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ssion was tantamount to heresy from a dedicated social climber like Merrilyn, and Rachel registered a surge of alarm.
She reappraised him. ‘He looks quite steady on his feet to me.’
‘Trust me, he disguises it well, but he’s on the brink of being bombed out of his skull,’ said Merrilyn grimly. Once, on the massage table after one of their sessions in the gym, she had confided to Rachel that her brother was an alcoholic. ‘And another thing—he’s turned up solo! He was supposed be coming with Cheryl-Ann Harding. I’ve spent a fortune on the table settings—if his girlfriend’s not here it’s going to wreck the symmetry!’
‘His girlfriend?’ Rachel was startled. ‘I thought he was married?’ She had noticed the plain gold band he wore on his left hand.
‘He was…Oh, hell, what’s he going to do now?’ Merrilyn was distracted by the sight of the ruffled young matron being hustled away by her stiff-jawed escort. ‘If Cheryl-Ann isn’t here he’s going to be roaming around like a loose cannon all night,’ she muttered. ‘They’ve been going out for yonks—it’s common knowledge that Matthew’s father is putting on the pressure for him to get married again, and everyone agrees they’d make a perfect couple. If they’ve had an argument, why on earth couldn’t they have saved it until after my party?’
She planted a hand in the small of Rachel’s back, propelling her forward. ‘Quick! Let’s get over there while he’s still by himself and see if you can keep him diverted long enough to sober him up for dinner.’
Rachel almost stumbled over her white slingbacks. ‘Me?’
‘Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To mix and mingle and stop minor problems escalating into major embarrassments?’ declared Merrilyn. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here, Rachel. I’m so glad you persuaded me to go with Westons rather than some other firm. You’re right, it’s so much better having someone I know handling potentially sensitive matters like these. I’ll be sure and tell all my friends what a classy personal protection service you run!’
Sensing she was overdoing the gushing flattery, she altered her tone to a panicky plea. ‘Look, just stick to him like glue and do what you can to cover for him, OK? And be discreet! The fewer people who realise what’s going on, the better.’
‘Why don’t you just politely ask him to leave?’ murmured Rachel as they approached their target.
‘Throw him out?’ Are you mad?’ Merrilyn’s whisper was scandalised. ‘He’s one of my most important guests. It would be social suicide!’
She raised her voice on a fluttering laugh. ‘Matthew! Look who I’ve brought to see you! I know I don’t have to introduce you two—Rachel was just telling me she thinks you’re the most intelligent and articulate man she’s ever met!’
He had been topping up his own glass, and now he tucked the champagne bottle under the potted plant at his elbow with a casual disregard for his surroundings which made Rachel blink.
‘Really? How delightfully flattering of her.’
He held out his hand, and although Rachel mistrusted his honeyed drawl, allied as it was with a mocking disbelief in the dark brown eyes, she automatically reciprocated. But instead of the cool, impersonal shake he had delivered when they had been first introduced to each other in his office, he raised her hand to his mouth and placed a string of tiny kisses across her long fingers, letting her feel the faint sting of his teeth.
‘I shall endeavour to return the favour.’ Bowed over her hand, his eyes were licensed to rove, and made the most of their freedom. ‘Your breasts are truly in magnificent form this evening, Miss Blair,’ he purred. ‘What a pity they’re so much more impressive than your IQ—but I suppose a woman can’t have everything.’
Hearing Merrilyn’s choked whimper of horror, Rachel gulped down her shock and pinned on a blinding smile. ‘Can’t she? What a woefully limited little world you must inhabit, Mr Riordan.’
His eyes flickered, the only indication that she had pinked him with her quick riposte.
‘But I’m forgetting. One should never trust to appearances, particularly where women are concerned,’ he continued smoothly, his gaze openly caressing the bounteous curves which plumped above the beaded edge of the gown. ‘Perhaps it’s your dressmaker or plastic surgeon who should be accepting my compliments…’
‘With compliments like yours, who needs insults?’ murmured Rachel, resisting the urge to hitch up her fitted bodice.
Merrilyn had shrieked with outrage when she had seen the subdued, off-the-rack black dress which Rachel had originally planned to wear.
‘You can’t wear that—it’s not glamorous enough! You’ll stand out like a sore thumb, which is exactly what we want to avoid. Give me your measurements and I’ll arrange for my dressmaker to send over something more suitable.’
It had been Rachel’s turn to be horrified when she had gone up to the bedroom where she was to change and found the strapless, figure-hugging sequinned dress hanging on the closet door. Unfortunately it fitted like the proverbial glove, giving her no excuse to demur.
‘Oh, I do apologise…am I being insulting?’ Matthew Riordan oozed with silky insincerity, making her stiffen as he twisted her wrist to rest his lips against her pulse-point.
By now Rachel could perfectly understand Merrilyn’s panic. His diction was nearly perfect, but his words were stunningly uninhibited and his spectacles could not hide the hot, restless look in the hooded brown eyes. Apart from a streak of colour on his high cheekbones his face was noticeably pale in contrast to his sleeked-back hair and the dark stubble that graced his chin. His sultry air of controlled recklessness bore little resemblance to the grimly reserved chairman of Ayr Holdings whom Rachel had encountered when she had accompanied Frank to re-pitch for a couple of corporate contracts.
The companies, for whom they had run fraud prevention training programmes and provided security patrols, pre-employment vetting and confidential investigations in litigation support, had been involved in a series of mergers orchestrated by the majority shareholder—Ayr Holdings—and, having attained a controlling interest on several new boards, Matthew Riordan had been seeking to centralise their security arrangements.
At the meetings, although it had been made clear from the outset that Rachel was attending as co-owner of Weston Security Services, Matthew Riordan had virtually ignored her, addressing all his queries and remarks to Frank. When Rachel had taken it upon herself to answer or make an informed comment, he had given her minimal responses in a tone of clipped courtesy that had barely concealed his impatience with her interruption. Frank had claimed she was being over-sensitive, but Rachel had come away from their ultimately unsuccessful series of meetings steaming with frustration at being treated more like a glorified secretary than an equal partner.
‘No, just unbelievably crass,’ she replied, striving for just the right note of crushing boredom. She could feel his lips move against her skin as he smiled, the blood thumping through her artery his proof that she wasn’t as calm as she looked. She tried to slip her hand free, but to her surprise she discovered his grasp was unexpectedly strong. A brief, almost invisible power struggle ensued, and Rachel finally resorted to the feminine trick of curling her angry fingers over the edge of his palm and digging her fake nails into the sinewy back of his hand. He didn’t even flinch.
‘What else did you expect?’ he taunted. ‘A woman like you wearing a dress like that…you’re obviously not aiming to appeal to a man’s intellect…’
Even though she knew full well she was being deliberately provoked Rachel couldn’t help snapping at the bait. ‘A woman like me?’
