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James Black had a lot of charisma.
So, one look at him in that suit and all the breath had rushed from her body. As a result her brain, starved of think-fuel, had let her do something stupid. Her lips were never going to forgive her. Every nerve-ending in them screamed for what had been so close. His mouth was full and forever curved with that charming yet slightly mocking half-smile. So tantalising. Getting in close like that she’d got a taste of his scent. Fresh, clean. There was nothing nicer than the plain smell of soap and man. Her mind decided then and there to play the movie of James and soap and steaming, streaming water and nothing else.
‘Don’t you agree, Liss?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Jerked out of her reverie by a question she almost hadn’t heard, she realised she’d better save the erotic daydreaming for another time and place. Better still she should stop it altogether.
Idiot. Overcome by an impulse that had been too tempting to pass up. In the workplace she’d managed to hold back, maintain her dignity even. She’d just thrown all that away.
All she had to do was do her job well, have a nice time in the evening—nothing too outrageous. Nothing the family could get too upset about. Succeed at the basics.
So she concentrated on the party at hand, moving among her fellow guests, meeting people. She’d learnt a bit from those years in Paris—found that parties weren’t just about having a good time yourself. It was much more fun if everyone was having a good time. She found her natural curiosity about people helped.
But she was most curious about James. She kept her distance but glanced at him often, watching as, oozing with finesse, he schmoozed everyone he was near. But it was a genuine wow factor. He was attentive, he listened. He seemed to care about the conversations and the people he was having them with. Oh, yes, he had it all.
*
From his own busy networking, he watched her work the party—drink in hand. Tiny sips—the sparkle in her eyes from pure pleasure, not from any alcohol or artificial stimulant. She had everyone’s name right, introduced people with titbits of info that would interest the others. She took the time to talk to everyone— including those clearly a little in awe of talking to a real live princess. Oh, yeah, she had the whole thing down pat—but with a grace so genuine it was dazzling.
You’d think she was the hostess of the place, who’d been here for ever, known them all for ages instead of only having met most of them this very evening.
His body was burning with the need to expend the pent-up energy. She’d coiled him up and then given him that one last little twist to ensure he was on the brink of exploding. He was going to have to get her for that.
But he’d keep his distance for now. The paparazzi had turned up and the last thing he wanted was to be the latest escort printed in the papers. So he observed and simmered. He saw now why she liked parties—she was good at them. And that point got him to thinking. Most people liked doing what they were good at and maybe Liss would be better off trying to do a job that she’d actually be good at. Her trying to be a secretary was like a giraffe trying to roller skate—pretty much asking the impossible. But he had to give her credit—she was making an effort.
Eventually, on his way out, he couldn’t resist. He was the moth, she the flame. He grimaced at the cliché.
He refused to get burned, but maybe he’d get a little warm.
‘Need a refill? You’ve hardly touched your drink.’
Liss turned towards him, away from the rest of the party. ‘I finish up all the bottles later in the night,’ she quipped, determined to keep things light, free from danger.
‘Ah. So you start the evening as the perfect hostess and end the evening as the wild child.’
‘Some habits are hard to break.’
‘So I should stick beside you later on, then. I’m interested in seeing how wild that side of you is.’
Stick beside her? Temptation called again. ‘Never this side of midnight. It’ll probably be too late for you.’
‘How late do you go?’
‘As late as I like.’
His smile was sharp. ‘And will you be shining with the freshness of a daisy at work tomorrow morning?’
She froze. She should have seen that one coming. ‘My social life doesn’t impact on my work life.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Indeed.’ She caught that gleam in his eye and added for good measure, ‘I keep the two entirely separate.’
His grin was wicked and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. ‘Is that so?’ He repeated the question, dripping in disbelief, slower and even more sarcastic than the first time.
