whenever it suited her without anyone being the wiser.
Before she got to implement any of it, though, she’d wandered outside onto the terrace to drink in the view she knew so well and loved—the Manly Boat Harbour by night with its millions of dollars’ worth of yachts and all kinds of small crafts tied up to the jetties—when a disco struck up on the terrace and couples drifted out to dance.
And she was actually thinking that this was a livelier kind of party than one would expect of an absent-minded professor when a deep voice behind her drawled, ‘May I have this dance, señorita?’
For some reason the hairs on the nape of her neck stood up as she turned slowly, then she knew why—it was the man who’d been standing beside the professor at the piano.
She took an unexpected breath to be on the receiving end of that dark, worldly gaze, but said lightly, ‘Oh, it’s you.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You were expecting me?’
‘Not at all, señor.’ She smiled faintly. ‘I got the rather strong impression not much about this party was of any interest to you.’
A glint of something like mockery entered his dark eyes. ‘When did you get that impression?’
She shook out her hair and opted for honesty against confusion at being caught in having ‘sized him up’, so to speak. ‘When you were leaning against the piano looking bored,’ she said with a glimmer of mischief curving her lips.
‘That must have been before I caught sight of you,’ he countered, then frowned slightly. ‘Are you—unaccompanied?’
‘I am now, although I didn’t start out that way.’ She looked wry. ‘My escort met his ex-girlfriend and they’ve disappeared. I’m not sure if they’re making up or tearing each other to bits, but something intensely dramatic was going on between them so I decided to withdraw rather than get my eyes scratched out.’
‘Then he wasn’t the love of your life?’
‘No way. I was only filling in because they’d split up!’
‘I think he needs his head read,’ the man remarked thoughtfully. ‘Do you dance, señorita? It would be a pity not to do that gorgeous outfit justice.’ His gaze roamed up and down her figure.
‘That’s what I always think when I’m wearing it,’ Aurora replied simply, although conscious of a tremor running through her, sparked by that heavy-lidded dark gaze on her body. And she knew instinctively that her sensuous pleasure in herself, brought on by this outfit, had communicated itself to this stranger—in other words it had been a mistake to wear it. But how was she to have known she would bump into the one man who would sense that, where others mightn’t?
She also caught herself thinking that this stranger was dynamite, and she should possibly exercise due caution or she might find herself willingly led down the garden path…
That was nonsense, she immediately corrected the thought, another flight of sheer fantasy! All the same, it wouldn’t go astray to take care.
She said, whimsically, ‘I won’t treat you to a full flamenco, though.’
‘Could you?’
‘I took lessons in Spain a few months ago. They called me the pocket señorita.’
He studied her upturned face until she moved restlessly beneath the way his gaze took in her eyes, then rested squarely on her mouth before he said pensively, ‘Why do I get the feeling you could be a pocket dynamo all round, Miss…?’
But Aurora, who found her heart beating abnormally and her senses all at sixes and sevens beneath not only the way this man was looking at her but everything about him, clutched a straw of sanity. ‘I’d rather remain anonymous at the moment,’ she said with a delicious look of fun in her eyes. ‘If you don’t tread on my toes or have sweaty palms I might reconsider, but I’m not promising anything.’
He didn’t reply, only inclined his head, took her in his arms and swung her into the beat of the music. Then he stopped and frowned down at her again, but only for a moment before he rather absently steered her through the dancers.
As for Aurora, she also found herself dancing mechanically for several reasons. A determination not to be overly impressed by this man on such short notice, but also because of a prickling sense of déjà vu. Why, though? she wondered. She was quite sure she’d never met him before—he was not the kind of man you forgot—so it had to be because she was back on the terrace of her old home, only—that didn’t seem to fit.
‘Have I offended some other, unnamed principle of yours, Miss Anonymous? Body odour or bad breath?’ he drawled, breaking her out of her frowning reverie.
Her eyes widened. ‘Uh…no, sorry, nothing like that at all! You smell quite nice in a manly way.’ She inhaled delicately. ‘I’m not partial to overpowering aftershave or cologne on men.’
‘Neither am I,’ he said abruptly. ‘You, on the other hand, use a particularly delicate, floral perfume.’
‘Thank you! It is rather nice, isn’t it? I have it specially made up for me by a friend who is into that kind of thing.’
‘So it’s—uniquely yours?’ There was a rather intent little gleam in his eyes as he asked the question.
‘Yes. Do you have a problem with that?’ she asked curiously.
‘No. Why should I?’
‘I don’t know. You just looked a bit—’ she shrugged ‘—censorious about my perfume.’
He smiled faintly. ‘I think it all goes towards making you rather special.’ He held her away and looked down at her consideringly before raising his eyes to hers. ‘Do you have anyone in your life—when you’re not helping hapless men friends out?’
Aurora, once more clasped in his arms, began to dance again. ‘I don’t think we know each other well enough to go into that. Unless you’d like to set the ball rolling by telling me about your love life?’ She raised an eyebrow delicately at him.
‘In point of fact I happen to be—unattached at the moment,’ he responded gravely.
‘And on the prowl,’ Aurora suggested with an undercurrent of irony.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Could be that my antennae are picking up those vibes about you,’ she replied ingenuously. ‘In fact, I warned myself to be on guard against being led down the garden path not long after we started to dance.’
He laughed, and there was something curiously breathtaking about it despite Aurora’s wish to be unimpressed by him. Because it revealed a vitality that made you want to laugh too, and made you want to get to know this man, who could be so damningly bored at times then respond so fascinatingly to something you’d said—so that you felt absolutely fascinated yourself.
‘I have yet to resort to leading a girl down the garden path,’ he denied, ‘although the opposite may not be true.’
Aurora blinked and wrinkled her brow. ‘You have a problem with girls leading you down the
