why you’re here?’
‘This event?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Cut the game-playing. You know very well what I mean.’
‘Are you ready for the facts, chérie?’
As ready as I’ll ever be! She didn’t bother answering, just sent him a fulminating look that spoke volumes.
He gave a voluble sigh. ‘It will cost you.’
‘No, it won’t,’ Hannah denied heartlessly. ‘You owe me. For living the good life at the expense of my foolish generosity.’
He proffered a mocking smile. ‘When did you become so cynical?’
‘Three years ago.’
‘All right, chérie. This one is on me, for old times’ sake.’
‘Merci,’ she acknowledged in a voice as cold as an arctic ice floe.
‘Camille sought me out, paid my air fare, and is footing my accommodation,’ he revealed, and she arched one eyebrow.
‘And you’re bent on playing both ends against the middle?’
He gave a negligent shrug. ‘Your words, not mine.’
Hannah looked at him carefully, saw the handsome features, the rakish gleam evident in his expression, and wondered how on earth she could have been swayed by his charm. His megawatt smile had no effect whatsoever.
‘Go get a life, Luc.’
‘A word of warning, sweetheart,’ he offered quietly. ‘Camille is on a mission.’
‘As if I didn’t know?’
‘Dance with me, and I could be persuaded to tell you more.’
He was unbelievable! ‘Not even if my life depended on it!’
One eyebrow lifted in cynical amusement. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ He cast a glance in Miguel’s direction.
‘Miguel Santanas doesn’t look the type of man who would willingly share.’
No, Hannah agreed, suppressing a slight shiver. Miguel’s ownership was total.
‘Maybe we could share a coffee somewhere and talk about old times.’
‘You can’t be serious?’ He had such a thick skin, it was almost laughable. ‘Yes, you are,’ she acknowledged with a shake of her head.
‘No hard feelings?’
She faced him squarely, her eyes steady. ‘When you report to Camille, tell her she doesn’t stand a snowflake’s chance in hell.’ She stood to her feet, needing a change of scene, if only for a few minutes.
She turned from the table and saw Miguel’s tall frame a few feet distant. He looked totally relaxed, his strong masculine features portraying interest as he listened to whatever his colleague had to say.
One glance at the expression in his eyes was sufficient for Hannah to realise he hadn’t missed a thing. There was a darkness evident, a latent anger that was almost frightening.
She moved towards him, pausing as she reached his side while he performed an introduction, and she stood perfectly still as he reached for her hand and linked his fingers through her own.
Support? Protection? she wondered. Or was he merely staking a claim, making a statement?
The colleague excused himself and returned to a nearby table.
‘Shall we leave?’ Miguel queried with a faintly inflected drawl.
Hannah offered him a stunning smile, then lifted a hand and traced a light path along the edge of his jaw.
‘And spoil Camille’s fun?’
He caught her fingers and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her palm, observing the way her eyes darkened in dilation. Her lips trembled slightly, and for one infinitesimal second she looked acutely vulnerable.
‘You resemble a piece of fragile glass on the point of shattering,’ Miguel said gently. ‘Home, I think.’
Her chin tilted fractionally. ‘I’m really very resilient.’ She summoned a smile. ‘Besides, there’s music, and we should dance.’
They did, for a while, moving to the funky beat, then when it changed to something slower Miguel pulled her into his arms and held her close.
It was heaven. She could almost forget where they were, the time, the place, everything except the man and the emotions he was able to arouse.
She felt his lips brush the top of her head, then linger at her temple, and she made a sound in her throat as they settled just beneath one earlobe.
They fitted together so well, and this close she could feel his powerful thigh muscles, the strength of his arousal.
‘I think we should go home.’
His soft laughter feathered sensation over the surface of her skin, and heat unfurled within, warming her body to fever pitch.
‘Do you need to return to the table?’
She shook her head, and together they made their way towards the ballroom exit, pausing from time to time to speak to acquaintances. They were about to pass through the large double doors when they came face to face with Camille.
‘You’re not leaving?’
Hannah offered a polite smile. ‘We both have an early start tomorrow.’
‘Tired, darling?’ Her expression was deliberately bland. ‘Miguel must find your lack of stamina a little—’ she paused slightly ‘—tiresome.’
‘Perhaps tired is just a polite euphemism,’ Hannah ventured sweetly, and almost held her breath at the sheer venom evident in Camille’s gaze before it was quickly masked. ‘Goodnight, Camille.’
There was little the striking brunette could do other than make a graceful retreat. However there was the promise—no, threat, Hannah amended as she walked at Miguel’s side to the lift, that this was only the beginning of Camille’s campaign.
She sat in silence as Miguel eased the car through the city streets, lost in contemplative thought.
Media speculation had run rife at the time of her engagement to Miguel, and the caption above their wedding photos had given allusion to it being an arranged union. Something that aroused public conjecture, and added fuel to the social gossip columns.
However, more than a year down the track, the conjecture had lessened, they’d settled easily into the pattern of marriage, work and social commitments.
‘You’re quiet.’
Hannah glanced at Miguel and could determine little from his expression in the car’s
