2
SWEET.
That was the first word that came into Michael’s mind when he kissed her, his mouth tasting those lush pink lips that had tempted him from the first moment he’d set eyes on her tonight.
Innocent.
He’d caught her startled gasp in his mouth when his lips had molded to hers. He glimpsed the uncertainty in her beautiful green eyes. The desire, too. It fueled his own, his body on fire now as he pulled her even closer to him.
Perfect.
Maybe it was the imported champagne, or the incredible stress of the past few weeks. Maybe he’d simply gone too long without a woman in his arms, in his bed. Whatever the reason, Michael simply couldn’t remember a kiss so perfect before. So right.
She clung to his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, her hands fisting in the fur of his costume. After a moment, her lips softened, parted. Giving him entry to her mouth. So sweet. So innocent. So perfect.
The woman made him insatiable. He wanted more, so much more. But the sound of glasses clinking and the rumble of voices around them finally sifted through his lust-fogged brain, telling him this wasn’t the time or the place to pursue his fantasy.
Michael lifted his head and tried to breathe normally. The wolf costume, which had been unbearably itchy all night, now was even more so, thanks to the heat generated by that kiss.
His Red Riding Hood blinked up at him, her green eyes wide and her lips now as red as her cape. His gaze quickly scanned the room, aware of a few knowing smiles and furtive whispers. Michael was used to gossips, though he usually tried to avoid giving them firsthand grist for the mill.
What the hell had come over him?
Red wasn’t even his type. He liked his women sultry and sophisticated, tall and tempestuous. She barely reached his shoulder. He wouldn’t have even approached her tonight if he hadn’t seen her standing alone in the middle of the ballroom, looking as lost as he often felt.
Yet, he wanted her. Wanted her so damn much that now he took another step back just to keep from reaching for her again.
She cleared her throat, a pretty pink blush sweeping over her cheeks. “The music is over.”
The music might be over, but not the fantasy. Now he wanted to do more than dance with her, more than kiss her. But not in front of a hundred guests. He wanted Red all to himself.
Someone called out his name and Michael turned around to see Oscar Henley hailing him again. He clenched his jaw, knowing he couldn’t escape this time.
She noticed Oscar, too, and smiled up at Michael. “Duty calls.”
Duty. Michael had lived it every day of his life. As the only heir to the Wolff dynasty, it was his duty to make certain the family business thrived, to direct and expand Wolff Enterprises, to protect the family fortune.
A fortune that could be in jeopardy, thanks to his grandfather’s lovely young wife. Michael should be focused on that tonight instead of losing his head over a mysterious lady in red.
But he found himself reluctant to let go of her so soon. No names. No questions. No promises. Those were her terms and they had intrigued him before that incredible kiss. But now…now he wanted to know her name. Wanted to know everything about her.
And he realized she must be aware of his identity. It was tradition for the host of the Wolff Ball to dress as a wolf. Usually that was his grandfather’s role. But Seamus was in the hospital tonight, recovering from a broken hip.
Thanks to his lovely young wife.
Tension coiled inside of him, but Michael couldn’t think about the Wolff family problems right now. He didn’t want to think about them. Not with Red standing so close, her subtle vanilla scent driving him wild. It reminded him of her kiss. So sweet and innocent. Michael closed his eyes, his duty battling with his desire. He wanted nothing more than to whisk her far away from here, to leave behind all the problems and the decisions and the responsibilities that came with the Wolff name.
Oscar called out to him again and Michael opened his eyes to see the stocky man making his way across the ballroom floor. He swallowed a sigh. “I suppose I have to play the good host for a while.”
She nodded. “Thank you for the dance.”
That sounded too much like goodbye. He grasped both her hands in his own, his thumbs smoothing over the crinkled red silk of her gloves. “Meet me at midnight. Right here. In front of the bandstand.”
He wanted to be there when she removed her mask. He wanted to see her face.
She licked her lips, her hesitation telling him that she was going to refuse. He couldn’t give her that chance.
“No names,” he assured her, wondering at her skittishness. “No questions.”
“No promises,” she whispered.
“Midnight,” he repeated, gently squeezing her hands. Then he turned and walked away.
Midnight couldn’t come soon enough for him.
TEN MINUTES TILL MIDNIGHT.
Sarah was lost. She’d planned this nocturnal excursion into the Wolff mansion down to the last detail, memorizing every room, every staircase, every winding hallway. There was only one thing she hadn’t planned on—Michael Wolff.
Sensing his gaze on her across the ballroom, Sarah had changed her plan at the last minute, choosing a route via the ladies’ room instead of taking the main staircase to the third floor.
From there she found a back staircase that led to the second floor. She knew from the blueprints that here she would find the library, offices and a long gallery full of priceless art. She had to find the staircase leading to the third floor, where the private rooms were located.
Only that staircase was closed for renovation. Sarah stood in the dark hallway, trying not to panic. If only that kiss hadn’t left her so confused and disoriented. So…unsatisfied. She raised her fingers to her lips, still slightly swollen.
Meet me at midnight.
His words echoed in her ears and she leaned against the wall a moment to collect herself. What if she hadn’t been here under false pretenses, but was actually an invited guest? What if they truly were two strangers dancing in the night? What if she met him at midnight…?
Sarah shook those thoughts from her head. She couldn’t afford to indulge in fantasies, no matter how tempting. She needed to save her grandfather. Grasping the picnic basket more tightly, she surveyed her surroundings, then took a left down the hallway.
Her planned route was useless now and the longer it took to find the right floor, much less the right room, the more nervous she became. When she thought she’d finally found it, she ended up standing in a huge linen closet.
“Okay, take a breath,” she muttered to herself, inhaling the starchy scent of neatly folded sheets and pillowcases. Closing her eyes, she pictured the floor plans once more in her mind. If she was in the second floor linen closet, then she needed to take a right at the next hallway, then a left. That should lead her to the servants’ staircase at the back of the mansion.
As she hurried down the hallway, she found herself wondering what Michael would do when she stood him up at the bandstand. Would he be angry? Disappointed? If so, she knew it wouldn’t take him long to find another woman to take her place.
But Sarah didn’t want to think about that, not when she could still taste his champagne kiss on her lips and still remember the gentle way he’d touched her. That’s what surprised her the most—his gentleness. So at odds with his ruthless reputation.
Sarah turned a corner and was relieved to see the servants’ staircase directly in front of her. Quickly mounting the steps, she could only hope she didn’t run into a servant