time she turned around quickly, she’d caught him dodging out of sight.
She shuddered, switching her thoughts back to her mother before fear could sneak in a low blow and turn her away from her goal.
The way Maria looked at it, in this life you either had to laugh or cry and she was done crying and ready to do battle.
Clenching her back teeth so hard it hurt she walked into the pool of light spilling from the restaurant door. The happening inside was the Christmas party of Stanhope Electronics, the firm that employed Randy Searle. She’d convinced herself that by confronting him face-to-face, even if he tried to bluster his way out of it, people would know, and in future he’d leave her alone.
Her shoulder-length hair, caught up in butterfly clips, tugged as her scalp prickled, the way it did when she felt him around.
Watching.
No! No more letting her mind take that track.
One more indrawn breath, one more step, and she crossed the threshold into a world of pure sound.
A quick sidestep helped avoid a collision with the couple leaving. Laughing over their shoulders, they waved goodbye, calling out, “See you next year.”
At the last moment they noticed her. “Oops, sorry.” The tall blonde’s blue-eyed gaze held hers with the soft bleariness of someone who’d had just enough to drink.
“No harm done,” said Maria, standing to the side to let them exit, hoping the smile on her face hid her apprehension.
The male half of the couple endowed her with a sloppy grin, and just when she thought she was safe, shouted, “Hey, Franc, hang about, we’ve got a live one here.”
A live one? What kind of party was this?
As she hesitated, he said, “Go right on in. Better late than never, it’s one hell of a party.”
His blond companion tugged at his sleeve, snagging his attention. “And it can only get better.”
A look passed between the two. A look of naked need and desire that pinched at Maria as she watched him practically carry the blonde down to the street in their haste to be alone.
Distracted, she wondered what it felt like to want someone so badly you didn’t care who knew.
Mentally reproving herself to get back to the task at hand, she let her eyes adjust to the soft glare of candles reflected in the old-fashioned white-and-black tiles that had first adorned the walls when it was a butcher’s shop.
“Looking for someone?”
Maria turned in the direction of the rough-honed male voice and almost replied, “You. I’m looking for you. I have been all of my life.”
Uh-oh, was her mouth gaping? She shut it with a snap. In a near daze, she dragged her eyes from the guy’s lopsided grin. A grin she’d thought exclusive to her favorite movie hero. Now she knew better. And for worse.
It was as if someone had played a sick joke on her. She’d never thought to meet a man who could actually make her heart jump into her throat. Truth be known, she’d hadn’t been sure if she wanted to. But to happen tonight of all nights! Swallowing her instincts to flee, she answered, “Randy. Randy Searle, is he still here?”
Head cocked to the side, he gave her a once-over that was almost insolent in its laziness. “Too bad,” he drawled. “I’d hoped you were looking for me.”
Her hands fisted tightly round the strap of her purse until her nails dug into her palm. Real life intruded on her fairy-tale moment and let loose the beast to steal her peace of mind. Hopefully a crowded place would keep her safe.
“Am I too late?”
He turned his wrist to check. Dark hairs showed above a gold watch where the cuffs of his white silk shirt folded back. “Not that late, nine-thirty.”
“Is…is he still here?” she stuttered, watching the only guy to ever make her mind crash come closer, moving with all the lethal grace of a male confident of his own attractions.
His glance caught hers. Brown like her own, but more intense in color—bitter chocolate—his eyes held hers until she forced herself to look away.
Franc had never seen eyes quite that color before, never been one to play favorites, but then…times change. Dark brown washed with violet, they were almost the color of her dress.
And if her eyes had stolen his breath, her mouth stopped his heart, the full top and bottom lips pouted naturally as if shaped by a kiss. Immediately the thought my kiss was born. A tiny black mole enhanced the top right-hand corner and definitely required closer investigation.
“Randy?” he replied slowly, snatching time to think of something other than how her mouth would taste, and stop him cursing that Randy had supped there first.
“Do you know him?”
“Sure. Just give me a minute to think where I last saw him.” Which would make at least two minutes since he’d watched her halt in the doorway. One glimpse had sent him hurrying between the tables lining the miniature dance floor, praying she wasn’t a trick of his imagination, brought about by a period of abstinence that had ceased to bother him, until now.
“Hmm, maybe he went upstairs, there are a couple of quieter rooms up there by the bar…” His words trailed off as he realized he had seen Randy heading in that direction, but he hadn’t been alone. Kathy Gilbertson from the experimental electronics lab had been with him, and Franc wouldn’t have laid bets on which of them was in the most hurry to reach the scattering of sofas in the secluded upstairs bar.
“Okay, I could be wrong. Randy is more likely to be in the courtyard out back where all the action is.”
“Thanks. I guess I’ll try there.”
Her words lacked enthusiasm, and at the sight of one of her white teeth nipping at her bottom lip he decided to give her an out. “Then again that might not be a good idea unless you’re wearing insect repellent. I heard some of the ladies complaining about mosquitoes. I’d hate you to get bitten.”
By anyone but me.
He’d wanted to touch that honeyed satin skin bare from neck to waist from the moment she’d turned her back to let Hailey and Joel pass. At that moment he wouldn’t have given a damn if the rest of her hadn’t lived up to his fantasy that a goddess had come calling.
Two days early, Santa, but who was he to complain?
Her hair was as dark as his, but no butterfly could ever look half that good on him. She sported at least ten that seemed to flit around her head. Fists bunched, he held back from trying to capture one, but knew his resistance was almost shot.
Hell, what was a guy to do when he that knew up close and personal was never gonna be enough?
From the moment she’d turned to face him, Franc had known he’d been deluding himself. No woman so beautiful, fabulous eyes, generous mouth, not to mention that mole, could possibly be here without a partner.
Soon as she’d proved him
