‘Fine, thank you.’
Liar. She had just performed a series of skating moves that would have done any ice star proud—if that ice star were a clown, that was.
The cabbie shook his head with concern. ‘The roads are really icy tonight.’
She’d noticed. She was currently lodged in an inelegant squatting position at the side of his cab, her tights were ripped, and her dress was...thankfully not completely ruined after a close encounter with the side of a mud-streaked cab. Thank goodness her dress was blue-black. Navy was a great colour. It could be sponged.
Picking herself up, she stood waiting for a gap in the traffic. The cabbie was also waiting for the cars to clear. ‘Aren’t those the three men in the consortium that saved the town?’ he said, pointing.
Leila’s heart lurched. Sure enough, heading in arrow formation up the steps of the hotel were her elder sister Britt’s husband, the Sheikh of Kareshi; her middle sister Eva’s fiancé, the impossibly handsome Italian Count Roman Quisvada; and the third man in the consortium, who drew her gaze like a heat-seeking missile to its target. Powering up the steps ahead of the other men, Raffa Leon. Dangerously attractive. Currently single.
Turning away from more trouble than most women could handle, Leila shook her head with impatience for allowing herself to indulge in a moment of sheer fantasy. She was the shy, virginal sister in a family of out-there go-getters, and Raffa spelled danger in any language. Even the most experienced woman would think twice before falling into his lap, and she was more of a small-town mouse.
But the cabbie was right in saying the three men had saved the town. Leila and her two sisters, Britt and Eva, along with their long-lost brother, Tyr, had used to own the Skavanga mine outright, but when the minerals ran out and diamonds were discovered, they couldn’t afford the specialized equipment required to mine the precious stones. The town of Skavanga had always depended on the mine for its existence, so the future of everyone who lived there had been at stake too. It had been such a relief when the powerful consortium had moved in, saving both the business and the town.
‘There’s one billionaire left, if you hurry,’ the cabbie commented with a wink. ‘The other two are married—or about to be, I heard.’
‘Yes.’ Leila smiled. ‘To my sisters—’
‘So you’re one of the famous Skavanga Diamonds,’ the cabbie exclaimed, clearly impressed.
‘That’s what they call us,’ Leila admitted. She laughed. ‘I’m the smallest stone with the most flaws—’
‘Which makes you the most interesting in my book,’ the cabbie cut in. ‘And you’re still in with a chance, seeing as there’s one billionaire left for you.’
She loved his sense of humour and couldn’t stop herself laughing. ‘I’ve got more sense than that,’ she assured him. ‘And I’m definitely not Raffa Leon’s type.’ She gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘He has got a bit of a reputation,’ the cabbie agreed. ‘But you don’t want to believe everything you read about people in the press.’
Remembering how the glossies made out that all three Skavanga sisters were currently monopolising the world stage, at least as far as celebrity went, Leila was inclined to believe him. The only stage she stood a chance of monopolising was the bus shelter on her way to work.
‘And remember this,’ the cabbie added, giving Leila an appraising look. ‘Billionaires like to marry down. They want a quiet life at home. They have enough excitement in the office. Don’t take offence,’ he said quickly. ‘I mean that as a compliment. You look like a nice, quiet girl, is all.’
By this point Leila was convulsed with laughter. ‘And no offence taken. Now you be careful of the icy roads. I’m guessing you’ve got a long, cold night ahead of you.’
‘Too right, I have. Goodnight, love. You have fun at that party.’
‘I will,’ she promised. Just as soon as she had visited the restroom to sort out her dress. Parties might not be her thing, but she had no intention of letting down her glamorous sisters by arriving at their celebration looking as if she’d been mud wrestling before she arrived.
Picking her way carefully across the icy road as soon as there was a gap in the traffic, she launched herself into the shadows. Raffa Leon was standing at the top of the steps scanning the street, probably waiting for some glamorous socialite to decant from a limo.
God, he was gorgeous!
But bang went her plan for an anonymous entrance—
Not necessarily... All she had to do was choose her moment and scoot past him. He wouldn’t even notice her—
Wrong.
Everything was going so well. Raffa was looking one way while she was running up the steps on his blind side. But then she hit a patch of ice, and while her heels went one way she went the other. With a shriek, she prepared to hit the stone hard.
Wrong again.
‘Leila Skavanga!’
She was shocked into silence for a moment as the most impossibly handsome face in the world hovered inches from her own.
‘Raffa Leon!’ She faked surprise. ‘Goodness! Please forgive me. I didn’t see you standing there—’
Much.
Surprise? Make that deeply embarrassing. If there was one lap she didn’t want to land in tonight, it was this lap. And Raffa was holding her so firmly she had no option but to remain exactly where she was, with him shooting heat through her veins, and quite a lot of other places too. Trying not to breathe in case the cheese sandwich she’d chomped down earlier overrode the smell of toothpaste, she remained immobile, while he...while he just smelled amazing. And those eyes...
‘Thank you,’ she said, recovering her senses as he lifted her and steadied her on her feet.
‘I’m glad I caught you.’
His voice was deep and sexy, and faintly accented in a way that would have made the call of a corncrake sound melodious. ‘I’m glad you did too.’ He had just performed a save that would have earned him a standing ovation if she’d been a rugby ball.
‘You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?’
The man for whom the phrase tall, dark and handsome had been invented was looking at her legs. Deeply conscious of her ruined tights, she made a big play of brushing herself down. ‘No. I’m fine.’ She shook both feet in turn as if to prove the point and then felt stupid. He made her feel so gauche.
‘We have met before,’ he said, easing his big, sexy shoulders in a shrug.
‘In the reception line at Britt’s wedding,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
Not only did he smell divine, and he was unreasonably compelling in a swarthy, piratical way, but those wicked eyes and that energy flying off him, both were off the scale. This encounter was so far out of her comfort zone, it was embarrassing, and she was longing to escape, but Raffa seemed in no hurry to get away.
