Page 18 of Another Lucky Number

‘Where are you meeting him?’ Cat asks.

‘In the cocktail bar. Apparently, we’ll head to dinner from there.’ I stare into my drink apprehensively. ‘He didn’t even ask me to confirm. Guess he’s willing to see if I turn up.’

‘How exciting. I wonder which restaurant he’ll choose. Maybe the fine-dining one. That seems his kind of thing.’

‘Doesn’t really matter, does it?’ Amber snorts. ‘He owns them all. Won’t have to put his hand in his pocket.’

‘Right, I’d better go.’ I down the last of my drink, then we get up and make our way to the door. ‘I’ll see you girls later. Don’t have too much fun without me.’

We go our separate ways, my heels click-clacking along the tiled floor, body jangling with nerves.What the hell am I doing?This man is perfect. So far out of my league it’s not funny. He lives a life I – even with my lottery win of several-hundred-thousand-pounds – can only dream of.Ugh. I need to get hold of myself or I’ll end up in a gibbering mess.

On reaching the terrace cocktail bar, I glance around anxiously for Sébastien. I’m on such high alert that I almost go into cardiac arrest when he suddenly appears behind me.

‘Emma,bonsoir.’

I slowly turn to face him, my heart hammering in my chest. He looks devastatingly handsome: his hair damp from the shower, eyes crinkling in that appealing slightly-older-man kind of way. He’s wearing an expensive looking suit, open at the collar, no tie, as well as the same heady fragrance from the evening before, which conjures up all sorts of desires within me.

‘Bonsoir, Sébastien.’ I murmur, as he kisses me on each cheek, setting them alight.

‘So glad you could join me,’ he says. ‘You looktrés jolie. Now, we are not stopping here. The car is waiting.’

‘The car?’

‘Mais, oui. You did not think I was going to take you to a restaurant you have already paid for? No, we are going somewhere a little more special.’

‘I think the resort’s pretty special.’

‘Of course.’ He gives another sparkling smile. ‘But tonight, you will have an authentic experience at the finest independent restaurant in the Bahamas.’

He leads me outside to a huge black Rolls Royce, opens the back door and ushers me inside. Then he gets in beside me and the chauffer drives off.

‘I’ll have you there in ten minutes, Monsieur Dumont,’ the driver says to Sébastien, making eye contact with him throughthe rear-view mirror.

‘Merci bien, Lyndon,’ Sébastien replies and sits back, looking relaxed – the complete opposite to me.

We sit in silence while the car passes the resort security post, exits the grounds and joins the main road. With the light of the day quickly fading, I don’t get as good a view of the palm tree-lined coast as I’d hoped, but as we pass more built-up areas, I am able to make out a curious mix of luxury accommodation interspersed with dilapidated buildings in desperate need of repair. I’m also surprised by the number of monstrous American-style trucks and pick-ups that pass us. It’s certainly all very interesting to take in (and a good distraction from my nerves).

Sébastien seems to sense that I’m uneasy and engages me in light, easy conversation, mainly asking my thoughts on the Bahamas and the resort so far. As we talk, my nerves settle and I find myself enjoying the conversation, even occasionally stealing glances at him. He looks so sexy and masculine, the sharp contours of his face accentuated in the half-light, and I can’t help imagining what it would be like to be kissed by him.

‘You mentioned last night that you’re mainly here for work,’ I say. ‘Is this a regular trip for you? To check everything’s running as it should be?’

‘Yes and no.’ Sébastien shrugs in a non-committal way. ‘I trust my team. But I do like to be present at times to offer my support and connect with our guests.’

‘Makes sense. Great you can make a holiday of it too and get some down time.’

‘Absolument, yes.’ He smiles at me, and instead of the slithering feeling from the last few hours, my insides dance with excitement. ‘Though in my line of business there is little opportunity for proper “down time”, as you call it. I will have meetings every day, but I know I must also recharge to be able to give the best support my resort teams.’

I nod, impressed by Sébastien’s work ethic and commitment to his people. This just makes him all the more appealing.

After a short drive, Lyndon pulls into a narrow road and stops in front of what looks like the entrance to a large estate. A few moments later, the gates open and we cruise inside and along a winding driveway to a small roundabout of sorts outside a tastefully-lit salmon pink building with a tiled roof. Lyndon pulls up outside the front of it and gets out of the driving seat to open my door for me, while Sébastien lets himself out of the other side. Sébastien then thanks Lyndon and he drives off.

‘S’il te plait.’ Sébastien extends a hand, ushering me towards the main door of the building while following close behind. ‘This is West Bay Estate, Emma. Do you enjoy seafood?’

‘I do.’ I try to hide the nervousness from my voice.

‘Bien. Then we should have an enjoyable evening.’

‘Good evening, Monsieur Dumont… ma’am,’ the maître d’ welcomes us as we enter a reception area just inside the door. ‘It is good to see you again.’

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