a lot to learn, and she had made him impatient to fill in the gaps.
There would always be hitches, Stacey accepted as she continued with her duties. Solving those hitches was half the fun of the job. It pleased her to find answers, and to make people happy. And not just because Señor Iron Britches was in the room, though Luc rocked her world and made her body yearn each time their stares clashed. Formal wear suited him. Emphasising his height and the width of his shoulders, it gilded the darkly glittering glamour he was famous for. Though Luc looked just as good in a pair of banged-up jeans…or those shots of him in polo magazines wearing tight-fitting breeches… Better not think about tight-fitting breeches, or she wouldn’t get any work done. She had better things to do than admire a client’s butt.
In her defence, not every client had a butt like Lucas Da Silva.
SHE WASN’T GETTING away from him this time. He stepped in front of Stacey the first time their paths crossed. ‘Señorita Winner, I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.’
She looked at him wide-eyed. ‘Why would I do that?’
Her manner was as direct as ever, and held nothing more than professional interest. Opening her arms wide, she explained, ‘Forgive me. We’ve been very busy tonight, but I hope you’re pleased with what we’ve achieved so far?’
‘I am pleased,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve dealt with some difficult guests, defusing situations that could have disrupted other people’s enjoyment of the evening.’
Stacey shrugged. ‘I want everyone to enjoy themselves whoever they are. We all have different expectations.’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed, staring deep into her eyes.
She searched his as if expecting to find mockery there, and, finding none, she smiled. ‘Anyway, thank you for the compliment. I’ll accept it on behalf of the team. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have one more thing to check before the banquet begins.’
‘Which is?’ he queried.
‘I want to make sure that no one else has swapped around their place card to sit closer to you.’
He laughed. ‘Am I so much in demand?’
‘You know you are,’ she said with one of her classic withering looks.
‘But not with you, I take it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.
‘Forget it.’ He made her a mock bow. ‘And thank you for protecting me.’
‘My pleasure,’ she assured him, on the point of hurrying away.
‘So, where am I sitting?’ he asked to keep her close a little longer.
‘Next to me.’ She held his surprised stare in an amused look of her own. ‘I thought you’d like that. You don’t have a companion tonight, and I’ve seated the princess on your other side. I’ll be on hand to run errands.’
‘You? Run errands?’ he queried suspiciously.
‘Yes. Like a PA, or an assistant,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
‘And you don’t mind that?’
‘Why should I? I’m here to work. If you’d rather I sat somewhere else—’
‘No,’ he said so fast he startled both of them. ‘I’m happy with the arrangements as they are.’
‘Then…’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’
‘Of course,’ he said with a slight dip of his head. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’
She didn’t see Lucas again until everyone was seated for the banquet and she finally took her place beside him. ‘I was only joking about sitting down,’ she explained as a waiter settled a napkin on her lap with a flourish. ‘I wasn’t sure if you had someone in mind to take this place, and now I don’t want to leave an empty seat beside you.’
‘That wouldn’t look good,’ Luc agreed. ‘Is that the only reason you came to sit next to me?’ He gave her a long, sideways look.
‘I can’t think of any other reason,’ she said, though she knew she had to broach the subject of Lady Sarah’s leave of absence.
‘You impressed me tonight.’
‘You mean the team impressed you tonight,’ she prompted.
‘I mean you.’
Luc’s tone was soft and husky and he held her gaze several beats too long. She took advantage of the moment to ask him, ‘Does that mean the next contract’s secure?’
He frowned. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me?’
He’d already heard, she guessed. Lucas hadn’t climbed the greasy pole of success without doing his research. She guessed he’d brought up her CV to check on her rise through the company, and would know the latest news on Party Planners, including the fact that Lady Sarah was ill. If she knew anything at all about Lucas Da Silva, she was prepared to bet he was on the case. ‘Only that Lady Sarah is unwell and has asked me to run this function as well as the next for you. Do you have a problem with that?’
‘A problem?’ Luc dipped his chin to fix her with a questioning stare.
‘The team has turned itself inside out for you, and will happily do so again.’
‘And I will thank them,’ he said.
‘But?’
‘You want assurances here and now?’
Before she could answer, a member of her team made a discreet gesture that would take Stacey away from the table. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.’
‘You’re not even going to stay long enough to test the food?’
‘I trust your chefs.’
‘That’s very good of you,’ Lucas commented dryly.
‘I trust you,’ she said, touching his arm to drive the point home.
Immediately, she wished she hadn’t done that. It was as if she’d plugged her hand into an electric socket. Her fingers were actually tingling. What she should be asking herself was whether Lucas would trust her enough to let her run an event as important to his company as the annual escape to the mountains. To make matters worse, it now seemed their old connection was as strong as ever, and she couldn’t resist teasing him before leaving the table. ‘Would you like me to deliver the happy news to one of the placecard-swapping starlets that a seat has become available next to their host?’
‘You’ll do no such—!’
Damn the woman! She’d gone! And with a smile on her mouth that promised she could still give as good as she got. This was like being back on the farm, where for every trick Stacey played on him he paid her back. His hackles were bristling. And his groin was in torment. He huffed a humourless laugh. Perhaps he deserved this, deserved the demon glint in her eyes, deserved Stacey.
He was still mulling this over when a young woman he vaguely recognised from the polo circuit approached the empty seat next to him, and, with what she must have imagined was a winsome expression on her avaricious face, commented, ‘You look lonely.’
‘Do I?’ Standing as good manners demanded, he waited until