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. In fact he was studying her face as if she were one of the exhibits in the museum. Was her mascara smudged? She wasn’t very good at applying make-up. Worse! Did she have sandwich stuck in her teeth?
Closing her mouth, she checked discreetly with her tongue.
‘Not only did we meet before, we’re almost family, Leila.’
‘Sorry...’ When Raffa’s eyes smiled into hers, she couldn’t think straight. ‘Family?’
‘Sí,’ Raffa insisted in his addictive Spanish drawl. ‘Now the second member of the consortium is marrying a Skavanga sister, there’s only us two left. There’s no need to look so shocked, Señorita Skavanga. I only meant that perhaps we can get to know each other a little better now.’
Did he really want to?
Why did he want to?
Instantly suspicious of why such a devastatingly successful, good-looking man would want to get to know her better, she blurted, ‘I don’t have many shares in the company.’
Raffa laughed then forced a gasp out of her as he bowed over her hand. ‘I don’t have any intention of stealing your shares, Leila.’
How could someone brushing his lips over the back of her hand cause so much sensation? She’d read about things like this. Before they were married or engaged her sisters had talked incessantly about romantic encounters, but this was a whole new world for Leila. Not that Raffa meant to be romantic. It was just his way of putting her at ease.
So why was it having the opposite effect?
People were still pouring up the steps to the party, pressing in on them from every side, making conversation impossible, let alone making it easy to move away from each other. And she was hopeless at small talk. The weather? It was always cold in Skavanga. That would keep them talking for all of ten seconds. But this was a Skavanga sisters’ party, and Raffa was their guest, so it was up to her to make him feel welcome.
Bracing herself, she launched in. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your trip to Skavanga.’
He seemed amused by her opening sally. ‘I am now.’
This was accompanied by a slanting smile that would bring Hollywood to its knees.
‘It’s been back-to-back business meetings for me before tonight,’ he explained, his face turning serious, which was another great look for him. ‘I just finished another meeting.’
‘So you’re staying here at the hotel?’
She blushed as Raffa held her gaze and frowned slightly. He probably thought she was coming on to him, when that was a typical example of Leila Skavanga out of her depth and swimming frantically to reach the shore. Or, to put it another way: she had zero small talk.
Fortunately, Raffa had turned to assess the logistics of making it through the door without being trampled on. ‘It seems to have quietened down a bit. Shall we go in?’
‘Oh, I can make it from here,’ she insisted, guessing he was longing to get away.
‘Don’t look so worried, Leila,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re going to love the party. Trust me...’
Trust Raffa Leon? When everyone knew his reputation? ‘I’d better find my sisters, but thank you for your assurance—and for your great save,’ she added as an afterthought, smiling.
‘Don’t mention it.’
His eyes were warm and luminous, and they plumbed deep, considering Raffa Leon was practically a stranger. This only made her more determined to stick to her original plan, which was to share a quick drink with her sisters, eat dinner—without spilling food down her, if possible—and then indulge in a little non-controversial chit-chat before shooting off as soon as she politely could.
‘You’re shivering, Leila—’
Oh... She was, she realised now.
‘And you’re laughing?’
She bit her lip, to stop thinking about the Raffa effect, and how her shivering had nothing to do with the freezing cold.
‘Here—put my overcoat on...’
‘Oh, no, I—’
Too late! She might have a perfectly good jacket, but Raffa’s reflexes were too fast for her and now she had his coat draped round her shoulders. It was hard to pretend she wasn’t distracted by his residual heat in the coat, or by the fact that it still carried the faint imprint of his cologne.
‘How did you get all this mud on your dress, Leila?’
As he noticed everything she decided to make a joke of it. ‘I...um...slipped away for a minute?’
He laughed. ‘And I thought I saved you.’
‘Almost.’
‘Next time I’ll have to do better.’
‘Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. It was my fault for chatting to the cabbie instead of looking where I was going.’
Raffa’s mouth kicked up at one corner as his eyes lit in a conspiratorial smile. ‘The landing wasn’t too hard, I hope?’
It was hard not to laugh. ‘Only my pride got bruised.’
‘I think we’d better go inside before you have another accident, don’t you, Leila?’
His smile was indefensibly sexy, she concluded, dragging her gaze away, but it was nice to have a man take care of her for once, especially when she was Ms Independence—not that she was going to make a habit of it, but for a few short minutes on this one special night, it couldn’t hurt to lap up his aura, and she was quite sure Don Leon would find some excuse or other to part company as soon as they were inside the hotel.
* * *
So, he’d finally met the third Skavanga sister. And for longer than a ten-second handshake in a receiving line. She had turned out to be quite a surprise. Tense, but funny, Leila Skavanga was hugely lacking in self-confidence for some reason. He didn’t blame her for not relishing the prospect of a party—false smiles and meaningless chit-chat weren’t his favourite form of recreation either.
It was hard being the youngest in a
