A Glimpse of Fire

According to Tom, only he, Serena and Mrs. Webber knew about the joke. Everyone else thought she was a visiting friend of the Webbers’ absent daughter. Dallas stuck to the story, and curiosity generally died quickly.

Not Eric’s, though. His gaze often strayed in her direction, although to his credit, the woman beside him would never know he was distracted. He smiled and inclined his head toward her when she spoke, did all the courteous things expected of him.

Only Dallas knew his thoughts were about her, that more than curiosity burned in his eyes when they met hers. Every nerve ending in her body reacted. As if two live wires connected and sparked with each look.

She tried to avoid the contact. Pretended interest in a boring conversation with Serena about the upcoming Heart Ball and the local celebrities who’d be attending. But she was just as hopeless, her gaze drawing back to him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the generosity of his smile, as the woman kept him busy.

He looked at her suddenly as if he’d felt the weight of her stare. To her amazement, she didn’t look guiltily away. She held his gaze for a long, torturous moment, gave him a slow smile that invited all sorts of possibilities.

He wasn’t shy about returning the volley. His gaze wandered down the front of her dress, lingering just long enough on her breasts to remain respectful yet make her tingle all the way down to her toes.

She finally had to look away. Or end up in an embarrassing puddle on the floor. He had the most incredibly intense eyes. The eyes of a man who knew what he wanted and went after it with everything he had in his arsenal. The thought frightened her, fascinated her, and then she remembered that she had the power here. Anything that happened would be by her design. She was no Cinderella hoping to be swept off her feet, rescued from life’s drudgery.

Dallas’s life was just fine, with or without a man. Less reliance on the old vibrator might be nice for a change, but that didn’t mean she was willing to settle for just anyone. But Eric…well, he was looking like a pretty damn good substitute. Smart, attractive, successful, ambitious. Not that his view of success was important to her. In fact, her lack of interest in such matters was what put her at odds with her family.

But all that along with his standing in the business community made him a safe bet. At least for a couple of nights. What would it hurt? He didn’t even know who she was. Even if he tried to contact her through the store, Trudie was the only one who knew her and Trudie wouldn’t tell him anything. Trudie thought she was insane for doing this as it was.

Maybe she was crazy. This certainly wasn’t her style. Her gaze drew to Eric again. He’d been watching her. Her pulse skidded. She nearly dropped her fork. This was going to be one hell of a night.

HE HAD TO TALK TO HER AGAIN. Alone. Away from the party. The Baked Alaska dishes had been cleared from the table. Cognac had been served. People had begun milling around. In about a half an hour they would start leaving. He had to make his move.

If he could find her. She’d left the table five minutes ago. He’d tried to follow but gotten waylaid by Brian Sutter’s wife. Brian motioned for her a moment later, but Eric couldn’t get away before Eve Dinton ambushed him.

Tonight of all nights it seemed as if everyone had to talk to him. Normally he didn’t mind making polite conversation with his coworkers’ wives, but if he heard about another unfair Little League game or about the rising cost of produce, he’d jump off the…

“Hello again.”

Her feminine scent tickled his senses even before he turned to find her directly behind him. His attention immediately went to her glistening peach-tinted lips. They parted slightly and she drew back a step.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said almost in a whisper, and he realized he was just standing there. Staring. Speechless. Like an idiot.

“You didn’t.” He touched her arm when it looked as if she might take off. “Not at all.”

She smiled tentatively. “You seemed so deep in thought.”

“The truth is—” he lowered his voice “—I was thinking about the Webbers’ rooftop garden.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows drew together, and she hesitated, looking confused. “You like to garden?”

He laughed. “I was thinking about jumping off.”

Her eyes widened.

“This isn’t exactly my first choice for spending an evening.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Nice people.” He shrugged. “But I see most of them every day at the office.”

“Coworkers are kind of like family. You don’t choose them,” she said thoughtfully. “But you do have to make nice whether you like them or not.”

He snorted. “That’s debatable.”

She smiled. “You get a point for honesty.”

“Does that mean you’ll go someplace for a drink with me?”

“Leave here?”

“I know this bar right around the corner. It’s a nice place with piano music and—”

She’d started shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, “no problem.”

“I’d like to, really…”

“But?”

She glanced over at Tom and Serena still sitting at the table. “I just don’t think I should leave.”

“Tell you what, how about we take a couple of cognacs up to the garden?”

“On the roof?”

“Sure. It’s quiet. Great view of Central Park and Columbus Circle.”

She seemed reluctant though definitely interested. “Won’t the Webbers mind?”

“Not a bit.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

He smiled. “Actually I’ve only been up there once, when Mrs. Webber gave the grand tour a couple of years ago.”

She glanced at her watch. “I suppose it would be all right for a few minutes.”

“Then you turn into a pumpkin?”

Her lips curved in a mysterious smile. “Something like that.”

THE GARDEN AREA WASN’T LARGE. Dimly lit, about the size of a guest room, flowers grew everywhere. Red geraniums, white daisies and sprays of pink blossoms spilled from several barrel-size stone urns. A trellis leaning against the reddish brick was covered with tiny climbing white roses that perfumed the air with their seductive scent.

Beyond the decorative black wrought iron that surrounded the rooftop garden were the lights of Manhattan and the shadows of Central Park.

“What a fantastic view.” Hands gripping the rail, she leaned out, a gentle breeze blowing back her honey-blond hair, giving him an unobstructed view of her profile. The small, slightly upturned nose and skin that was remarkably flawless except for the scar.

Eric’s curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “How did you get that?”