the eye of many appreciative males—and one in particular.
‘You’re a very beautiful woman, as I’ve told you before,’ Abe said as the music ended and with a guiding hand around her waist he led her back towards the table. ‘Whoever he was, he was a fool, and he didn’t deserve you in the first place. You are worth the best, and don’t you forget it.’
She looked at Abe’s hard face and realised that not only was he an extremely nice man, but also extremely astute—no wonder he was a billionaire oil mogul.
‘You’re right.’ She smiled and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you.’ Why was she wasting her time getting upset all because she had had one disastrous love affair with a womanising bastard? It was time she moved on with her life, she thought determinedly.
‘Excuse me,’ a deep, dark voice drawled mockingly, and Max Quintano appeared in front of them. ‘May I claim your partner for the next dance?’
Abe looked up at Max, not in the least intimidated by his great height, and slowly let his eyes inspect the man, before quirking an enquiring brow at Sophie and demanding in his own language to know what had been said. She was too shocked by Max’s sudden interruption and request to think of lying, and she told Abe.
‘Ah.’ He looked back at Max. ‘You want my woman?’ he managed in English, and his blue eyes danced with a wicked light.
Sophie knew Abe was enjoying himself, and she glanced up at Max through the thick veil of her lashes. The look of cynical contempt on his harshly handsome face infuriated her. Abe had implied that she was his lover, and it was obvious Max believed him. He had a nerve to sneer at her, when he was the one with a legion of lovers and his long-term lover sitting at the other side of the dance floor. So why was he insisting on dancing with her given his obvious distain?
‘I hope you will allow me the pleasure of dancing with your charming companion. Sophie and I are old friends.’ His dark eyes narrowed challengingly on Abe.
Abe let go of her waist and threw up his hands in a theatrical gesture. ‘I am not her keeper—ask her.’ Abe suddenly seemed to know a lot more English than anyone had given him credit for—Sophie included.
Max’s dark head turned and his gaze captured hers. ‘May I have this dance, Sophie? Your partner does not seem to mind,’ he opined, with a sardonic curl of his firm lips.
‘Max—what a surprise,’ she said coldly. Words couldn’t begin to describe the anger that had swelled up inside her as the two men talked over her as if she wasn’t there. ‘I didn’t know you could dance. Did Gina teach you?’ she asked pointedly. The two-timing toad had the nerve to take a dig at her in front of everyone, and still demand that she dance with him.
‘As a matter of fact she did. Amongst other things,’ he said, grinning.
Shock kept her silent for a moment, his brazen reply adding insult to injury. Then, realising that standing in silence, sandwiched between two men on the edge of the dance floor, was arousing the antennae of the company around them, she said sweetly ‘I’m sure she did. And, given she is your companion for the evening, shouldn’t you be dancing with her?’
‘No, Gina has other things on her mind,’ he replied with an amused glance across at his table.
His callous indifference amazed her, and she allowed her gaze to rake angrily over him. He hadn’t changed much. His black hair was cut shorter, and liberally sprinkled with grey, and the lines bracketing his mouth were slightly more pronounced. There was a hard edge about him, which was in direct contrast to the laughing, teasing man she had known, but he was still strikingly attractive.
‘I’m surprised you want to dance with me,’ she finally said bluntly.
Max moved closer and held out his hand. ‘You shouldn’t be, Sophie. After all, we were once extremely close friends.’ His glittering eyes mocked her, and for a moment she hesitated. But she didn’t trust him not to blurt out something even more compromising if she refused, and the gossip it would cause was not something she wanted.
‘I’d be delighted to dance with you, Mr Quintano,’ she said with a coldly polite social smile, and put her hand in his.
Max sensed she hated the idea but was too polite to say so, and he deliberately linked his fingers through hers and felt the slight tremble in her hand. ‘Now, that wasn’t so hard,’ he said, dipping his dark head to murmur in her ear as he led her onto the dance floor. He had won the first battle without her putting up much of a fight
As he stopped, he caught her other hand and deliberately held her at arm’s length. ‘You are looking well.’ He allowed his dark gaze to sweep insolently over her. She was. Sophie Rutherford had turned into an exquisitely elegant lady—even if she did have the morals of an alley cat. ‘More beautiful than ever, in fact. But I’ve been watching you, and some things never change. You are still as eager as ever where men are concerned—and Abe Asamov is quite some catch! You do realise he is a married man?’ Max prompted cynically, and did what he had been aching to do since he’d first set eyes on her tonight. He pulled her close against his hard body and guided her expertly around the floor to the slow music.
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