Dressed to Thrill

‘Anyway, I’m sure Angelica will catch up with you later. It’s been…interesting.’

He leant a hand on her shoulder and leaned down for the obligatory goodbye cheek-kiss. He could smell product—perfume, hairspray, cosmetics. He touched smooth skin. He felt the swell of her fabulous rack press against him. He let his lips linger for a second too long to be strictly platonic. His fingers closed more tightly over her shoulder and he curled his other arm round her waist, drawing her closer into him. He felt a strong urge to grab her by the bottom and scoop her against him. Her body was soft and nestled perfectly, and he moved his lips to her other cheek. But her lips were in the way, so he placed his kiss there. Just one.

She. Was. So. Hot.

Her eyes, when he stepped back, flew open. They were searching. Almost innocent. And again he got the feeling that she was a better actress than she got credit for. Still, it wasn’t his business to stay and find out.

‘Yes, it was…lovely to meet you.’ She seemed out of breath and hitched back on her heels in a stumble.

He steadied her elbow.

‘Don’t you think we should wait here? I’m sure she won’t be long.’

‘No. Much as I’m tempted, I’m beginning to think there’s something up. So—as I said—have fun, take care.’

He whipped out his phone and called for the car. Disappeared into the crowd, eyes on the alert. This night had tested his patience long enough.

TWO (#ulink_353720fc-b606-56f2-a103-5fbccc7e5e6a)

In a few seconds the party would begin to reconfigure itself. Blaring noise, pulsing lights, skin, smiles and wild-eyed stares.

What on earth had just happened there?

Tara reached out and gripped the table, her fingers closing round the sticky mess of spilt drinks. Michael’s back was just disappearing into the crowd and she needed to go after him. But she was still reeling from that kiss—it hadn’t even been a proper kiss, just a lip-press. But man alive, he’d aced it!

‘Hey, Tara—you wan’ a drink?’

Definitely—but she had work to do first. She needed to lasso Mr Wonderful and keep him occupied until she got the all-clear.

‘Be back later, Jonny,’ she murmured to her DJ friend, who had just packed up his vinyl. The same friend she had been texting like fury to make sure he hung around after his set—he was the best party animal she knew, but she was going to have to put him on ice for just a little while longer.

She checked her phone as she started the sticky trail through the club. Her foot connected with a shot glass and sent it spinning onto the dance floor—exactly what she should be doing.

Her phone buzzed. Another message.

Michael’s waiting for you at the car. I’ve told him I’m on my way separately with a couple of friends. I’ll drop Fern at mine first, then meet you at his place. Thanks so much for keeping my brother occupied. Hugs, Angelica.

Hugs? Who needed hugs? Fizz! Party! That was what she really wanted. But they were such nice women and—what the hell?—it wouldn’t kill her to miss an hour or so. Actually, it might kill her—walking right into the lion’s den without a stun gun. Guys who looked like that, kissed like that and, even worse, acted like that, were not part of her daily grind. She would need two layers of Kevlar at least.

The car would be out front. She’d have to pass another load of snappers—if they were bothering to stay up. She quickened her pace out onto the stairwell and tottered down carefully. The last thing she wanted was a jpeg of her landing in a heap at his feet.

But it was the slap of the pre-dawn grey-blue light and fresh air that hit her skin. That and the now familiar sight of a super-fit guy in a perfectly cut suit, lolling—yes, actually lolling—against a car that was…large and low and sleek. And he was killing the whole look—she had to hand it to him.

Michael looked at her. He raised one eyebrow. Opened the door and gestured her in. Now, that just riled her all over again. What was wrong with a few manners? She wasn’t asking for anything more than a hello, or a please and thank you. He just couldn’t seem to treat women as anything other than little pets to train and reward. But he was way off if he thought she would roll over like a puppy. After witnessing years of fear and subservience she had honed her bark and her bite to perfection.

‘I’m not stalking you. I said I would come along to catch up with Angelica for a little while. OK?’

‘You’re invited. Happy to escort you.’

He was looking over her head—checking out who was watching.

‘Embarrassed to be seen with me?’

He did a perfect mock gasp through his perfect teeth. Smirked. ‘Now who’s defensive?’

‘Not defensive…’ she said, bending into the car and knocking the top of her damn hair on the doorframe.

He slung himself inside after her and she scooted further along the seat. The backs of her thighs felt the cool of the leather, but the heat from his left leg where it sat open, relaxed and rock-hard, seeped right across the inch or so of space between them. She couldn’t keep her eyes off it.

‘Just perceptive.’

He cocked her a look, his arm stretched across the back of the seat and his hand just lying on his other thigh. The car started up and she noted other taxis and cars for a moment. Coming and going. And she was going further away from the club—her home away from home.

‘You’re perceiving too much, then. There’s no subtext—I’m out tonight to spend time with my sister. We don’t see a lot of each other at the moment—she’s mainly in London and I’m mainly in Barcelona, for Fern’s school and business. So…’

He looked at her for a long moment and she nearly had to look away—his gaze was that intense.

‘I’m here for them. Always.’ Finally he drew his eyes from her and stared out of the window. ‘But Angelica has her London circle, so it’s all cool. She’ll catch us up.’

He turned back round, actually shifted his leg up a bit on the seat until it was pressing against hers. She moved back, crossed her legs, stared straight ahead. He had turned that intense look back on her.

‘No, I’m definitely not embarrassed to be seen with you.’

She flicked her eyes and couldn’t help but twist him a little smile. She should know better, but he was a work of art. Maybe not her type—but undeniably attractive, and undeniably good at working women. Thank goodness she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for him.

‘That’s such a relief.’

He laughed. ‘You don’t look relieved. You look uptight and anxious.’

She felt that—and worse. She’d had—what? Three glasses of champagne over three hours? At the party of the season? And now she was in what might as well have been a hearse, heading to a party for two that neither of them wanted to attend.

‘I’ll cope.’

‘Sure you will. You’re hard as nails. You can cope with anything.’

She spun round to see him watching her. Baiting her.

‘Anything you could throw at me, that’s for sure.’

His eyes lit up. His smile tilted and as the car sped along and the lights from outside brightened, then dimmed, then brightened, she saw his wicked, wicked mouth mock her. She saw it and she felt it. That same heavy tension she’d sensed twice around him now. She had to get a grip—it was beginning to feel as if her comfort zone was somewhere about two miles back. Where her immunity to men was second nature—normally.

‘You’re a very interesting person, Tara.’

It felt as if he had put his hand on her jaw, turned her to face him, but his hands were in plain view and it was some deep, feminine instinct that had her moulding herself to his will. Thankfully she was ruled by her head and not by her gut. Fortunately she could remember how to deal with very persuasive men…

She turned away, saw the back of the driver’s head. Noted his eyes flick to hers in the mirror. He probably saw scenes like this every night of his life. What a shame she wasn’t going to oblige this evening.

‘So I’m told.’