Snowbound With His Forbidden Innocent

There’s nowhere to hide from their chemistry…

Stacey has worked hard to become a successful businesswoman. She won’t let anyone—even frustratingly sexy tycoon Lucas Da Silva—remind her of the overlooked girl she once was.

Carrying responsibility for his worldwide company and siblings, Lucas is always in control. Especially of himself. But snowbound with Stacey, his best friend’s untouched—and very off-limits!—sister, he discovers temptation like no other. And as their mutual attraction grows hotter than the fire in his luxurious mountain chalet, Lucas has never been so close to breaking the rules…

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon style, they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis or gallops through the countryside, singing loudly.

Also by Susan Stephens

A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper

The Sicilian’s Defiant Virgin

The Secret Kept from the Greek

A Night of Royal Consequences

The Sheikh’s Shock Child

Pregnant by the Desert King

The Greek’s Virgin Temptation

Passion in Paradise collection

A Scandalous Midnight in Madrid

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Snowbound with His Forbidden Innocent

Susan Stephens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08850-3

SNOWBOUND WITH HIS FORBIDDEN INNOCENT

© 2019 Susan Stephens

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For Vic,

editor extraordinaire,

who makes the compulsion of writing

such an absolute pleasure.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

PARTIES BORED HIM. He didn’t want to go to tonight’s jamboree, but his guests expected it. Ambassadors, celebrities, and royalty who craved the Da Silva glitter expected to see the head of the company and to feast at his table.

He took the short route to the ballroom via his private elevator. Senses firing on full alert, he was on his way to check every single element organised by the company he’d hired to run the event, and woe betide Party Planners if anything fell short of his expectations.

Why should it? Party Planners was reputed to be the best in the business or he wouldn’t have signed off on his people hiring them. There was just one fly in that very expensive ointment. Having assumed responsibility for the event last minute when the principal of the company, Lady Sarah, had been taken ill, his best friend Niahl’s kid sister, Stacey, had taken over responsibility for running his banquet in Barcelona. And, in the biggest surprise of all, his people had assured him that Stacey was now considered to be the best party planner in the business.

It was five years since he’d last seen Niahl’s sister at another Party Planners event, where she hadn’t exactly filled him with confidence. In fairness, she’d just started work for the company and a lot could happen in five years. On that particular occasion she’d been rushing around trying to help, spilling drinks left right and centre, in what to him, back then, had been typical Stacey. But of course his memories were of a young teenager whom he’d first met when Niahl had invited him home from university to visit their family stud farm. Niahl, Stacey and he had lived and breathed horses, and when he’d seen the quality of the animals their father was breeding, he’d determined to have his own string one day. Today he was lucky enough to be one of the foremost owners of racehorses and polo ponies in the world.

His thoughts soon strayed back to Stacey. He was curious about her, and how the change in her had occurred. She’d always tried to help, and had been slapped down for it at home, so it wasn’t a surprise to him when he heard she’d gravitated towards the hospitality industry. He hoped she’d found happiness and guessed she had. She’d found none at home, where her father and his new wife had treated her like an indentured servant. No matter how hard she’d tried to please, Stacey had always been blamed, and in anyone’s hearing, for the death of her mother in childbirth when she was born. No child should suffer that.

Niahl had told him that as soon as she’d been old enough and the opportunity had presented itself, Stacey had left home. All she’d ever wanted, Niahl added, was to care for people and make them happy, no doubt in the hope that one day someone might appreciate her, as her father never had.

He shrugged as the elevator descended from the penthouse floor and his thoughts continued to run over the past five years. Stacey had obviously gone quite a way in her career, but he wondered about her personal life. He didn’t want to ponder it too deeply. She’d been so fresh and innocent and he couldn’t bring himself to think about her with men. He smiled, remembering her teenage crush on him. He’d never let on that he knew, but it was hard to forget that kiss in the stable when she’d lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck like a vice. Touching his lips where stubble was already springing sharp and black, he found the memory was as strong now as it ever had been. The yielding softness of her breasts pressing against the hard planes of his chest had never left his mind. Thinking back on it made him hard. Which was wrong. Stacey Winner was forbidden fruit. Too young, too gauche, too close to home, and a royal argumentative pain in the ass.

