the chandeliers when in fact I’ve been playing nursemaid and housekeeper. If only they knew.’

‘I’m glad you’ve found the irony of the situation so vastly entertaining.’

Her eyes danced with what suspiciously looked like mischief. ‘Apparently we’re the new “it” couple. Madeleine called me to tell me my popularity rating is through the roof.’

Lucca frowned. ‘You’re not worried about your reputation being besmirched by being associated with me?’

She gave a little up-and-down movement of her shoulders. ‘I’ve decided to get over myself. I’ve been hiding away for the past five years because some guy was a jerk. By staying locked away I’m letting him win. I’ve decided to come out. I want to party and who better to teach me how to do it than you?’

He held up his hands. ‘Uh-uh, I’m not going there.’

She gave a little pout that did crazy things to his heartstrings. ‘Oh, come on, Lucca. You do nothing
but
party. You’d be the best one to show me how to have a good time.’

Lucca found himself in the unfamiliar role of responsible adult. ‘Listen, sweetheart, I’m not sure you’re ready for the party scene. It’s a jungle out there. You could get into all sorts of trouble.’

She smiled at him with a knockout sparkly smile. ‘But not if I have you as my bodyguard.’

* * *

After talking to Lucca about her disastrous love affair Lottie felt a weight come off her shoulders like throwing off a heavy suit of armour. She didn’t like admitting it but he had been right. She
had
been acting like a coward. Scared of life. Scared of stepping out of her rigid routine in case life threw up something she couldn’t handle. How would she know if she could handle stuff if she didn’t even try?

She had gone back to the dungeon and survived, hadn’t she?

She had flown in a helicopter again and survived.

It was time to reclaim her life. She didn’t care what the papers said. She was going to have a good time doing all the things girls her age would do. Dancing, drinking delicious cocktails, flirting with handsome men, kicking up her heels and feeling normal.

Lucca proved to be as wonderful an escort as he had been listener the night before. He hired a top model sports car and drove her down to Nice where they had dinner in a fabulous restaurant overlooking the beautiful turquoise blue of the water and the startling-white sand of the beach.

After dinner he took her to a nightclub owned by a friend of his. The music was loud and the patrons hip and übersophisticated, but after her second champagne cocktail she felt herself loosening up a tiny bit. But while Lucca went to the bathroom, his friend the barman insisted on her having a vodka chaser ‘on the house.’ Worried she might offend him by refusing, especially since he was Lucca’s friend, she politely drank it.

It was like drinking a magic potion, an instant cure for introversion. The potent brew flooded her system, giving her a boost of confidence and gaiety. There would be no wilting daisy petals tonight. No way. She was ready to stand up and
party
!

She grabbed Lucca’s hand as soon as he got back and pulled him towards the dance floor. ‘Come on. Let’s dance.’

His expression was more in line with an elderly guardian than a promiscuous fun-loving playboy. ‘Do you think you should’ve had that last drink?’

Lottie couldn’t remember feeling so deliciously relaxed. She hadn’t had so much fun in ages. Probably ever. Her limbs felt all squishy and melting, and her usual inhibitions about dancing in public had completely disappeared. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport. I’m supposed to be letting my hair down. Why are you acting so headmasterish all of a sudden?’

He rolled his eyes and allowed her to tug him to the cluster of gyrating bodies. ‘One dance and then I’m taking you home to bed.’

She swayed on her feet and tried to focus on one of the two of him that had appeared in front of her gaze. She couldn’t work out if it was because she wasn’t wearing her glasses or the third drink she’d had. Maybe a bit of both. ‘Ooo, that sounds like
glooorious
fun. Do you really mean it?’

His brows snapped together in a frown. ‘You’re drunk.’

She tiptoed two of her fingers from his sternum up to his chin but her fingers weren’t travelling in a straight line. ‘Do you think I wouldn’t want you if I wasn’t a leetle teeny bit tipsy?’

He captured her fingers before they could get to his mouth. ‘I’m not sleeping with you, Lottie. Drunk or sober.’

She made a little moue with her mouth. ‘I know you want me. That day we kissed—’

‘Was a mistake that won’t be repeated,’ he said in a clipped tone.

‘I liked you being rough with me.’ She pressed up against him brazenly. ‘It made me go all fizzy inside. I’ve never felt like that before. I thought I was going to come on the spot.’

‘Will you
shut up
, for God’s sake?’ His expression had gone from stern to exasperated.

Lottie giggled and wriggled her hips against him again. ‘I’ve never done it with a partner. Come, I mean. I’ve only pretended. I’m really good at it. I bet you couldn’t tell the difference. Do you want to hear me?’