who, because of the older man’s apparent interest in her, had suddenly started looking at her with new eyes himself. But after making such a point of saying they were simply old friends, he hadn’t been able to make too much of a claim on her himself, finally going off to chat and flirt with the lovely blonde who had been so peeved with Marcus Ballantyne earlier. Joy was sure that initially the two of them had only got together because they were so piqued with her and Marcus, but they now seemed to be genuinely enjoying each other’s company.
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged huskily, taking a sip of her wine, unable to look at Marcus.
God, she felt uncomfortable in his company. She didn’t even know what to talk to him about!
‘Relax, Joy.’ As he spoke Marcus moved one lean hand to cover hers as it rested on her thigh, causing Joy to look up at him with startled green eyes. ‘I’m quite harmless, you know.’ He gave her that teasing grin that was so famous from television and film screens.
Anyone less harmless than this man she had yet to meet! He gave the impression of a leashed tiger, bound only by a thin veneer of civilisation. And it was questionable whether that veneer always remained in place. Somehow Joy doubted it…
Marcus leaned forward slightly, bringing his face dangerously close to hers, his fingers becoming entwined with hers now—long, lean fingers that made her hand look tiny in comparison. But everything about this man was big—in fact, he was larger than life. Joy felt lost.
‘I don’t bite—at least, not on a first date,’ he told her huskily, dark blue eyes alight with humour.
Completely lost! She shouldn’t have listened to Casey’s voice inside her head earlier. She wasn’t having fun and enjoying herself, was too nervous in this man’s company to do that. Gerald had been old beyond his years, very serious, and so her experience with men was limited—very limited when it came to men like Marcus Ballantyne. She certainly couldn’t forget who she was for this one evening, and flirt with this man. She was totally out of her depth.
She swallowed hard. ‘We aren’t on a date,’ she dismissed, as lightly as she could, hoping she sounded more self-assured than she felt.
‘That can easily be remedied.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow evening.’ His blue gaze easily held hers. ‘I promise not to bite then, either.’
Have dinner with this man? Just the two of them out for an evening together? He had to be joking!
‘Unless Danny was exaggerating things slightly when he told me earlier that your friendship with him was a thing of the past?’ Marcus peristed at her lack of reply. ‘After all, it is Valentine’s night— perhaps he was trying to revive things between the two of you?’
Danny hadn’t been exaggerating about there being nothing intimate between them; he had been completely fabricating the whole thing. But without revealing her own part in the competition prize, she couldn’t exactly tell Marcus that. And the more time she spent in Marcus Ballantyne’s company, the less she wanted him to know about that.
‘There is absolutely nothing like that between Danny and myself,’ she said with complete certainty, knowing there never would be. She still thought he was the biggest bore she had ever met in her life, and if she ever had to spend another evening in his company she would fall asleep! ‘Danny was alone this evening, and I happened to be in town, so dinner seemed like a good idea,’ she dismissed easily.
‘Good,’ Marcus accepted with satisfaction. ‘In that case, think about dinner tomorrow. And in the meantime,’ he added, before she could make a reply, ‘would you like to dance?’
Joy very much doubted that this man very often had to leave a woman to think about going out with him! It was…Dance? He wanted her to get up and dance with him? To this? The loud rock music had stopped several minutes ago to be replaced by slow love-songs—in fact Danny and the young blonde had been entwined in each other’s arms for some time. And now Marcus had suggested that the two of them—!
He gave a throaty chuckle at her side. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you before, Joy,’ he told her with a smile, as she turned to look at him enquiringly. ‘Believe me, you’re very refreshing!’ he assured her at her doubtful look.
Gauche and unsophisticated was what he really meant, Joy was sure. And who could blame him for thinking that? She was behaving like some inexperienced teenager rather than the mature woman she was supposed to be. The man was suggesting they dance together, not asking her to go to bed with him!
‘I would love to dance.’ She stood up determinedly once she had made the announcement, her forced confidence shaken a little as she realised that Marcus Ballantyne’s fingers were still entwined with hers, his hand tightening its grasp slightly as he stood up beside her, moving forward to make a path for them to the crowded dance-floor.
Joy had no choice but to go along with him; the clasp of his hand was deceptively light, but she had no doubt that if she seemed in any danger of leaving his side, for whatever reason, his fingers would tighten quite painfully.
Her heart was racing; a pulse seemed to be hammering in her throat as Marcus took her in his arms.
He was so much taller and bigger than she was, she realised, as he gathered her close against him, the top of her head resting under his chin, strong arms about her waist as he moulded her body against his.
Joy could barely breathe—and it had little to do with the fact that her face was buried against the hardness of his chest. It had everything to do with the fact that she was completely aware of this man, from the hard leanness of his body to the tantalising smell of the aftershave he wore.
He moved rhythmically to the beat of the music, his body seductive against hers, the crush of the dance-space making it impossible for them to move off the spot. When he had pulled her into his arms Joy hadn’t known what to do with her hands, but as Marcus put his arms possessively about her narrow waist she had perforce to place her hands on his broad shoulders. And she had never felt so uncomfortable in her life, her efforts to hold herself apart from Marcus quickly dealt with by him as he moulded her into the hard contours of his body with the firmness of his hands against her lower back. In fact, those hands were a little too familiar against the curve of the base of her spine!
‘I said relax, Joy.’ He lowered his head to murmur close to her ear, his breath warm and caressing against her skin. ‘We’re only dancing.’
It might only be dancing to him, but it felt more like making love to music to her! Maybe he was used to this sort of intimacy, but she certainly wasn’t; there didn’t seem to be a part of their bodies that wasn’t touching; even their legs were brushing together as they could only move from side to side to the music. So much for behaving like the mature woman she was supposed to be; her legs felt as if they were going to buckle beneath her if this battering to her senses continued.
‘Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Flirt a little!’ This was going from one extreme to the other. From merely existing for the last six months—going to work, then home, then back to work again—she had suddenly been thrust into a situation, with this wildly attractive man, that she just didn’t know how to deal with. She wasn’t just out of her depth, she was sinking! It reminded her of a poem she had loved to read when she was younger, she thought slightly hysterically, the poem a cry for help from someone everyone thought was in control but who was actually anything but. Her own self-assured control had completely deserted her.
‘Would you like to sit down again?’ Marcus offered
