Exotic Nights

ere summarily dispatched, and then the man turned around to face Angel. Words dropped into her head but made no sense. He was so downright intimidating in an exquisite tuxedo that shock was rendering her speechless, breathless and motionless.

He calmly took the now empty tray from her hand and passed it to another waiter. The mess from the fallen drinks was already being cleared up. Angel would have protested that she should look after it, if she could have spoken.

Everyone else in the immediate vicinity seemed to melt away, and with a light, yet commanding touch from his hand on her arm Angel felt herself being manoeuvred across the room, until they’d walked through a set of open patio doors and out to the blessed quiet of the grand terrace.

The cool and fragrant evening air curled around Angel like a caress, but she felt hot, right down to her very core. Hot from embarrassment and hot from where this man’s big hand was curled around her upper arm. They came to a stop beside a low wall, beyond which a pristine lawn sloped gently downwards and off into the distance.

Silence surrounded them, thick and heavy, the muted sounds of the party coming from behind the closed patio doors. Had he closed the doors? The thought of him doing that to give them privacy made her shiver. She looked up, and with a disconcerting amount of effort pulled her arm free from his light, yet devastating grip. He smiled down at her, putting his hands in his pockets, and he looked so rakishly handsome that Angel felt weak all over again. Hair that had been slicked back with water was now thick and glossy, a little over-long.

‘So … we meet again.’

Angel forced her brain to retain a small sliver of sanity, but no matter how much she wanted it to, she feared her voice wouldn’t come out as cool as she hoped for. ‘I’m sorry … you must think me an awful klutz. I’m not normally so clumsy. Thank you for …’ She gestured to the room, thinking of the red stain spreading over the woman’s white dress again and feeling sick. ‘For defusing the situation, but I don’t think my boss will forgive me for it. That dress looked like it was worth about a year’s worth of my wages.’

He took a hand out of his pocket and waved it nonchalantly. ‘Consider it taken care of. I saw what happened, it was an accident.’

Angel gasped. ‘I can’t let you do a thing like that. I don’t even know you.’ His insouciance and casual display of wealth made something cold lodge in her chest. It was a rejection from deep within her of this whole social scene. She’d grown up with it and it reminded her too much of the darkness in her own family.

His eyes glinted with something dangerous. ‘On the contrary, I’d say that we’re well on the way to becoming … acquainted.’

An electric current seemed to spring into action in that moment. The man moved closer to Angel, closing the small distance between them, and the breath lodged in her throat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. His eyes held hers, and for the second time that day she noted the way they seemed to burn with a golden light.

He lifted a hand and trailed his finger down one cheek to the delicate line of her jaw. It left a line of tingling fire in its wake.

‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.’

The something cold that had lodged in Angel’s chest melted. ‘You … haven’t?’

He shook his head. ‘Or your mouth.’

‘My mouth …’ Angel repeated stupidly. Her gaze dropped to his mouth then, and she saw once again the jagged line of the scar extending from his upper lip. She had the strongest desire to reach up and trace it with a finger, so strong that she shook.

‘Are you thinking about what it would feel like if my mouth was to touch yours right now?’

Angel’s gaze flew up and clashed with pure molten golden heat. An answering heat invaded her lower body. She felt the urge to clamp her legs together, as if that might calm the disturbing ache building up there.

Before she could answer, or articulate a response, his hand had cupped her jaw and cheek, and suddenly there was no distance between them, only him, so tall and close that he blocked out the sky, and his head was descending, coming nearer and nearer.

He smelt musky and hot. It was something so earthy that Angel could feel the response being tugged from down low in her belly, as if she recognised it on some primitive level. Dimly she wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about animal attraction.

Desperately trying to cling onto something, anything rational, Angel brought a hand up to cover his, to pull it down, to stop him, to say no … But then his mouth was so close that she could feel his breath feather there, mingling with hers. Her mouth tingled. She wanted … she wanted—

‘Sir?’

Angel wanted his mouth on hers so badly that she made a telling move closer–

‘Mr Parnassus … sir?’

Angel’s eyes had been fluttering closed, but suddenly flew open again. Their mouths were just about touching. If Angel was to put out her tongue she’d be able to explore his lips, their shape and texture. And then the name that had just been uttered exploded into her consciousness properly.

Mr Parnassus.

Reality slammed back, and the cacophony of the party rushed out to meet them through open doors. Angel was barely aware of pulling his hand down and moving back. Shock was starting to spread through her entire body. Someone else came out to the patio then. The butler who had been standing there—for how long?—melted away discreetly. The new arrival was the host’s wife, Olympia Parnassus. Angel knew this because she’d given all the waiting staff a pep talk in the kitchen earlier.

‘Leo, darling, your father is looking for you, it’s almost time for the speech.’

In a smooth move, Angel realised that she’d been effectively shielded from view. She felt more than heard the deep rumble of response.

‘Give me two minutes here, Olympia.’