him and proffered a faint smile. ‘The women will vie with each other for your attention,’ she anticipated lightly.
‘I have no control over inherited genes,’ he responded in an amused drawl. ‘And the only woman I am interested in is you.’
For now, Elise added silently, wishing she could believe him. It would be incredible to feel truly secure in a man’s love, to know without any element of doubt that you were adored, and that even if he displayed visual appreciation for another no other woman had a chance of capturing his heart.
Such a hope belonged in the realms of fantasy, she decided ruefully, as the Bentley became part of the flow of traffic entering the inner-city perimeter.
Reality was a combination of harsh facts and formidable statistics which existed as irrefutable proof that love did not always last forever. The first heady bloom often flared brilliantly, only to diminish all too frequently to a state of prosaic affection.
The car slid to a halt, and Elise’s eyes widened with the realisation that they were stationary. The car park was brightly lit, and there were sounds and movement as guests vacated their cars.
Alejandro caught her elbow in a light clasp and led her towards the main entrance. Inside, several guests mingled in small groups, and there were several smartly uniformed waiters and waitresses proffering drinks and bite-sized food.
Almost at once Alejandro was greeted by the gallery owner and engaged in conversation, and Elise found herself drawn into a civilised debate on the advantages of free artistic expression over the confines of conformity.
‘Do you enjoy Alejandro’s artistic taste?’
Oh, hell, she wasn’t even sure which artists he favoured. The paintings hanging on the walls at Point Piper and Palm Beach were visually pleasing, although a few were a little too modern for her own enjoyment.
‘Mostly,’ she agreed. ‘Although he has a Pro Hart of which I’m not particularly fond.’
‘My wife is a traditionalist,’ Alejandro relayed smoothly. ‘Her taste runs to Max Boyd.’
‘Oh, my dear. Hart is quite brilliant.’
‘So are a number of other noted Australian artists,’ she offered firmly. ‘It’s very much a personal choice, don’t you think?’
‘There’s an excellent piece you really must see. Expensive, but worthy of investment.’ He riffled through the catalogue pages and brought the item to Alejandro’s notice, then made his excuses as someone else demanded his attention.
‘I happen to like Max Boyd,’ Elise protested as Alejandro’s amused gaze rested on her expressive features.
‘So do I,’ he assured her, and, placing an arm round her waist, he directed her towards a display. ‘Shall we begin viewing?’
Some paintings verged on the bizarre, others resembled caricatures of design over brilliant slashes of colour. One in particular looked as if a child at kindergarten level had indulged in a totally wild battle with numerous pots of multi-coloured paint.
‘What do you think?’
Elise turned towards Alejandro and endeavoured to present a considered viewpoint. After several seconds she voiced with restraint, ‘I’d prefer not to answer on the grounds that anything I say could be overheard, taken into account, and held against me.’
‘A remarkable nonconformist piece,’ Alejandro drawled knowledgeably, and her eyes danced as she nodded in silent agreement. ‘Shall we move on?’
‘Please.’
There were a number of guests present whom she had met before, and for the next hour she exchanged pleasantries, accepted an invitation for an upcoming fashion parade, deferred to Alejandro on no less than three dinner invitations, and she was just beginning to find the evening a relaxing venture when she glimpsed a familiar head several feet distant.
Savannah. As if by design the guests shifted position so that the model’s body profile was in clear view: a stunning figure, attired in a flamboyant gown that on anyone one else would have looked totally outrageous.
Elise forced herself to meet Savannah’s intent gaze, and for one brief second she witnessed unadulterated venom before it was masked. A slight smile appeared in acknowledgement before Savannah turned towards her partner, and Elise was unable to prevent a slight shiver.
Did Alejandro know Savannah was here? It was a distinct probability.
‘More mineral water?’
‘Thank you.’
‘We should be able to get away in less than an hour. We’ll go on to dinner afterwards,’ Alejandro said quietly.
‘Have you already booked?’
He named a well-known restaurant famed for its fine cuisine. ‘You would prefer somewhere else?’
‘Quiet, out of the way, with little chance of meeting anyone we know?’ she suggested hopefully.
‘I can recollect a few.’
Suitable for clandestine meetings? Damn, she had to stop resorting to destructive introspection! ‘Of course, we could buy a take-away meal on the way home.’
‘Anything in particular?’
‘Chinese?’
His eyes gleamed with humour. ‘I’ll cancel the restaurant from the car.’
‘Thank you.’
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek. ‘Just where precisely do you intend we eat?’
She looked at him with undue solemnity. ‘Dressed like this?’ she enquired innocently. ‘At the dining-room table. Where else?’
‘We could always change first.’
‘And eat out on the terrace?’ She offered a singularly sweet smile. ‘What a wonderful idea.’
The depths of his eyes took on a dark brilliance. ‘Minx. Remind me to extract due penance.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
A slow, wicked smile tugged the edges of his mouth, and his voice held infinite indolence. ‘Just watch me.’
Every bone in her body began to feel liquefied at the thought of precisely how he would exact atonement. ‘I think,’ she said unsteadily, ‘we should attempt to continue our viewing, don’t you?’
‘An excellent suggestion.’
It was after eight when they left, and almost nine before Alejandro garaged the car. The plastic carrier bag with its various containers emitted a mouthwatering aroma, and Elise slid off her shoes the moment they entered the house.
‘You intend to change before we eat?’
She cast him a studied glance. ‘This gown cost a small fortune.’
‘So did my suit,’ drawled Alejandro.
‘Perhaps you should exchange it for something less formal.’
‘And save on the dry-cleaning bill?’
‘Naturally.’
‘I gather eating in bed would be considered the height of decadence?’
She failed miserably in suppressing an impish smile. ‘It would be such a shame to waste the food.’
‘The terrace?’
Her eyes twinkled with devilish humour. ‘Think of the moonlight.’
He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over a nearby chair. ‘Plates, cutlery, glasses?’
She pretended due consideration. ‘I guess we could opt for informality,’ she decided as she picked up her shoes and made for the staircase. ‘Two forks, two