Stacey was the reason he’d visited the farm. Supposedly he’d been there to look at the horses he’d longed to buy one day when he’d made some money, but once he’d met her he hadn’t been able to stay away. She’d kept throwing down the gauntlet, and he’d kept picking it up. She’d invigorated him, kept him alive, when the grief that had threatened to overwhelm him had become unbearable. He’d never shared his feelings with her—never shared his feelings with anyone. Nobody had suspected the battle going on inside Lucas except perhaps for Niahl, but Niahl was a good friend whereas Stacey had just liked to torment him.

He wasn’t short of cash now, and could buy all the horses he liked. Some had come from their farm—whatever else he was, Stacey’s father knew his horseflesh—and had gone on to become winners, or to earn fortunes at stud. The tech company Luc had founded in his bedroom as a desperate measure to pay off his parents’ debts went from strength to strength. Money kept pouring in. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.

Determined to support his siblings when their parents had been killed in a tragic accident and the bank had called in his parents’ loans, he’d used an ancient computer to put together a program that traced bloodlines of horses across the world. One programme had led to another until Da Silva Inc had offices in every major capital, but his first love remained horses and the wild foothills of the Sierra Nevada where the animals thrived on his estancia.

As the elevator slowed to a halt, and the steel door slid open with a muted hiss, he stepped out on the ballroom level. He couldn’t help but be aware of the interest he provoked. Da Silva Inc was now a top company. Thanks to his talent for tech, and with desperation driving him forwards, he was the owner of all he surveyed, including this hotel. But it was not his natural habitat. Staring at the glittering scene beyond the grand double doors leading into the ballroom, he wished he were riding the trail, but this lavish banquet was an opportunity for him to thank his staff, and to raise money from the great and good for an array of well-deserving charities. No matter that he was already uncomfortable in his custom-made suit, with the stiff white collar of his shirt cutting into his neck and the black tie he’d fastened while snarling into the mirror strangling him, he would move heaven and earth to make tonight a success. Untying the bow tie, he opened the top button of his shirt and cracked his neck with pleasure. There had to be some compensations for running the show, though he longed for the freedom of the trail and a flat-out gallop.

He scanned the bustling space, but while his eyes clocked mundane details, his mind was fixed on finding Stacey. What differences would five years have made? His people had dealt with the minutiae of the contract and briefing meetings so there’d been no reason for him to get involved. He hoped she was happy. She was certainly successful. But how would she behave towards him? Would she be reserved now she was older and presumably wiser, or would that demon glint still flare in her eyes? Part of him hoped for the latter, but his guests deserved a calm, well-run evening with no drama to ruffle their expensive feathers. He’d called her room, but there’d been no answer. The party was almost due to begin. She should be here… So where was she?

He quartered the ballroom, pacing like a hunting wolf with its senses raw and flaring. Guests were starting to arrive. Curious glances came his way. Some women took an involuntary step back, fearing his reputation, while others, attracted to danger, gave him signals as old as time. They meant nothing to him. His only ambition had ever been to blank his mind to the horror of his parents’ death, and then to care for his siblings. He had no time for romance, and no need of it, either. His business had brought him wealth beyond imagining, which made any and all distractions available, though horses remained the love of his life. A string of high-profile, though ultimately meaningless, affairs were useful in that they allowed him not to dwell too deeply on himself.

As he passed the bar he remembered the last time he and Stacey had met. She’d knocked a drink over his companion by accident, costing him a replacement couture gown. He hadn’t troubled her with the detail, as Stacey had very kindly offered to have the dress cleaned. Naturally that hadn’t suited the woman on his arm at the time, who had seen the incident as an opportunity to add to her greedy haul. It had certainly proved a necessary wake-up call for him. He’d arranged for his PA to deliver the usual pay-off to the woman in the form of an expensive jewel, delivered the next morning, together with a new, far more expensive dress.

Why had fate chosen to put Stacey in his way again?

