Innocent in Her Enemy’s Bed

“Did he tell you a joke?” He hated himself for wanting to know.

“Hmm? Oh. No.” Her expression softened. “His niece and nephew are characters. I enjoy hearing about them. This yacht is beautiful.” She quickly changed the subject and set aside the plate she was holding. “I can see why you like to host parties here.”

“I like it because it forces people to show up on time or miss departure. The sunset waits for no one. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said automatically, as though she thought he was only saying what was expected and she was returning in kind. He meant it, though. He could hardly take his eyes off her.

“I got your report,” he said, wondering if that would make her look at him.

“Good.” She smiled at the server who brought his scotch and requested a glass of wine.

“I took all the same tests today,” Leander informed her as the server moved out of earshot. “Most of the results will take a few days, but they were able to tell me right away that I’m not pregnant.”

“Reassuring,” she said without inflection, but her lips twitched. She glanced away to hide it.

The most ridiculous tickle of triumph spread through his chest.

They didn’t have time for any more banter. Guests were arriving.

They had kept the party semiformal and small enough that it felt exclusive. “Small” was still a hundred guests. Once underway, Leander circulated with Ilona through the various saloons and outer decks, accepting congratulations and making small talk.

It would have been boring as hell, but he was fascinated, watching her navigate the different social connections. Her manners were impeccable and she was charming in a way that kept all the focus on their guests. She was incredibly good at deflecting while revealing very little about herself. It made him feel privileged to know that tiny bit more about her than she allowed anyone else to see, even though it was only a microscopic amount.

He reacted to her presence beside him, too. The crush of people had her standing close enough that her body heat radiated into his while the cobweb weight of her skirt fluttered against his pant leg. His ring glittered on her finger when she dragged a wisp of hair behind her ear and a caterer passed close enough behind them that Leander protectively set his hand on her lower back to ensure she didn’t bump into the tray of drinks.

A soft pink flush touched her cheeks and her lashes lifted in question.

The noise fell away and the crackling awareness between them intensified. His hand was still on her back and his thumb moved in a restless caress. He had the nearly irresistible urge to draw her into an embrace.

“Ilona. I thought your family would be here.” A middle-aged woman with zero sense of timing broke into their moment with an abrasive, “I was looking for Odessa.”

There was a brief, hunted flash behind Ilona’s eyes before she adopted her serene, welcoming expression.

“Leander, do you know Mira and Theodore? Mira lunches with my stepmother.”

“Theodore and I are well acquainted,” Leander said, shaking the husband’s hand. It was clammy with sweat. “My mother couldn’t make it, either,” Leander added as an explanation for neglecting to invite anyone with the name Pagonis.

“I thought we had a scheduling conflict ourselves,” Mira said through a pinched mouth. “But Theodore made it happen.” That curled lip wasn’t a smile.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Theodore assured Leander as he swept his handkerchief across his beaded forehead. “Congratulations to both of you. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

“I’m sure we will. And I’m glad we were able to clear up our own scheduling conflict with your project,” Leander said magnanimously.

“Yes, yes. Excellent news.” Theodore shot a warning glare at his wife as she made a sour noise.

“We’re in demand tonight. Excuse us,” Leander said.

“Enjoy your party,” Theodore said behind them.

“She looks like she’d rather jump overboard,” Ilona murmured as they moved away.

“She’s welcome to,” Leander retorted.

Ilona stifled a snort and shot a laughter-filled look up at him.

He bit back his own grin and set his hand on her waist again, liking the supple feel of her and the way all those feminine fragrances rose off her hair and skin to tantalize him.

“Let’s see if we can find someone we can stand.” He brought her to a business partner who had since become a friend, Mikolas, and his wife, Viveka. Viveka was an artist and very eager to tell Ilona how much she loved her products.