High-Powered, Hot-Blooded

“There’s dancing,” she said.

“I thought dancing with me made you nervous.”

“Not anymore.”

Their eyes locked. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she was remembering the last time they’d made love. When he’d made her feel things she hadn’t known were possible and she accepted the fact that she was in love with him. No maybe, no almost. Just totally and completely in love with Duncan.

Fire flared in his gaze. She felt an answering heat in her belly.

“We don’t have to stay long,” he told her.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice teasing. “I was thinking we’d be here at least three or four hours.”

He drew her close. “Fifteen minutes, tops. Or we could get a room in the hotel. The suites have jetted tubs.”

“And you know this how?”

“Duncan?”

The person speaking his name had a low, sexy voice—the kind that belonged on radio. Annie turned and saw an incredibly tall, beautiful woman in a sexy black dress standing next to them. The woman smiled warmly, her blue eyes sparkling with delight.

“I was hoping to see you here,” she said in her throaty voice. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Duncan stiffened. Annie felt the tension fill his body as he turned toward the woman. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The smile never wavered. “I came to see you, Duncan.” The woman glanced at Annie. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

He hesitated, then released Annie’s hand. “Annie, this is Valentina. My ex-wife.”

Ten

After convincing Annie to give him a few minutes, Duncan stood in the private alcove off the main ballroom, his arms folded across his chest, watching the woman he’d once wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Valentina stood completely still, gazing at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You look good,” she said. “Time is such a bitch—always nicer to the men than the women.”

“Why are you here?” he asked bluntly. “And spare me the bullshit.”

The smile broadened. “There’s no one quite like you, Duncan. My mistake was in thinking I could replace you.”

“You mean do better? That was the point, wasn’t it? Move up the food chain.”

“Well, I suppose. I remarried, if that’s what you’re really asking. Eric was charming, easy to get along with.” She wrinkled her nose. “Boring. I thought being rich was the most important thing in the world. I thought it gave me power and made me feel safe. I was wrong.”

“Thanks for the update,” he said. “I need to get back to the party.”

“Wait, Duncan. Aren’t you even a little happy to see me?”

He stared into her catlike eyes, then dropped his gaze to the full mouth that had known how to take him from zero to sixty in less than a minute.

When she’d first left, he’d been devastated. He’d retreated into anger, had vowed revenge, had understood the primal fury of a man longing to lock up the woman he loved. To keep her from the world. When the anger had ceased to burn quite as brightly, humiliation had joined rage. The knowledge that she had betrayed him, that he had been a fool, had kept him up nights.

He’d loved her. She had promised him everything he’d ever wanted and he’d believed her. That she would love him forever, that they would always be together. That he was the one.

Over time he’d accepted that he had been a means to an end. He’d looked back on their relationship and had seen her for what she was. The anger had faded, the wounds healed. A few days after she’d left, his uncle had told him that the opposite of love wasn’t hate—it was indifference. Now, staring at the woman he’d once married, he knew that to be true.

“You don’t matter enough for me to have any emotion on the subject,” he said.

“Wow. Talk about honest. So you didn’t miss me at all?”

He thought about those long nights when he’d lain awake, staring at the ceiling. He would have sold his soul for her return. Good thing the devil had been busy making deals with other people at the time.

“I loved you,” he told her. “Having you leave hurt like a son of a bitch. So what? That was three years ago, Valentina. I’ve moved on.”