a half-smile. “You’re right. I wouldn’t at all. I have a dinner party that I’m expected to attend tonight and I need a date.”
“Did you misplace your little black book?”
He gave her a pained look. “I don’t have a black book.” He picked up his gleaming cellphone and waved it. “That would be old-fashioned.”
She felt her lips thinning into an unattractive line. “You’re straight out of the Dark Ages. A BlackBerry isn’t going to fix that.”
“Nice to know you hold me in such high regard, cara. Did you drive here?”
She eyed him warily. “No. I took a cab.”
“Perfect. You can ride with me.”
“And if I have plans?”
“Cancel them. As per our agreement,” he said.
“As per your demands.”
“If you like.” He seemed completely unconcerned by her anger, which only fanned the flame. “But I can hardly show up at this dinner without my new, highly publicized fiancée.”
“Just tell them your fiancée has a life, and doesn’t just hang on your arm professionally twenty-four hours a day.”
“Oh, they know you don’t do that. I’m sure they think you spend at least twelve hours wrapped around me in bed.”
She flushed, her vocal cords failing her. The images that were pinging through her brain were graphic, and much more intriguing than she’d like to admit.
She had done so well, burying any interest in the opposite sex beneath piles of ambition. Then she’d walked into Marco De Luca’s office and her long-ignored hormones had sprung to life and hadn’t left her alone since.
“In any case, I need you to play your part. This is business, remember?” He said the last part with a mocking edge to his voice.
“I won’t forget.”
* * *
The dinner party was hardly the intimate affair she’d imagined. There were at least two hundred of Manhattan’s most elite social movers in attendance, and it made it hard for her not to be grateful for the dress Marco’s efficient PA had provided for her at the last minute.
It was too short and too tight for her taste, but judging by the similarly bedecked Barbie dolls that were hanging on their date’s arms the look was par for the course.
Marco gave the stunning, reed-slim hostess a kiss on both cheeks before putting his hand on Elaine’s back and introducing her. “This is my fiancée, Elaine Chapman. Elaine, this is Caroline Vance. She’s the chairperson of the De Luca House charity.”
“Nice to meet you.” She shook the other woman’s perfectly manicured hand, and held back the questions that were forming in her mind. Marco had never mentioned that he had a charity, but his fiancée would certainly know all about it. Well, a real fiancée would at any rate. She was clueless.
“Nice to meet you too.” Caroline smiled warmly. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when Marco would settle down. He’s always preferred life in the fast lane.” She shot Marco a teasing look. “I guess you’re merging into the carpool lane, huh?”
The smile on Marco’s face looked forced to Elaine, but Caroline didn’t seem to notice. “Yes. It was time. When I met Elaine I knew I couldn’t let her get away.”
“Welcome to the club. You’ll enjoy it.” She gave Marco’s arm a squeeze.
Marco paused and pulled his checkbook from his pocket, and filled in an amount that made Elaine’s eyes widen.
Caroline took the check from Marco’s hand, a broad smile on her pretty face. “He’s generous to a fault,” she said, her comment directed at Elaine.
Elaine smiled back, hoping she didn’t look as confused as she felt. “Yes, he is.”
Marco chuckled darkly as Caroline fluttered off to greet the next couple that was entering the ballroom. He took her arm and led her to a cluster of tables that were designed with intimacy in mind. They were small—so small that when she took her seat and Marco took his their knees brushed beneath the table. Her heart sputtered.
“All of the food, and all the prep work that went into the food was donated,” he explained. “The guests paid two hundred dollars for each plate. All of the proceeds will go to the De Luca House.”
She smiled. “That’s great. What is the charity for?”
A shadow passed over his face for a brief moment. “Homeless children. It’s an issue that’s close to my heart.”
She realized at that moment just how little she knew about the man sitting across from her. His background wasn’t exactly a mystery, but there hadn’t been a lot of information on his childhood either. She’d found out through her careful research that his father had been a wealthy Sicilian businessman who had moved his family to New York when Marco had been a young teenager. But between that event and his meteoric rise to success in the real estate industry and beyond she hadn’t been able to find any details about his life. She’d just assumed he’d been growing up. Now she wondered. Marco claimed he was a self-made man, which meant that he’d built his empire up without the aid of his father’s riches.
She looked at him. He was engaged in a conversation with the couple next to them, his speech pattern eloquent, his manner perfect. His profile was aristocratic, and he wore tuxedos as though the whole concept of formalwear had been built around his physique. He didn’t look like a man who had ever struggled for anything.
At that moment, though, no amount of research into his background could have prepared her for the very disturbing effect Marco was having on her. She could hardly taste the gourmet dinner that had been prepared for the evening. Every few minutes her knees would brush Marco’s beneath the table, or someone would come to speak to Marco and congratulate them on their engagement, and Marco would take her hand and look lovingly into her eyes. Or, worse still, he would draw her hand to his lips and press a tender kiss to her knuckles and send the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach into tailspins.
When the plates were cleared, after-dinner drinks were served—which Elaine declined. Her defenses were weakened already. No sense at all throwing alcohol on the burning fire of her attraction to Marco. So instead she sat still in her chair, ramrod-straight, trying her best to smile at everyone who cast a glance in her direction, and trying not to jump a foot in the air every time Marco’s leg made contact with hers.
Tinkling crystal distracted her, and Elaine looked across the room at Caroline, who was standing on a riser at the far end of the room.
Caroline cleared her throat and the hum of conversation diminished. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming this evening. Your support means a tremendous amount. And I’d like to introduce the founder of De Luca House—Mr. Marco De Luca.”
Marco gave her a wry smile, stood from his seat and bent down to drop a lingering kiss on her cheek before he crossed the long expanse of the room. She couldn’t help but notice the sheer masculine grace his movements possessed. He stepped on the stage, his magnetic
