“Smitten.” The old-fashioned word struck her as odd coming from someone as masculine as Roark.
“Can you do smitten?”
Given the way her pulse fluttered in giddy delight every time he flashed his wolfish grin, she was pretty sure all she had to do was let nature take its course. “I guess.”
“Just follow my lead.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led the way into the building.
The urge to gape at the building’s opulent entry almost overpowered her nervousness about the dinner party. It wouldn’t do for her to act like some rustic just off the farm. She’d been in New York City since graduating from high school and had planned parties for many wealthy people. But she was about to step up to the big time. Any false move and she would have wasted her chance.
“How exactly are we going to break up?”
Roark shot her a wry glance. “We just started going out and you’re already thinking about how things are going to end?”
“A girl has to be practical.” So she claimed. Too bad she’d never been able to behave sensibly when it came to her love life.
“Why don’t you forget about being practical for a while?”
“Tempting.” She offered him a counterfeit smile. “But unrealistic. This is a business deal, remember?”
“I doubt I could forget with you reminding me every ten minutes,” he mused. They’d stopped before a door. “Can we discuss the demise of our relationship on the way home?”
“Of course.”
A woman in her early forties, wearing a maid’s uniform, opened the door for them. Elizabeth stepped through and slipped out of her best winter coat. Because Roark was using her to tone down his reputation as a ladies’ man, she wore a conservative wrap dress the color of claret.
With her hair’s natural wave flattened by a straight iron and her grandmother’s simple garnet drops dangling from her ears, Elizabeth knew she presented a classic, elegant picture.
“Absolutely beautiful,” Roark murmured as he placed his hand in the small of her back and escorted her toward the living room where the rest of the guests had gathered.
Their engagement might be a sham, but there was nothing phony about Roark’s flattering words or his affectionate tone. The chemistry between them was real. She felt the tug of it every time he took her hand or caressed her with his gaze.
Man, oh man, she was in trouble.
“Good evening, Roark. And this must be the woman who captured your heart. I can understand why. I’m George Cromwell.”
Elizabeth recognized the man from the wine auction, but doubted he’d remember her. She worked hard to be a ghost at the events she planned. Always around, but invisible to the guests.
“Elizabeth Minerva,” she said. “You have a lovely home.”
“My wife has exceptional taste. She picked me after all.” He laughed at his own joke. “Let me introduce you.”
By the time dinner was announced, Elizabeth had become way too conscious of her tall, handsome companion. He wouldn’t stop touching her. Simple brushes of his fingertips at her waist, his palm against the small of her back, his lips across her temple. Grazing contact that demonstrated his adoration for the benefit of all onlookers. If it had been any other man, Elizabeth would have endured it without a blip in her heart rate.
But Roark Black wasn’t any other man. He was dangerous, charismatic and intelligent. A lethal combination where her common sense was concerned.
“I just love the way you two can’t keep your eyes off each other,” murmured Elizabeth’s dinner companion. An elegant woman in her mid-fifties, she was on the board of several charities and had promised to call Elizabeth about upcoming events. “Roark is such a favorite of mine. I’m glad he found someone who makes him happy.”
Elizabeth smiled to hide her dismay. It was way too easy to act like a woman in love with Roark. Before tonight she’d believed him to be nothing more than a bad boy who charmed women and left a trail of loneliness behind him. But she’d watched him impress everyone with his wit and wry humor and realized there was more to Roark than what the papers printed. Had she taken on more than she could handle?
* * *
“That went well,” Roark commented as he handed her into the back of his black town car. “I think we managed to convince everyone that you’ve tamed me.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re mad if you think anyone believes you tamed.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Upon entering the car, he’d let his head fall back against the rich leather. Now, he glanced her way, his eyes sparkling. “But they all can see that I’ve been leashed by the power of my feelings for you.”
Despite the fact that his words were completely untrue, Elizabeth couldn’t stop the thrill they awakened. Her proclivity for bad boys had its roots in the fantasy that one day she’d meet one she could tame. It was a frustrating dilemma because she wasn’t at all attracted to the good guys. They were boring. So what happened if she tamed a bad boy? Would she grow bored?