Master of Passion

By the time they had finally finished the meal, Parisa had drunk four glasses of wine to Luc's two.

'Were you trying to get me drunk in there?' she asked gaily as he led her once more to the car.

'Would I do such a thing? Me, the model of decorum?' He pointed a finger at his broad chest with a woefully injured look on his attractive face.

'Yes, but I forgive you,' she chuckled, loving this much happier easy-going Luc.

Seated in the car, Luc turned to her, his expression oddly serious.

'You know what I like most about you?'

She looked across at him, surprised and secretly touched.

'What?' she asked, and her blue eyes were trapped by the dark gleam in Luc's.

'You don't allow anything to get in the way of your enjoyment. I blackmailed you into coming here. You could have made today terrible; instead I've enjoyed every minute. I cannot think of a single one of my acquaintances who would have been so obliging.'

The serious tone and the deepening gleam in his eyes was not something she wanted to recognize, she didn't dare.

'You obviously don't meet the right kind of people,' she said lightly to break the sudden tension, and, turning, she fiddled with her seatbelt.

Luc took it from her and deftly fastened it around her. 'You're probably right, ca a. But you can judge for yourself tonight.' He started the car and drove off. 'Almost every member of my family and a load of friends are coming to the party.'

Parisa made no reply. His reminder of just why she was in Italy and in his home pretending to be his fiancée was a dampening one. She had almost forgotten his less than savoury character in the delight of the day they had spent together. But now the thought of the evening ahead was a sobering one.

CHAPTER FIVE

Parisa was adding the finishing touch to her make-up. Damn! Her hand holding the lipstick wavered on her top lip, at the knock on the bedroom door.

Quickly blotting her mouth with tissue, she deftly applied the lipstick once again, and, satisfied with the result, she went to answer the door.

The sight of Luc, one arm propped against the door frame, his huge body leaning casually towards her, momentarily robbed her of breath. The jacket of his dinner suit hung open, revealing the white silk shirt pulled taut from his waist diagonally across his massive chest. A quick flush of colour flooded her face, intensifying as his appreciative gaze lazily surveyed her from head to toe, lingering slightly on the soft curve of her full breasts outlined by the strapless black velvet bodice of her gown.

'You look exquisite, Parisa. The dress is definitely you—a touch wild,' he said softly, and gently he lifted her chin. The eyes that looked down into hers were amused and something more she didn't recognise, but it made her pulse race.

She knew the dress was a mistake. 'Wild', he had said—not at all the image she wanted to present. Under her breath she cursed the impulse that had made her buy the evening gown in the closing-down sale of a small boutique in Brighton last year. At the time it had seemed too good a chance to miss. But now, with the wild strawberry taffeta skirt falling in flounces from the neat waist to end above her knees at the front and dipping to mid calf at the back, she realised her mistake.

But reason vanished as he stooped to press his lips against her brow. The kiss was so open and friendly, and yet she felt her body weakening, the musky male scent of him, mingling with some subtle cologne, acted like a powerful aphrodisiac on her senses, one that was to last the whole night through.

His dark velvet voice breathed softly against her ear. 'Ready to join the fray, my sweet fiancée?'

She could not stop the shiver that trembled through her but, gathering her scattered wits, she responded by holding out her hand, the brilliant blue-white stoned ring glittering like fire on her third finger.

'Yes, oh, master, and I have even remembered the prop,' she teased.

Half an hour later, with Luc's arm casually flung around her bare shoulder, his mother at his other side, he said,

'That is about it, ladies. We have greeted everyone, so now I think we can enjoy ourselves. Don't drink too much champagne, Mamma,' he teased, before taking Parisa in his arms and whirling her the few steps to the polished dance-floor with all the youthful exuberance of an overgrown schoolboy.

Laughing up at him, Parisa thought she had never seen a more devastatingly handsome man, and tonight he was hers... Just this once she would throw caution to the wind and enjoy herself, she vowed. A dreamy smile lingered on her soft lips as, with his hand at the base of her spine, and his other hand holding her much smaller one close to his heart, he slanted her an amused, self- satisfied grin before glancing around the elegant, crowded room.

'So far everything has worked perfectly, cara. My mother is thoroughly enjoying her birthday; she has never looked happier. At last she can talk endlessly with her cronies at what she thinks is a very real prospect of some grandchildren before long. As for my friends, they are all madly jealous because I have captured such a beautiful lady.' His dark eyes gleamed merrily down at her.

But I bet you feel a tiny bit guilty, Luc, tricking your mother?' Parisa asked with a twinge of shame, wondering for the first time how he would explain the quick ending of the engagement.

For an answer his arm moved and tightened around her slim waist, causing her to come into more intimate contact with his hard body.

'You know exactly how to prick my conscience, Parisa, and yet until a few days ago I would have sworn I didn't have a conscience.'