She was drop dead gorgeous. Beautiful.
Her skin was pale and flawless, the faint brush of colour on her cheeks simply emphasizing the perfect shape of her face. Her incredible violet eyes looked larger than ever and the subtle sheen of colour applied to her lips simply accentuated the tempting curve of her mouth.
Sebastian bit back a groan of lust as his eyes raked every delectable inch of her in unashamed masculine appreciation.
She shouldn’t have looked like that in the outfit he’d chosen.
She should have looked like a cheap tart. Instead she managed to look innocent and seductively feminine at the same time, although how a woman could contrive to look innocent in a skirt barely wider than a belt, he couldn’t imagine. Her slender legs went on for ever, the miniskirt skimmed her perfectly shaped bottom and the tiny top exposed a tantalizing stretch of feminine midriff. It was just tight enough to offer support to her full breasts and Sebastien’s body hardened in urgent and immediate response. For a brief but distinctly unsettling moment he struggled to remember why they had to leave the bedroom.
It was just as well he had a reliable team of bodyguards, he reflected grimly as he wrestled his emotions under control, because otherwise he’d have trouble keeping people away from her. Men away from her.
Sebastien ground his teeth, astonished by how possessive he felt over a woman he didn’t even like.
‘You insisted on this outfit so you can stop staring,’ she said stiffly, ‘and I probably ought to warn you that I’m not used to walking in heels this high, so unless you want me to break an ankle I’m gong to have to hold your arm.’
Taken aback by her candid admission that she’d rarely worn heels before and mentally adding that muttered confession to a growing list of facts that just didn’t add up, Sebastien frowned as he felt her hand slide over his biceps.
‘It’s hold you or fall over. Otherwise, believe me, I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole. I hope you’re well insured,’ she muttered, stooping with a pained frown and sliding a finger along the strap. ‘If I tread on anyone’s foot while I’m dancing in these I’m going to cause serious damage.’
He gritted his teeth and refrained from pointing out that she wouldn’t be dancing with anyone but him. Not given to making mistakes, Sebastien was forced to admit that in this case he’d made a serious error of judgement.
He’d intended her to dress like a tart to remind him of the woman she really was, because he was finding those huge eyes and that innocent expression profoundly distracting. Instead he’d turned her into nothing short of a walking temptation.
Staring down into her beautiful face, he suddenly realized that the glow of almost childlike innocence came from inside her. Nothing she wore would ever make her look cheap because she just exuded class.
A well-disguised gold-digger, he reminded himself grimly, reaching for his jacket and striding towards the door.
No matter how stunning she was or how exciting his new wife was in bed, there was no way that he’d be forgetting what had brought her there in the first place.
His money.
In the back of the limousine Alesia felt the slide of expensive leather under her bare thighs and stared down at her glamorously shod feet with almost childish fascination. A bubble of laughter threatened to erupt inside her and she struggled to hold it back. She just loved the shoes. They were sexy and glamorous and totally frivolous and she’d never owned anything frivolous before in her life. And she loved the clothes. And the make-up. She’d never had the money to spend on cosmetics before so she had absolutely no experience of applying them, which was why she’d taken so long in the bathroom.
After the first effort she’d looked like a clown, and after the second she’d managed to look as though she had a cold. Finally, after her face had been given time to settle down from all the washing and scrubbing, she’d managed to master the art of subtle enhancement and she’d been delighted with the result. And, although she felt hideously self-conscious in such revealing clothes, she also felt beautiful. Was this what it was like to be seriously rich? She wrapped one long leg over the other and felt a flash of satisfaction as she saw Sebastien’s molten gaze settle on the length of thigh exposed by the ridiculous skirt.
He wanted her.
She resisted the temptation to smile and smile. He might loathe and despise her but he definitely wanted her. And he might pretend to be ultra cool about it, but surely no man could spend six hours in bed with a woman if he were as bored and indifferent as he pretended to be?
Lost in her own private thoughts, a sudden flash of light in her face made her jump and she gave a gasp and shrank back in her seat while Sebastien gave a soft curse.