The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta

Ruiz confirmed this when he introduced them. ‘Holly, I’d like you to meet an old friend and adversary of mine—’

‘Not so much of the old, please,’ Gabriel insisted with his gaze still trained on Holly. ‘Though I won’t argue about our adversarial tendencies.’

‘Gabriel,’ Holly said politely, hoping she wouldn’t get her hand scorched off when she shook his hand. Was there a whole contingent of stunning South Americans living in London? Holly wondered as more, equally striking men joined their group.

‘Polo players,’ Ruiz explained, slipping out of Portuguese with Gabriel into Spanish with some of the others. ‘My apologies, Holly,’ he added politely. ‘We will speak only English now,’ Ruiz instructed his friends.

Polo players? She would never have guessed, Holly mused wryly, taking in the muscular physiques. All the men looked like athletes and none of them was afraid of staring her straight in the eyes. She wasn’t used to such forthright i

nspection and felt her cheeks fire red. And then Ruiz introduced her by explaining that Holly was an agony aunt, which only brought a fresh blood-rush to her cheeks.

‘Holly doesn’t look much like your auntie to me,’ Gabriel commented dryly.

‘If you need any help or advice, Holly, don’t hesitate to call me,’ another man drawled.

‘Enough,’ Ruiz commanded good-humouredly. To Holly’s further amazement, he then placed a protective arm around her shoulders. ‘You’ll have Holly believing all South Americans are best avoided by respectable women.’

‘Respectable women?’ Gabriel commented in a low drawl. ‘Now there’s a rare breed. You must allow me to offer you the hospitality of my club,’ Gabriel added, switching his amused, worldly stare from Holly’s face to Ruiz. ‘At least for the first part of your evening. The rest of the night is up, to you my friends.’

‘That’s enough, Gabe.’ Ruiz cautioned his friend in a low voice in a way that made Holly feel unusually protected.

Not a bad feeling, she concluded, if one she was unused to. Ruiz leaping to her defence was surprise enough, but seeing how quickly the other men backed off when he told them to communicated a lot about Ruiz. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly when they were alone again.

‘For what?’ Ruiz demanded.

‘I think you know,’ she said.

CHAPTER SIX

Playing with fire and the consequences thereof. Someone once told me that dancing is one of the few things we humans do in perfect rhythm with a partner, and that the other notable activity, more often than not, follows afterwards.

Fat chance, is all I can say.

Oh, and I would write at greater length, but tapping away under the table while the playboy briefly chats with more admirers doesn’t give me much chance to wax lyrical. I can only say that the consequences of the gawkiest redhead in town attending the hottest club in town with the sexiest man in town, steeling herself to dance the hottest dance on the planet with a man born to move in rhythm with a partner, should give you a laugh—

HER next column would be one heck of a read, Holly concluded as Ruiz led her onto the dance floor. Seeing him here outside an environment they shared was interesting. She liked him better if anything. The respect Ruiz attracted from the other men was a measure of him, and although she was the clumsiest thing on two feet she felt confident Ruiz would never laugh at her or put her down the way her ex had. She only had to see him with his friends to know Ruiz was all about making people feel good.

‘Please excuse my friends,’ he said as if he had picked up on her thoughts. ‘Waiting for the polo season to get underway frustrates them. I’m afraid they’re suffering an overdose of testosterone without the opportunity to work it off.’

‘I’m really not that sensitive.’

‘In the workplace? I would agree with you,’ he said. ‘But personally … I’m not so sure.’

‘They really didn’t upset me,’ Holly stressed. ‘So you can relax.’

‘If you ask me to …’

As his lips tugged she shivered with awareness. What was the female equivalent of Ruiz’s friends’ problem? Pheromone-frenzy? Whatever it might be she had it bad.

‘We’re all impatient for the polo season to start, Holly,’ Ruiz confided, drawing her gaze back to his strong, dark face.

Her name sounded so exotic on Ruiz’s lips it must be way past the time to steer her thoughts onto safer ground. ‘You must miss polo and Argentina very much.’

‘I miss my brothers more than the game. I even miss that wretched sister of mine,’ Ruiz admitted wryly. ‘I miss the space and the wild free gallops,’ he added, drawing her close, fortunately so engaged in his own thoughts Ruiz missed her sharp intake of breath as she collided with his hard body. ‘And I miss the warmth of the people.’

There was quite a lot of warmth going on here too, Holly thought as Ruiz pressed against her, but then she noticed he was staring over her head at nothing in particular, as if his thoughts were somewhere else, far away. But when the music started to play and his hand found hers she thrilled at the warmth of his touch. He moved gently at first, easing her into the dance, his confident movements in perfect timing with the beat of the music. He held her so lightly, and yet the music seemed to flow from him to her so that even Holly’s awkward body responded perfectly. She was infected by the rhythm, and by Ruiz, Holly concluded, and by the sense that on a cold winter’s night there was nowhere else on earth she would rather be than dancing the samba in Ruiz’s arms.

Had she gone completely mad?