Millionaire's Woman

It was as the floor show ended and coffee arrived at the table that Cory noticed the look on David Blackwell’s face. Everyone was laughing at something Nick had said, their amusement ably enhanced by the amount of very fine champagne which had been consumed, and David, who had just been to the men’s cloakroom, was within a few feet of the table when she happened to glance his way. His bitter expression shocked her before he became aware of her gaze and immediately stitched a smile in place.

What was all that about? Cory asked herself, returning David’s smile briefly before she turned back to Martin on her right as the older man spoke to her. What axe was David Blackwell grinding that made him so full of resentment towards Nick? And then she shrugged the thought away, telling herself it was none of her business and that it didn’t matter anyway. After tonight she wouldn’t see any of them again, including Nick, so any problem or disputes between Nick and David were unimportant to her. She was here to fulfil an obligation, that was all.

As though Nick had been aware of her thoughts, he now reached out a hand and covered one of hers where it was resting on her wineglass. ‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asked softly as her startled gaze met his. ‘In spite of the reason you agreed to come?’

His flesh was warm and firm and a thousand little pinpricks shot out through her nerves at his touch. Ridiculous, she told herself. Ridiculous to react like this to a man you don’t know and have no particular wish to know either. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she returned politely, slipping her hand away from under his on the pretext of reaching for her napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth.

‘Good.’ If he had noticed her withdrawal he didn’t comment on it. ‘Let’s dance.’

‘What?’

Before she’d had a chance to protest he had drawn her to her feet, his cool smile washing over the others as he said, ‘The night’s young, folks. Enjoy it.’

Before she knew where she was Cory found herself in his arms on the dance floor. There were only a few couples taking advantage of the slow, easy number the jazz combo were playing, but it wasn’t that which had caused the sudden tension radiating through every nerve and sinew. His body was hard and strong, and held close to him like this his height was emphasised, making her feel fragile and feminine. It was a nice feeling. And she didn’t want to have nice feelings around Nick Morgan. Neither did she want to acknowledge what the sensual scent of his aftershave was doing to her equilibrium.

She lifted her head, determined to say something to break the curiously intimate spell which seemed to have woven itself around them. His eyes were waiting for her, their blueness riveting, and causing the words to die in her throat as his body betrayed what her closeness was doing to him. ‘You’re one beautiful, sexy woman, Cory James,’ he murmured huskily.

A tingle of excitement fluttered over her skin. It was a warning and she knew it. William had said all the right things and before she’d known it she’d been in way over her head. She was never going to let that happen again. ‘It’s the dress,’ she said, carefully and deliberately, forcing a flatness into her tone. ‘Not me.’

He continued to look down at her and she prayed the trembling which had begun in her stomach wouldn’t transfer itself to the rest of her body. The incredible width of his shoulders, the male squareness of his chin enhanced by the merest cleft and the ruggedness of the handsome face all proclaimed a virile masculinity which was overwhelming.

‘No, it’s not the dress,’ he said softly, his eyes dark and intense. ‘Although it’s stunning.’

Stunning it might be but she regretted wearing it right now. No, no she didn’t, she qualified in the next moment. She wanted to look sexy and beautiful to him. But then again it was the last thing she wanted. Which didn’t make sense…Their gazes were still locked and she forced herself to break it, pulling back a little and glancing round the room as she said, ‘It’s a present, the dress. I didn’t have anything remotely good enough for this place.’ Suddenly the need to make him see they were poles apart was paramount.

‘Who from?’

‘What?’ She glanced at him again.

‘A present from whom?’ he asked quietly, a look on his face now that Cory couldn’t quite pin down.

‘Oh, my Aunt Joan.’ The music had changed and now a livelier number had drawn more people on to the dance floor. Cory noticed they were the only couple still entwined but when she tried to disentangle herself from his arms they merely tightened.

‘Your Aunt Joan.’ His face had cleared. ‘Not an admirer then?’

‘An admirer?’ She stared at him, mingled surprise and outrage vying for first place. ‘Of course not. As if I’d accept a present like this from a man.’

‘It happens.’ His voice was dry.

‘Not with me it doesn’t.’ She glared at him.

‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’

He was laughing at her! Oh, not openly, but she knew amusement was there in the tone of his voice and the way the firm, hard mouth was trying not to smile. ‘You can let go of me for this dance,’ she said frostily.

‘Perhaps I don’t want to let you go.’

‘People are looking.’

‘Let them look.’ He bent his head and skimmed her mouth with his lips. ‘There, that’ll give them something to talk about,’ he said evenly.

For one giddy instant the room swam. The caress had been too fleeting to be called a kiss but she’d felt the contact right down to her Covent Garden shod toes. She blinked. ‘Don’t do that, please,’ she said as firmly as her breathing would allow. ‘It’s not in the agreement.’

‘We didn’t discuss the finer points, if I remember correctly.’

Cory ignored the little flame that had been ignited deep inside and frowned at him. ‘Perhaps because I thought it wasn’t necessary and that you were a gentleman.’

He grinned, completely unabashed. ‘Big mistake,’ he said cheerfully.