Lissa was worried and angry and she burst out furiously: 'Why do you go on living like that? Drifting around from casino to casino, winning and losing money day after day. It's degrading!'
'I only gamble in the summer,' he said with wicked amusement. 'The rest of the year I risk my life in London traffic.'
She frowned. 'What?'
He was mocking her. 'I suppose it's another form of gambling, really.'
'What are you talking about?'
'My job,' he said, and Lissa's mouth opened on a surprised intake of air.
Luc laughed again. 'Close your mouth. Are you catching flies? Out here you might catch something much nastier.'
'Job?' she repeated huskily.
'Nasty word, isn't it?' he said. 'I try to keep it quiet It only confuses people.'
'You work?'
His laughter deepened and he bent a wicked eye on her. 'Alas, yes.'
'What at?' she asked, unable to believe he meant it.
'What a narrow-minded girl you are!' he drawled. 'I work in a London office for nine months of the year, actually.'
'Doing what?' Lissa regarded him incredulously.
'Gambling,' he mocked, grinning.
Lissa's teeth set. 'I don't believe you!' He was making fun of her. She turned to go and he caught her arm, his fingers folding softly round her elbow, not hurting yet making it impossible for her to move away.
'I work with the Stock Exchange,' he explained.
'The London Stock Exchange?'
'That's right, I gamble on market fluctuations, I'm good at it, I make a lot of money. It calls for the same skills as poker. You have to have intuition, a gut feeling that some stock is about to move up or down, and the nerve to back your judgment with hard cash. In the last resort, that's what all gambling comes to-nerve and a clear head.' He paused, eyeing her. 'That's why your fiancé should stay away from it. He has the nerve and the desire to win, but he doesn't have the head for it.'
. Lissa looked at the hard, assertive face and swallowed. 'Don't play with him again!' The fear she was feeling was inexplicable. All her instincts cried out that for Chris to play against Luc Ferrier was dangerous. She couldn't say why she should feel that. It was an unconscious reaction deep inside her and her conscious mind couldn't pin down the hidden reasoning which had caused it.
Luc Ferrier's blue eyes narrowed and he watched her closely. 'We'll make a bargain,' he told her.
'What?' She looked anxiously into the blue eyes, her face shifting in uncertainty.
'Spend the afternoon with me and I promise I won't play poker with your fiancé tonight,' he drawled.
Lissa sensed at once that lie had led her into that trap deliberately. He had known she was nervous about Chris playing with him and he had played on her fears.
'Well?' he demanded.
She looked down, biting her lower lip, trying to think. It was blatant blackmail and she would need her head examined if she gave in to it. Chris had promised he wouldn't play with Luc Ferrier, hadn't he? But Chris was a gambler and Lissa knew gamblers. Chris would forget his promise to her if his passion for poker beckoned.
Luc Ferrier turned away, shrugging those wide shoulders. 'Okay, forget it. Obviously you have no objections to Brandon playing with me, after all.'
'I'll come,' she said huskily as he moved away.
He stopped and turned. The blue eyes smiled and she caught her breath at the beauty of them, set in their thick black lashes, the compelling nature of that smile irresistible.
She knew it was madness to agree to spend the afternoon with him, but if she had refused she guessed he would have persuaded Chris to play tonight and Chris would have lost again. Lissa was certain of it. Chris hadn't got a hope against Luc Ferrier.
She left Fortune at the desk with the day clerk and went to her room. She showered and changed into a plain blue shift in glazed cotton. It was sleeveless, with a low scooped neckline, quite short, exposing most of her body to the sun. Brushing her long blonde hair, she thought about the problem facing her. How was she going to spend several hours with Luc Ferrier and still keep him at a safe distance? In the past her innocence
had protected her. All the men who worked at the hotel kept their distance without her having to do anything about it. They might smile, eye her admiringly, but they had never stepped over the line they drew for themselves.
She did not need to guess that Luc Ferrier was going to be much tougher to handle; everything about him made it blazingly obvious.
She drew her hair behind her head and anchored it with a small black velvet bow. The change of hairstyle gave her face a pure outline, very young, very innocent. She regarded herself assessingly. Yes, she decided, that was better. She did not put on any make-up. Quite often in the summer she didn't bother. Her tanned skin did not need it and spending so much time in the ocean she just forgot to put make-up on except in the evenings when she was going to work.
When she joined Luc Ferrier she felt the quick, all-seeing shaft of his glance. The blue eyes were sardonic as she looked up into them. He knew she had dressed carefully and deliberately and he knew why.
'Very demure,’ he murmured softly. 'Sweet and innocent. You look like a daisy.'
She flushed, not liking the comparison.
'Shall we be on our way?' Luc asked, and she turned reluctantly to walk out with him.
Rebecca was crossing the foyer with a clipboard and sheaf of papers in her hand. Lissa felt her staring and avoided her eyes. Rebecca would tell Chris, she realised with a quiver of alarm. What would Chris say when he found out she had gone off with Luc Ferrier?
She took Luc to the best restaurant in town. It did not look much on the outside. Housed in one of the frame buildings on the front, it had a ramshackle air, leaning crazily in the wind, creaking like an old boat. Inside it was elegantly furnished and the food was superb. It was island cooking at its best-tinged with that distinct French flavour which centuries of French dominance had given the islanders. The ingredients were alien, but the cooking and serving gave the meal a classic simplicity.
'What's in this sauce?' Luc asked her, looking with pleasure at his plate.
'Local honey, spices, pineapple, vinegar,' she said.
He was eating octopus with rice and baked bananas.
His brows had risen as he read the menu, but she could see that he was enjoying the odd combination and Lissa knew from experience that it was delicious.
She herself was eating chicken sliced very thinly and served wrapped in slices of local molasses-cooked ham.
Their waiter knew her and hovered politely within earshot-she wasn't sure whether he did it out of a desire to be some sort of protection for her, or whether he was merely eager to please. Whenever she looked round she caught the white flash of his teeth as he smiled at her.
Luc saw her smiling back and glanced over his broad shoulder. He crooked a long, brown finger and the waiter sprang forward. 'Sir?'
'If we want you, we'll call you,' Luc said very softly, meeting his eyes.
The waiter bowed and silently vanished.
'They all know you, don't they?' Luc asked, and Lissa nodded, smiling faintly. 'How old were you when you first came here?'
She told him and he listened with interest. 'So you were born in England?'
She nodded, and he pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair, his thumbs in the pockets of the waistcoat of his light blue suit. It was one of the things about him that betrayed his money-the cut of the suit had London stamped all over it. The design was modern without being aggressively in fashion and the tailoring was first class. He wasn't wearing a tie and the collar of his shirt was casually opened.
'Have you ever wanted to go back to England?' he asked, studying her coolly.
Lissa shook her head. 'Not to live-for a visit, perhaps. I think I'd find it a bit cold.'
He lowered his thick lashes. 'Not necessarily,' he answered, and she saw the edge of his mouth curl upwards in a secret little smile.