Page 252 of The Black Trilogy

Luke shook his head as a cacophony of horns sounded from outside. Gridlock didn’t bring out the best in people.

The woman fumbled in her bag. “Where’s my phone?” she muttered.

Luke spotted it under a chair and picked it up. “It’s cracked. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Don’t worry about it. As long as it works—I need to call for a car.”

Luke was desperate to make amends. “My driver will be here in a couple of minutes. Can I give you a lift somewhere?” Anywhere. Her place. A restaurant. A hotel. His house, if he managed to hit the jackpot. Could he convince her to shed that dress?

“I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Luke had always prided himself on looking after the women in his life. He’d treated them well, been interested in their feelings, and got to know them before taking them to bed. And look how that had worked out.

He’d never tried the “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” approach before, but Rob assured him it worked. What better way to get over Ash than to replace her with an upgraded model?

And there was something about the redhead in front of him that made his head go funny.

She took another look outside. Two men squared up to each other, ready to come to blows over the only black cab in sight.

“Really, it’s okay,” she said. “It was just a little spill, and I can call for a car myself. I should have done that in the first place, but the Tube’s usually quicker.”

Luke saw his chance slipping away. “I insist. I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything.”

He tried to lighten the mood because, for a beautiful woman, she looked incredibly sad.

“I’m not worried about that,” she replied, lips flickering into what Luke hoped was a smile. “If you’re able to give me a lift, it sure would save me a lot of time.”

“No problem. Follow me.”

Luke’s car drew up seconds after they reached the front of the lobby. He wished he had an umbrella to hold over the redhead as they dashed through the rain to his black limousine, but he’d forgotten to bring one. He wrenched the door open as they reached the vehicle and helped her into the back. Her skirt rose as she slid into the leather seat, and Luke could barely drag his gaze away from her legs as he climbed in beside her. She gave the driver her address, then Luke wound up the privacy screen.

“So,” he said, trying to break the ice. “Why are you having such a bad day?”

Men were supposed to ask things like that, right? It made them seem caring. He’d lost his touch lately, and he needed to get it back.

Her forehead crinkled with worry lines, and she bit her plump bottom lip. Adorable. Luke felt a movement in the trouser department as other parts of his anatomy agreed with him.

“A friend of mine’s gone missing, and I’m helping with the search. I’m worried in case we don’t find her.”

“Have you tried all the usual places? Friends, relatives?”

“It’s not that straightforward. She was on, uh, vacation when she disappeared.”

“Have you got the local police involved?”

“Unfortunately, the police in that locale aren’t all that helpful.”

“She’ll probably turn up. Most people do. Maybe she just had one drink too many and wandered off?”

Mark had gone missing in France three or four years back, and they found him in the next village, clutching a bottle of Calvados with no recollection as to how he got there.

“We know she didn’t do that. It’s been days now.” The redhead gave a sniffle.

Luke’s chest tightened. Crying women scared him, and he was never quite sure how to handle them. The situation got worse when she turned to the window and swiped at her eyes, then her shoulders shook as the tears came.

Oh dear. Now what? Luke pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her. He carried one out of habit, drilled into him long ago by his mother.

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