her to finish her answer before setting his glass on the tray of a passing waiter then wrapping his hand around hers to move to the dance floor. When he turned to face her, his other palm slid from her waist to the small of her back. She slipped her hand up the soft fabric of his jacket to rest it on his shoulder, and her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him.
The orchestra struck up a new tune, and they began to move. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
“Thank you for inviting me. It’s been lovely.”
“Even though you didn’t want to at first?”
“Even though.” She wasn’t about to tell him why, and at the moment that seemed unfathomable. Because being so close to him, with all that heat from his body skimming across her bare arms and décolletage, felt wonderful.
On a slow turn, he brought her close enough that her breasts brushed his chest, and he lowered his mouth closer to her ear. “So why didn’t you want to, Gabriella?”
“Because you’re arrogant and bossy.”
“Yes. Among other things.” The chandelier cast light and shadows across his chiseled face and the bow of his lips as he smiled. “I thought we worked out a few of those issues when we went to dinner together. Which reminds me, I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
His smile had disappeared and when he opened his mouth to answer he hesitated. Then, to her surprise, the words that came out were, “Uh-oh,” and his attention seemed to be grabbed by something behind her.
She turned to see James standing mostly hidden at the back of the room behind the band. With him, instead of his date, was Mila Brightman and even from this distance it was obvious that Mila was hopping mad about something, and giving it to James with both barrels.
“Oh, dear. What do you think is wrong?”
“I don’t know. I hope it’s not— Never mind.” A deep frown creased Rafael’s brow as he shook his head. “I was about to tell you—”
But before he could finish, the band stopped playing and Freya stepped onto the platform to speak into the microphone about the event and why they were all there tonight. After thanking the hosts and giving some details about the Bright Hope Clinic, she advised everyone to enjoy desserts and drinks as there would shortly be a video presentation about some of the patients who’d been helped there.
“I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve done our duty,” Rafael said, leaning close to speak in her ear. “What do you say to a little dine and dash?”
“Dine and dash? Do princes do that? I have to admit the mental image of you gobbling food then furtively sneaking out the door is hard to picture.” Since she hadn’t seen him any way but tall, proud, and very visible, that was an understatement. “But I can’t say I’d complain about leaving soon. I’m about talked out.”
“You know how it is, trying to say goodbyes and exit an event like this. Takes at least another hour, so let’s get the process started.”
She didn’t, really. If she walked out the door that second, she was quite sure not a soul would bother her, but she’d already seen the attention Rafael garnered, and could well believe he’d be stopped by half the crowd en route.
Which was exactly what happened. And each time he was stopped he took pains to draw her into the conversation. Not only did he introduce her to everyone with glowing compliments about her skills as a midwife, stating again how lucky The Hollywood Hills Clinic was to have her, there was something else in his eyes and expression as he did so.
Something that didn’t seem like simple professional admiration. Instead, it felt much more personal.
That odd mix of excitement and dismay rolled around her belly all over again, which was dangerous. Yes, it was a magical night. But she couldn’t let the magic of it allow her to forget. She couldn’t risk a relationship with any man, even one as amazing as Rafael. And, yes, she knew a man like Rafael Moreno would want only a fling, but even that would be too much.
Why was she even thinking he’d want that, anyway? Must be the Cinderella feeling she’d had all evening, wearing a dress far fancier than she’d ever worn before, on a date with pretty much the world’s most handsome bachelor prince. The feel of his big, possessive hand holding hers or resting on her lower back. The compliments. The way he looked at her for long moments as though they were totally alone.
She shook her head fiercely at herself. The man doubtless acted like that with all women at parties, and especially those on a date with him, and to read anything more into it was plain foolish. Probably flirting came to him as naturally as the charm he’d exuded all evening. As naturally as the arrogant rudeness he’d bestowed on her when they’d first met.
Any woman would be intrigued by a multifaceted man like Rafael Moreno. None of it meant a thing—not his flirting and not the googly eyes she caught herself making at him. Tomorrow she’d be wearing her scrubs again, they’d go back to their normal, cordial working relationship and tonight would be forgotten.
Trying to bring her mind back to the conversation, she watched his mouth move as he talked to friends of James he obviously knew, and the sensuality of his lips pretty much obliterated all her previous self-scolding. Her ability to converse. Her thoughts instead drifted to all wrong ones that gave her tummy a different kind of funny feeling. A feeling that she’d give her next paycheck to kiss him once, just to see how it would feel. Just once. Once before the strike of midnight—was that so much to ask?
She stared in fascination as he took a sip of his drink and his tongue licked a tiny drop from his lip. And with breathless certainty she knew. The man would be one amazing kisser.
“You probably agree with that, don’t you, Gabriella?”
Rafael had turned fully to her, the slight curve of his lips fading as their eyes met, and she foggily realized the people he’d been talking to had moved on. Several beats passed as they just stared at one another, and Gabby wished she had some idea how to answer him but had no clue.
His lids lowered slightly, and something hot and alive flickered inside that deep green. “You weren’t listening at all, were you, bella?” He stepped closer, his voice a low rumble. “Something else on your mind?”
Yeah. Oh, yeah, but I’m not saying what. Except she had a bad feeling it was written in red neon on her forehead for him to see anyway. Frantically trying to come up with an answer that wasn’t incriminating, she managed one word. “Sweatpants.”
A slow smile creased his face and made his eyes gleam. “Mine too, Gabriella. Let’s get out of here.”
“I don’t believe you even own sweatpants.”
“Not true. I have all the latest designers’ versions in every color, like any prince should.”
“Now you’re making fun of me. I wasn’t saying you wouldn’t have any because you’re a prince, it’s because...because...oh, never mind.” He might have been saying sweet and complimentary things about her all night, but it still felt strange to tell him what she’d been thinking. Which was that he exuded a regal confidence all too well suited by the tuxedo he wore. Then again, that same presence filled any room he was in at the clinic, even wearing scrubs, so clearly it had nothing to do with what he
