hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t even shaken her hand. And yet—
Dangerous was the word that finally caused her to take a defensive step backwards.
‘I thought I knew everyone on the invitation list, but obviously I was wrong.’ He spoke with the easy confidence that was the natural inheritance of the rich and powerful, his voice smooth and seductive, one dark eyebrow raised in anticipation of an introduction.
Still struggling to understand the reaction of her body, Chantal ignored the question in his eyes. She wasn’t about to introduce herself—not least because she wasn’t on the invitation list. Nor was she ever likely to be on the invitation list for an event like this.
She studied him for a moment, taking in the lean perfection of his bone structure and the lazy amusement in his eyes. He was looking at her in the way a man looked at a woman he was interested in taking to bed, and for a moment Chantal forgot to breathe.
Definitely dangerous.
The chemistry between them was so intense and so inexplicable that she felt flustered and hot.
Common sense told her that this was the time to make an elegant excuse and move on. She couldn’t afford to indulge in a flirtation with anyone, because to draw that much attention to herself was to risk being exposed. ‘Obviously you’re a man who likes to be in control of his environment.’
‘Am I?’
‘If you’re expecting to know everyone on the invitation list, then yes. That suggests a need to be in control, don’t you think?’
‘Or perhaps I’m just selective about who I spend time with.’
‘Which means that you prefer the predictable to the possible. Knowing everyone surely limits the opportunity for surprises?’
His dark eyes gleamed with appreciation. ‘I’m not easy to surprise. In my experience, the possible almost always turns out to be the probable. People are boringly predictable.’ His mouth was a sensuous curve and she knew—she just knew—that this man would know everything there was to know about kissing a woman.
For a moment the mental image of his handsome dark head bending towards hers was so vivid that she couldn’t formulate a reply, and his eyes drifted to her mouth, as if he were enjoying a similar fantasy.
‘What? No argument? No desire to prove me wrong?’ His gaze slid to the curved neckline of her dress and rested for a moment on her narrow waist. ‘Tell me something about yourself that’s likely to surprise me.’
Just about anything about her would have surprised him.
Her background.
Her true identity.
The fact that she wasn’t supposed to be here.
‘I’m starving,’ she said truthfully, and he laughed with genuine amusement.
The sound turned heads in their direction, but he didn’t seem to care. ‘That’s you at your most surprising?’
She glanced around her, her eyes resting on the impossibly slender frame of the nearest woman. ‘It’s pretty surprising to admit to liking food in this sort of company. I don’t see a single woman here who is likely to be battling an addiction to chocolate truffles.’
‘You don’t see a single real woman. If you’re hungry, then you must eat.’ He lifted a hand and attracted the attention of a waiter with the natural confidence of someone used to being in control. She watched enviously, wishing she possessed even a fraction of his poise.
‘I assumed the canapés were just for show.’
‘You think their purpose is to test the self control of the guests?’
‘If so, then I’m about to fail that test.’ Smiling at the waiter, Chantal handed him her empty glass and piled several morsels on her napkin, resisting the temptation to snatch the entire trayful and put them in her handbag for later. ‘Thank you. These look delicious.’ The waiter bowed and moved away.
‘So why are you hungry?’ The man’s eyes lingered on her hair. ‘You haven’t eaten all day because you were at the hairdresser’s?’
She hadn’t eaten all day because she’d worked a double shift serving food to other people. And because there was no point in wasting money on food when you knew a free meal was coming.
‘Something like that.’ Sliding a morsel of warm pastry into her mouth, Chantal struggled not to moan with delight as the texture and flavour exploded on her palate. ‘These are delicious. Aren’t you going to try one?’
His eyes were on her lips, and that simple connection was enough to stoke the flames that were licking around her pelvis.
They were in a crowded ballroom. So why did it feel as though it was just the two of them?
Flustered, she realised that she really, really needed to leave—but at that moment he helped himself to a canapé from her napkin, and the gesture was strangely intimate. Chantal was wondering how eating could be intimate when he smiled at her, and that smile was so irresistibly sexy that she couldn’t do anything except smile back.
‘You’re right, they are delicious.’ He lifted his hand and gently brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth. ‘So far all I know about you is that you like food and that you don’t spend all day obsessing about your figure. Are you going to give me any more clues about yourself?’
‘Why?’
‘I’d like an introduction.’
She felt her heart skip and jump. ‘If I tell you my name then you’ll have to tell me your name, and it’s much more fun if we remain strangers.’
He was silent for a moment. ‘You don’t know my name?’
‘Of course not.’
The faint gleam in his eyes told her that this wasn’t the answer he’d expected. ‘All right,’ he drawled softly, ‘no names. So, how would you describe yourself?’
A liar, a cheat and a fraud?
‘A person’s perception of themselves is almost always at odds with how others perceive them,’ Chantal murmured, choosing to be intentionally vague. ‘But I like to think of myself as—adaptable.’
‘You’re not going to tell me who you really are?’
She didn’t want to think about who she really was. Suppressing a shudder, Chantal gave what she hoped was a mysterious smile. ‘Does it matter? Perhaps I’m a princess? Or maybe I’m the CEO of a corporation? Or an heiress determined to hide her identity?’
‘All of those people were included on the invitation list. So which are you? Princess, heiress or CEO?’ His tone was dry, but his eyes were sharp and assessing and Chantal knew that she ought to end the conversation and move on immediately. This man’s intelligence was not in dispute, and it wouldn’t take him long to work out that there was something about her that didn’t ring true.
It didn’t matter how much she struggled to
