appetiser.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart. I’d place you more as a deliciously forbidden dessert than an appetiser. But one I intend to devour nonetheless.’
She was on a dance floor thousands of miles away from home, immersed in a debate about which food course she was.
Surreal didn’t even begin to cover the emotions coursing through her as she glanced up at him and encountered that blatantly masculine square jaw and those hypnotic eyes.
‘Look, Mr...?’
He raised a brow. ‘You’re at a masked event, shrouded in secrecy, embroiled in intrigue and mystery, and you want to know my name?’ he asked cynically.
Damn, how could she have forgotten? ‘Why do I get the feeling that all this bores you rigid?’
His eyes gleamed. ‘How very intuitive of you. You’re right—it does. Or it did, until I saw you.’
Her heart gave a little kick. One she determinedly ignored. ‘You were fully engaged when you played your game. And that had nothing to do with me.’
Again that reminder hardened his eyes. ‘Ah, but I lost thirty million dollars so I could make what’s happening between us happen sooner.’
‘There’s nothing happening—’
‘If you believe that then you really are naïve.’
Another couple danced closer. The flash of red hair distracted Ruby enough to make her look. Redhead was in the arms of another man but her hungry eyes were fixed squarely on Narciso.
Irrational irritation jerked up Ruby’s spine.
Pursing her lips, she tilted her chin at the redhead. ‘Why don’t you help yourself to her? She definitely wants you.’
He didn’t bother to glance where Ruby indicated. He merely smiled and shrugged. ‘Every woman wants me.’
‘Wow, you’re not the shy type at all, are you?’ she snapped.
He leaned forward, and a swathe of luxurious black hair fell over his forehead to curl over the top of his mask. ‘Are those the types that turn you on?’ he whispered.
The image of shy, self-effacing...duplicitous Simon fleeted across her mind. She stiffened. ‘We’re not discussing my tastes here.’
‘I’ve clearly hit a nerve. But if you don’t tell me what your tastes are, how will I know how to please you?’ His mouth was a hair’s breadth from her ear.
Ruby fought to breathe. Her chest was a mere inch from his but her lower body was plastered against his in a way that made his body’s response blatant and unmistakable.
He was aroused. And he meant her to know it.
Her abdomen clenched so forcefully, she lost her footing and stumbled.
Strong hands righted her and began to pull her back into his arms but Ruby quickly stepped back.
‘You can start by buying me a drink.’
He reluctantly dropped his hand from her waist. Expecting overwhelming relief, Ruby frowned when it didn’t arrive.
A white-jacketed waiter hovered nearby. ‘Champagne?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Something else.’
Something that would take several minutes to make and give her time to get her perplexing emotions under control.
‘State what you wish,’ he said.
She almost blurted her reason for being in Macau there and then. But this wasn’t the right time. She needed to get him alone, in a place where he couldn’t blow her off as easily as his employees had these past weeks.
Casting her gaze around, she pointed to the far side of the room. ‘There.’
‘The ice-vodka lounge? Is this a delaying tactic?’
‘Of course not. I really want a drink.’
He watched her for several seconds, then he nodded.
This time her relief was tangible. But the reprieve didn’t last long. His arm slid possessively around her waist as he led her off the dance floor.
She was suppressing the rising tide of that damned chemistry when he leaned in close. ‘You’re only trying to delay the inevitable, tesoro.’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
His laughter drew gazes and turned heads. Ruby had a feeling everything this man did compelled attention. And not just of the female variety.
Powerful men stepped aside as he steered her towards the vodka lounge. A faux-fur coat appeared as if by magic and he draped it over her shoulders before they entered the sub-zero room. She headed for an empty slot at the bar, near an ice sculpture carved in the shape of a Chinese dragon.
The bartender glanced at her unmasked face with a frown.
‘I’d like a Big Apple Avalanche, please. Heavy on the apple.’ She needed a clear head if she intended to stay toe to toe with Narciso Valentino.
The bartender didn’t move. ‘I don’t think you’re allowed—’
‘Is there a problem?’ The hard rasp came from over her shoulder.
The bartender snapped to attention. ‘Not at all, sir.’ He grabbed the apple mixer and the canister of top-range vodka.
‘I’ll take it from here.’ Narciso took the drinks from him and waved him away.
Despite the warmth of her coat, she shivered when he turned to her.
‘Ready?’
God, this wasn’t going well at all. Far from feeling under control, she felt her thoughts scatter to the wind every time he looked into her eyes.
‘Yes,’ she said as she inserted the specialised drinking spout into the ice outlet and brought her lips to it.
Her eyes met molten silver ones and fiery heat rushed into her belly. He slowly tipped the canister and icy vodka and apple pooled into her mouth.
Cold and heat simultaneously soothed and burned their way down her throat but the power of the decadent drink came nowhere close to the potent gleam in his eyes.
Before discovering Simon’s duplicity, sex had been something she’d imagined in abstract terms; something she’d accepted would eventually happen between them, once the trust and affection she’d thought was growing between them was solid enough to lean on.
Sex just for the sake of it, or used as a weapon the way she’d watched her parents use it, had made being a virgin at twenty-four an easy choice.
But looking into Narciso’s eyes, she slowly began to understand why sex was a big deal for some women. Why they dwelled on it with such single-minded ferocity.
Never had she wanted to drown in a man’s eyes. Never had she wanted to kiss sensually masculine lips the way she wanted to kiss him right now. She wanted to feel those arms around her again, holding her prisoner the way they’d held her on the dance floor. She wanted to spear her fingers through his luxurious hair, scrape her nails over his scalp and find out if it brought him pleasure.
‘Have another one,’ he commanded huskily. He raised the sterling silver mixer, his gaze riveted on her mouth.
He wanted to kiss her badly. The same way she wanted to kiss him. Or would have if she didn’t know from painful experience how treacherous and volatile sexual attraction could be.
‘No, thanks. It’s getting late. I need to go.’
One beautifully winged brow rose. ‘You need to go.’
‘Yes.’
‘And where exactly do you intend to go?’
She