Or had he put her in his way? His people worked on the finer details of an event, but it was up to him to okay the contract. With a short cynical laugh, he acknowledged that he missed their verbal jousting. No one stood up to him as Stacey did, and he was weary of being fawned over. He craved her stimulating presence, even though she used to drive him crazy with the tricks she played on him at the farm. He missed the looks that passed between them and the electricity that sparked whenever they were close. It was ironic that a man who could buy anything couldn’t buy the one thing he wanted: a few moments of her time.

Money meant nothing to Stacey. She’d proved that on the day he’d bought her favourite horse. He hadn’t realised when her father had offered him the promising colt that the animal had meant so much to Stacey. When transport had arrived to take the horse to his estancia in Spain, he’d offered Stacey the same money he’d paid her father if she would just stop crying. He couldn’t have said anything to annoy her more, and she’d flung everything she could get her hands on at him. It had done him no good at all to point out that the money would pay her college fees.

‘I hate you!’ she’d screamed. ‘You don’t know anything about love. All you care about is money!’ That had hurt because he did know about love. The pain of losing his parents never left him, though he rarely examined that grief, knowing it might swamp him if he did. ‘If you hurt Ludo, I’ll kill you!’ she’d vowed. Staring into Stacey’s wounded green eyes, he’d understood the anguish of someone who relied on a madcap brother and a horse for affection; she was losing one of them, when she couldn’t afford to lose either.

‘Is everything to your satisfaction, Señor Da Silva?’

He swung around to find the hotel manager hovering anxiously behind him. Such was the power Da Silva Inc wielded that however he tried to make things easy for people they literally trembled at the thought of letting him down.

‘If anything falls short in your eyes, Señor Da Silva—’ the manager wrung his hands at the thought ‘—my staff will quickly make it right for you, though I have to say Party Planners has excelled itself. I can’t remember any big event we’ve held here running quite so smoothly.’

‘Thank you for the reassurance, señor,’ Lucas returned politely. ‘I was just thinking the same thing.’ As there was still no sign of Stacey, he asked, ‘The team leader of Party Planners—have you seen her?’

‘Ah, yes, señor. Señorita Winner is in the kitchen checking last-minute details.’

The manager looked relieved that he had finally been of help, and Lucas gave his arm a reassuring pat. ‘You and your staff are top class, and I know you will give the party planners every assistance.’

Why hadn’t she come to find him? He ground his jaw as the manager hurried away. Surely the client was important too?

So thinks a man who hasn’t given Stacey’s whereabouts or well-being a passing thought for the past five years, he mused. And yet now I expect her to dance attendance on me?

Frankly, yes. Da Silva Inc was everyone’s most valuable account. To be associated with his company was considered a seal of quality, as well as a guarantee of future success. She should be thanking him, not avoiding him.

Was that his problem? Or was it picturing Stacey as she might be now, a worldly and experienced woman, socially and sexually confident in any setting?

That might be grating on his tetchy psyche, he conceded grudgingly. She’d always had her own mind, and would no doubt appear when she was ready, and not a moment before. And if he didn’t know what to expect, at least he knew what he wanted.

He wanted the wild child Stacey had been as a teenager, the woman who could be infuriating one minute and then caring and tender the next. He wanted all of her and he wanted her now, for, as frustratingly defiant as Stacey was, she could light up a room. Every other woman present would fall short because of her.

Irritating, impossible to ignore, beautiful, vulnerable Stacey…

And that vulnerability was the very reason he couldn’t have her. She’d been through enough. He was no saint. No comfort blanket, either. He was a hard-bitten businessman with ice where his heart used to live, who only cared for his siblings, his staff, and the charities he supported. Beyond that was a vast, uncharted region he had no intention of exploring.

