And you,” he said, holding her gaze, “are the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Her stomach flip-flopped, a wave of betraying heat rising from her chest to fill her cheeks. “Hardly true. The princess is hosting, after all.”
“She has a layer of ice that surrounds her. You do not.”
Alex swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat, finding herself unable to pull her gaze away from his smoky, sexy one. “I’m afraid I’m not available as a diversion.”
“Because you are here for someone else?”
“Because I really must see who I need to see, then go.”
“One dance.” He held out a lean-fingered, bronzed hand. “Then you can get on with your business.”
He made it seem rude, impolite to refuse. Over his shoulder, she could see the king and queen still immersed in conversation. Perhaps it would be better to say yes to a dance rather than stand around at loose ends looking painfully out of place as she clearly had been.
“All right,” she said, placing her palm in his much larger one. “I would love to.”
He wrapped his fingers around hers. “Aristos,” he drawled. “And you are...?”
Her brain froze, her clear thinking not aided by the two glasses of champagne she’d consumed. “Kara,” she said after a pause. Better to continue the facade.
Not that it was easy to keep anything straight in her head with the energy that pulsed between them, moving from his fingers through her body until she was buzzing with the intensity of it.
His tall, impressive physique parted the crowds easily as he led her toward the dance floor, where a live band was playing a slow, sexy jazz number.
Aristos laced his fingers through hers, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into a close hold that had her pulse racing. His smooth, skillful steps as he directed her around the packed space surprised her for such a solidly built male.
“So,” he said, leveling his gaze on her face, “how do you know the princess?”
Her stomach seized. A natural question, she told herself. Relax.
“We’re friends,” she said, repeating what Kara had told her. “We’re on a few of the same charitable boards.”
He inclined his head. “And what do you do when you aren’t tending to these...charitable endeavors?”
She blinked. Thought furiously. But a few scattered conversations with Kara hadn’t provided that depth of information. “Mostly that,” she murmured awkwardly. “My father has a large philanthropic portfolio. He needs the help.”
“And where is home?”
“Texas,” she said faintly, as if that would make up for her lack of a drawl.
“Funny, you don’t sound like a Southerner.”
Her mouth went even drier. Diavole, but this had been a bad idea. “I think I’ve lost my accent,” she prevaricated. “I travel so much I’ve become somewhat...international.”
His mouth twisted. “I get that one hundred percent. It’s the same with me.” His hand tightened around hers as he spun her in a smooth circle. “Texas is a big state. Which part?”
She had no idea. “Dallas,” she said, guessing.
“The home of J.R. Ewing...”
She smiled a tight smile. “The very same. And you?” she asked, attempting to regain control of the conversation. “How do you know Stella?”
“I’m a business partner of the king.”
Oh, no. Not good. Swallowing her panic, she lifted her gaze to his. “What business would that be?”
“Hotels and casinos. A bit of this, a bit of that.”
She thought that fit perfectly with his dark, edgy vibe. “That must be a very...interesting world.”
His mouth quirked. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not a gambler. It seems to me you prey on the vulnerable. Take unsuspecting people’s money.”
“Those who walk into a casino do so of their own volition.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but do they always know their limits?”
“They should. I find there is an epidemic of late of people who have no sense of personal responsibility. We are all responsible for our own actions.”
Yes, she agreed silently, hysteria biting at the edges of her composure. That concept was top of mind at the moment.
“Perhaps true,” she conceded. “Although I’m not sure it’s a fair comparison. I’m an idealist. I think we all need to be looking out for the greater good.”
“A dying breed,” he said softly, his dark gaze resting on her face. “Idealists...”
He left it at that. She shut up before she said something she shouldn’t. She should have protested when he tugged her closer so his tall, muscular body brushed against hers, his chin resting atop her head. But when there was no talking involved, there was no danger in exposing herself.
She couldn’t resist allowing herself to melt into all that strength, just for a moment, of course, until the dance was over. It felt hedonistically good, frankly exciting to be in his arms, and when would she ever have another chance to meet a man like him? Stunning-looking members of the opposite sex were a precious commodity in Stygos. She’d known all of them since childhood.
The plaintive, haunting notes of the saxophone were beautiful. The champagne had kicked in full force now, leaving in its wake a heady buzzing feeling that instilled a confidence in her she hadn’t had before. It made the dangerous attraction she felt toward the man holding her even more powerful. Made her even more aware of the strong column of his thighs as they pressed against her, driving home how powerfully built he was. How the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with the heady male musk of him was doing crazy things to her insides...
The warmth of his hand splayed at her waist burned her skin like a brand through the thin silk of her dress. It made her wonder what it would be like to be touched by him. Truly touched by him.
Her champagne-clouded brain was floating in a sea of pheromones when the song came to an end. She moved to extract her fingers from his, but he tightened his hold. “One more.”
She should have ended it right there. But it was far too tempting to say yes. A glance over his shoulder revealed the king still deep in conversation. How harmful was one more dance?
He pulled her closer, their bodies perfectly aligning as they moved to the sultry notes of the song. It was an inappropriate hold, she knew, the heat of him moving through her like the most potent of caresses, his hand drifting lower to lie against the small of her back. But her sensible side seemed to have deserted her. He was the dark, mysterious hero of her favorite
