all right, man?”
Kingsley’s question should have worried Victor. He was showing too much emotion. He shouldn’t care. He should tighten up and exchange information with the winner of the bid and then leave. But all he could do was feel and realize that no, he was not all right. Far from it.
* * *
“This place is such a madhouse.” Mella used her auction paddle to fan her face. “And it’s hot.” She grinned. This was the kind of scene she loved. The restrained wildness of the crowd, the heated wave of everyone’s intentions as they surged toward something they wanted. Even if it was just bidding for a vacuum-cleaning service. She fanned a little faster, wondering what drove the organizers to open the doors of the massive ballroom instead of turning on the AC. This was Miami, not freakin’ Minneapolis.
“This so-called party is about as much fun as watching paint dry in the cold, Mella.” Corinne looked the epitome of boredom in her Gucci shades that she refused to take off indoors. It probably had something to do with her red eyes and the late night she’d had the day before.
“Relax, Corinne.” Mella glanced over at her friend, reining in her smile. “You’ll get the chance to throw yourself at eligible single men in just a few minutes. I need to get the information about the landscape guy, then we can go.” She’d already paid for her winning bid and was only waiting to collect her prize.
“Yeah. Relax, Corinne.” Liz, Mella’s best friend and Corinne’s old college roommate, sucked in her stomach and posed in her barely decent dress. Her high heels put her already tall frame nearly half a head over most women in the room, including Mella, who could only claim five feet. “You need to smell the roses. Or in this case, the testosterone. Maybe the guy Mella bid on is some hot and hung lumberjack type wearing jeans tight enough for me to tell his religion.”
Mella snorted with laughter. “You’re thinking about a gardener, not a landscape architect.”
“Same thing,” Liz muttered.
Mella heard Corinne take in a quick breath and whisper under her breath, “No, it’s not.” Corinne took off her dark glasses and stared.
Mella turned to see what her friend was gawking at. Only through an act of will did she keep the paddle in her hand moving, fluttering the air around her face that suddenly felt several degrees too hot. Two men were walking purposefully toward them. She bit the inside of her lip to keep her mouth from dropping open just like Corinne’s. Of the two men stalking their way, she only really noticed one.
He was dressed all in black, an utter contrast to everyone else at the fund-raiser who’d put on their spring colors and lightweight jackets. Black upon black upon black. Leather ankle boots with an understated sheen, Italian-cut slacks that fit a lean shape and a dress shirt rolled up to show muscled and lightly veined forearms dusted with hair. His watch, a gleaming stainless steel, was the only touch of light on him.
“Damn, he’s fine!” Corrine breathed somewhere near Mella.
“Yes, girl...” Mella could only agree while she lost her breath to the man in black.
There was nothing pretty or soft about him. Watching him walk through the crowd and make his way toward where she and her friends stood was like watching a jaguar stalk through a room of gazelles, the silken glide of his every step a promise of power and strength. Mella’s back straightened, but she felt her legs quiver from the impending confrontation. She kept the smile on her face.
“They both are,” Liz said with an amazed laugh. “After seeing absolutely nobody halfway decent in here for the past two hours, and now these two fine gods walk in from nowhere...somebody up there was listening to my prayers.”
From the corner of her eye, Mella noticed Corinne preen even more, smoothing a hand down her taut thighs and shifting toward the men in profile so they could admire the high curve of her butt in the clinging white jumpsuit. “Maybe we can get one for you at the next spot, Mella.” She said the last nearly under her breath since the men had come steadily closer and were only a few feet from them.
Mella continued to fan her face, wishing desperately for the heat in her cheeks to subside. She never reacted like this to men. Never.
“My name is Victor Raphael.” The one in black held out his hand for Mella to shake. “I believe you’ve won me for the next few months.” Just as his look promised, his voice was a lulling purr, calm and steady. A man used to giving orders and having them obeyed. “I’m with Raphael Design Group,” he said after a short pause.
Damn, he’s tall. She stared up and up at him. Then looked down at his hand, not quite ready to touch him yet. It felt like a big step for her to take his hand and feel his skin against hers, to know some of the strength in him. She looked down at the large hand, at least larger than her own, and opened her mouth to speak. But Corinne slid close and grasped Victor Raphael’s hand instead.
“I’m Corinne,” she said. “I haven’t won you, but you can win me.”
Her friend’s foolishness snapped Mella out of her daze. “Michaela Davis.” She introduced herself with a nod and smile, then turned to his friend who she’d barely noticed. “And you are?”
“Kingsley Diallo.” His friend shook her hand with a wide smile. “I wasn’t won and didn’t win anything. I’m just here for the food.” Laugh lines bracketed his expressive mouth.
Mella liked him immediately. “Wasn’t the lobster mac and cheese phenomenal?”
Kingsley laughed, an infectious sound that had her instantly laughing with him. “It was,” he said. “Although I have had much better from a friend’s kitchen.”
“Let’s get back to the business of this auction before we discuss the menu.” Victor said the last word like a curse. Didn’t he like food?
Well, two could play at that all-business game. Mella held out her hand. “Your card?”
For a moment, he stared hard at her, at her hand. Then reached for his wallet and took out a business card. She was surprised that it wasn’t black, too. Instead it was a crisp green with black writing, everything she needed to contact him, including a QR code printed on the back.
“Call me when you’re ready,” he said.
“I’m ready now,” Liz muttered behind Mella.
Mella ignored her friend and gave Victor a card of her own, taking care that their fingers didn’t touch. Would their hands spark with static electricity, or would it be like touching any other man? She wasn’t quite ready to find out.
Normally, she would have grasped him in one of her typically friendly handshakes, a handshake that would morph into a hug at their next meeting, but she had a feeling he wasn’t like every other man she’d dealt with before. She tucked his card away into her purse and clenched her teeth into a determined smile.
“Perfect.” She gripped her purse and tapped it against the front of her thighs, almost succeeding in ignoring Victor and the weakening effect he had on her. Her heart was practically fighting to leap out of her chest. “It was good to meet you both, but now we have to head out. Have a great afternoon.”
“But wait...they just got here.” Corinne sounded as if she was working up to a pout. She and Liz had been chatting up Kingsley while Mella and Victor
