‘Ready.’ I think. ‘Welcome to the limelight.’
The cameras were clicking so much it sounded like a round of military gunfire. And a journalist surged forward to thrust a recording device near Abby. ‘Everyone is dying to know who your Mr Perfect is. Will you introduce him to us?’
Abby smiled at the journalist. ‘Sure—this is my fiancé Luke—’
‘Hey—aren’t you Luke Shelverton? From Shelverton Robotics?’ another male journalist asked. ‘You’re the guy who designed that amazing technology that’s revolutionised complex neurosurgery all around the world.’
Luke accepted the accolade with an on-off smile that didn’t show his teeth. ‘That’s correct.’
‘When are you two planning to get married?’ the female journalist asked. ‘Will we be hearing wedding bells this summer?’
Abby was still trying to think of something to say when Luke got in first. ‘We’re keeping the date a secret for privacy reasons,’ he said.
‘Do you have any dating advice from a man’s perspective?’ the male journalist asked.
‘Just be yourself,’ Luke said and began to lead Abby towards the entrance of the hotel.
But the first female journalist wasn’t finished. ‘What about some romance tips from London’s most romantic man?’
Luke’s fingers tightened on Abby’s hand in an I’ll-get-you-for-this-later gesture but he looked the female journalist straight in the eye. ‘Look into her eyes when she’s talking to you. Listen to her.’
‘I’m going to use that in my next column,’ Abby said when they finally got away from the press. ‘Everyone is so busy on their phones these days no one ever looks at you when they’re talking to you.’
‘You owe me, young lady,’ Luke said in an undertone.
Abby gave him a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry about that. But hey, I thought you did a brilliant job. You seriously could have your own column.’
He gave her the side eye. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
Abby was thinking about lots of stuff. Like how warm and strong his arm felt around her waist. How the slightest movement of his fingers against hers sent an erotic charge right through her body and straight to her core. How when his eyes held hers something unravelled deep in her belly, like a ball of string let loose down a steep staircase.
And that kiss.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Her lips hadn’t stopped tingling from it. How could a mouth that never smiled pack such a passionate punch? Her mouth would never be the same. It was permanently branded with the heat of Luke’s kiss. Searing heat. Blistering heat. Heat that made her body shudder with excitement. She looked at his mouth and noticed a tiny smear from her shimmery lip-gloss was next to his top lip. She stepped up on tiptoe and lifted her hand and wiped it away. ‘Oops, lip-gloss. All gone now.’
His eyes were as dark as sapphires, holding hers in a sensual lock as if he were mentally replaying every pulse-racing second of their kiss. His gaze went to her mouth, resting there for a thrumming beat before returning to her eyes. ‘Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?’
‘No, but—’
‘You look dazzlingly beautiful,’ Luke said. ‘There isn’t a man here who isn’t wishing he could swap places with me right now.’
Abby knew he was only saying that because of the other guests close by. Of course, as her fiancé he would be expected to say nice things. Wonderful things. Things no one had ever told her before. He was acting a role and doing a damn fine job of it. But oh, how fabulous it would be if he really did mean them. When had anyone ever called her beautiful? She hadn’t even been called pretty or becoming. She hadn’t even been given the girl-next-door tag. She was bland. Unnoticeable. But how cool if he really thought her the most beautiful woman at the ball, just like Cinderella.
You are seriously out of your mind.
I know, I know. But he sounded so genuine.
‘Thank you.’ Abby smiled. ‘But I’m not sure if I’ll be able to eat anything while wearing this dress. My zip might not be able to take it.’
‘Abby!’ Felicity Kirby, her chief editor, came over in a cloud of exotic perfume and proceeded to air kiss Abby’s cheeks. ‘I’m literally gagging to meet your gorgeous Mr Perfect.’ She beamed up at Luke and thrust out her hand. ‘We would love to do an interview with you as soon as it can be arranged. Your work is absolutely amazing. I have a friend of a friend whose life was saved because of the tiny robotic surgical arm you designed for her brain surgery. I’ll get one of my staff to contact you. Abby will give me your details and we’ll—’