By the time he reached the kitchen he had convinced himself that it would be better if he didn’t see Stacey. There’d be no chance to stand and chat, and a man of his appetite shouldn’t contemplate toying with the sister of his friend. Instead, he sought distraction in the winter wonderland she had created in the ballroom. A champagne fountain, its glasses seemingly precariously balanced, reached all the way to the mezzanine floor. Ice carvers were putting the finishing touches to their life-sized sculptures of horses and riders, while in another corner there was an ice bar—which perfectly suited his mood—where cocktail waiters defied gravity as they practised tossing their bottles about. Turning, he viewed the circular dance floor around which tables were dressed for a lavish banquet. The best chefs in the world would cook for his guests, and had competed for the honour of being chosen for this privilege. Heavy carved crystal glasses sat atop crisp white linen waiting to be filled with vintage wines and champagne, while a forest of candles lit the scene. His chosen colour scheme of green and white had been executed to perfection. The floral displays were both extravagant and stylish. Wait staff had assembled, and the orchestra was tuning up. An excited tension filled the ballroom, promising a night to remember.

Like a finely bred horse held on a short rein, everything around him was on the point of leaping into action. Except his libido, he conceded with a twist of his lips, which he would stamp on tonight.

Everything was on the point of being ready. Stacey loved this moment just before the starting gun went off. She was still dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, ready to help out wherever she could, but she wanted to be showered and dressed as elegantly as she could to witness the excitement of the guests when they saw the room for the first time, and feel the tension of the hard-working chefs and staff as they waited for service to begin. She found this early atmosphere at any event infectious. It always sent a frisson of anticipation rippling down her spine, though tonight that frisson was more of an earthquake at the thought of seeing Lucas again. She couldn’t wait to prove herself, and show what the team could do. She wanted him to know that she’d made it—perhaps not to his level in the financial sense, but she could do this and, more importantly, she loved doing this. What the Da Silva people couldn’t know was that Lady Sarah, the owner of Party Planners, had been taken ill and the bank was threatening to foreclose, but if Stacey could keep things on an even keel tonight, and secure the next contract with Da Silva, the bank had promised to back off. They wouldn’t lose the Da Silva account, of that she was grimly determined. The team had worked too hard. If anything did go wrong, she would take responsibility.

Coming face to face with the man who’d given her so many sleepless nights when she was a teenager was something else. It should have been easy, as she’d kept track of Lucas through Niahl and through the press. Lucas was frequently pictured with this princess or that celebrity, always looking glorious but elegantly bored. He’d never had much time for glitz, she remembered. Would he be with someone tonight? She tensed at the thought.

She couldn’t bear it.

She had to bear it.

Lucas didn’t belong to her and never had. He was her brother’s friend, and he and Niahl moved in very different circles. Stacey had always been happiest on the ground floor, grafting alongside her co-workers, while Lucas preferred an ivory tower—just so long as there was a stable close by.

Spirits were high when the Party Planners team assembled for a last-minute briefing in the office adjacent to the ballroom. This was a glamorous and exciting occasion, and, even in a packed diary of similar glamorous and exciting occasions, the Da Silva party stood out, mainly because the owner and founder of the company was in the building. There wasn’t a single member of the team who hadn’t heard about Lucas Da Silva, or wondered what he was like in person. His prowess in business was common knowledge, as was his blistering talent on the polo field, together with his uncanny ability to train and bring on winning racehorses. Everyone was buzzing at the thought of seeing him, even from a distance, and that included Stacey.

Would she stand up to him as she had in the past?

Would she toss a drink over his date if he had one?

Resist! That’s just nerves talking.

Or would their client relationship get in the way of all that? The only thing that mattered, she reminded herself firmly, was proving to Lucas that she and the team were the best people for this job.

Her first sight of Lucas Da Silva sucked the air from her lungs. At least he was alone, with no companion in sight. Yet. Whatever she’d been expecting, pictured or imagined, nothing came close to how Luc looked now. Hot back in the day in breeches or a pair of old jeans he was unbelievably attractive in a formal dinner suit. And five years had done him favours. Taller than average, he was even more compelling. Age had added gravitas to his quiver of assets. Dressed impeccably with black diamonds glittering at his cuffs, he’d left one button open on his shirt and wore his bow tie slung around his neck. Only Lucas, she mused with a short, rueful laugh. Built like a gladiator, with shoulders wide enough to hoist an ox, he exuded the type of dangerous glamour that had every woman present attempting to attract his attention. With the exception of Stacey, for whom familiarity had bred frustrated acceptance that Lucas probably still thought of her as the annoying younger sister of his friend.