was a shame, given that he was partial to slender, cool-looking blondes, especially ones with gorgeous blue eyes and mouths just made for sin.
‘Please, call me Jeremy,’ he insisted as he subtly looked her up and down. ‘No one calls me Mr Barker-Whittle, not even Madge. Especially not Madge,’ he added with a laugh. ‘By the way, Madge said that we should offer two character names to auction off, not just one,’ he invented. ‘If that’s all right with you.’
‘What? Oh, yes. Yes. That would be...great. Thank you.’
He’d thrown her a little, which was exactly what he’d wanted to do. For a split second she was the Alice he’d talked to on the phone. Sweet and grateful. But then that chilly mask slipped back into place.
Not that Jeremy was giving up. He had all evening to accomplish the thawing of Alice. If nothing else, he would enjoy the challenge. After all, it wasn’t every day that a member of the opposite sex challenged him, especially single ones. He’d duly noted the lack of rings on either hand, a sure sign that she was neither married nor engaged. Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t have a boyfriend or a partner. Though surely any boyfriend or partner worth his salt would have accompanied her here tonight. If one existed and he’d made a deliberate choice not to come, then the fool deserved to lose out. On second thought, however, Jeremy doubted there was some man waiting in the wings. That air of touch-me-not that she had about her would not encourage the average modern male.
Jeremy smiled wryly at the knowledge that he was far from average, or in the slightest deterred in his pursuit of the gorgeous Alice. She’d sparked curiosity in him from the first moment he’d heard that cut-glass voice of hers. Now that he’d met her, his curiosity was joined by desire, Jeremy resolving not to rest till she agreed to go out with him.
‘You were going to show me the layout in the ballroom,’ he reminded her. ‘But first, let me take your coat...’
* * *
Panic churned in Alice’s stomach at the thought of taking her coat off, of exposing more of herself to this man’s far too sexy gaze. If he thought she hadn’t noticed the way he’d looked her over, he was sadly mistaken. Alice knew men found her attractive. It was a burden most blondes with nice figures and pretty faces had to put up with. Fortunately, these days, she didn’t attract too much male attention, always going to work with her hair pulled back, no make-up on and wearing jeans. Tonight, however, she was looking her very best. Silently, she cursed Fiona for lending her this revealing dress, plus spraying her with all that expensive perfume. The make-up she only had herself to blame for. But at the time, she hadn’t known she’d be spending the evening in the company of a man who could make her want to be different from the woman she’d become.
At least she’d put her hair up, though not into its usual scraped-back ponytail. It was fashioned into a sleek sophisticated bun, worn slightly on one side, the latest style for formal occasions. Still, better than it being down. Pity about the dangling diamanté earrings she’d chosen to wear, however, and which swung against her bare neck when she walked. Alice contemplated telling him she would keep her coat on but he was already moving behind her and, really, she could hardly go all night with a calf-length coat flapping around her legs. Without glancing over her shoulder at him, she reached up to push the coat back off her shoulders—it wasn’t the kind that had buttons—sucking in sharply when she felt his fingertips brush over the nape of her neck. A shiver ricocheted down her spine as the coat slid down her arms, presumably into his waiting hands. She was too shaken to turn and look. Too shocked.
What kind of power did this man have to make her feel like this? So swiftly and so surely. Alice had felt sexual attraction before; she hadn’t always been so wary of it. She’d found the thought of sex fascinating from the time puberty hit, spending a lot of her teenage years indulging in romantic fantasies over various handsome actors. Then there’d been that charmer at college, the tall dark and handsome one she’d been attracted to despite everything, the one who’d convinced her he returned her feelings. And so she’d agreed to go out with him. More fool her!
But the attraction she’d felt on that occasion paled into insignificance compared to this highly charged feeling that was currently sweeping through Alice. It was madness, this urge she had to throw caution to the winds, to forget all the lessons she’d learned about men, to ignore Fiona’s warnings and just let Jeremy Barker-Whittle have his wicked way with her. Which, of course, was what he wanted to do. He was a playboy, wasn’t he? That was what playboys did.
But not with me, Alice decided as she marshalled all her willpower. Not tonight. Not ever.
‘I’ll just go over and check this in,’ he said smoothly after she turned to finally look at him. ‘Then we can proceed.’
He walked the same way he did everything, she noted ruefully. With style and casual elegance. Nothing hurried. Nothing awkward. Far too soon he was walking back towards her, this time his gaze openly admiring.
‘Nothing beats a little black dress, does it?’ he said as he took her elbow and steered her over to the bank of lifts. ‘The concierge informed me that the ballroom is on the first floor,’ he added, before she could ask what in hell he was doing. Not that she would have phrased it like that.
Still, she extricated her arm from his hold as soon as possible, sending him a look that held the silent but definite message that he was to keep his hands to himself. No way was she going to let him take control of the evening. Or of her. No way!
* * *
Jeremy resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. But truly, she was like a heroine out of a Victorian romance novel. Not that he’d read any, but he could imagine what such a woman would be like. All prissy and uptight, looking down her nose at men, especially ones who dared put a finger on her virginal flesh.
Alice would have been perfect for such a role, except for three factors. First, that dress. Strapless and very fitted, it gave him a clear picture of what she would look like naked. Very nice indeed, with high firm breasts, an athletically flat stomach, a deliciously small waist, long shapely legs and just enough hip and bottom for stroking. Second was the way she’d stared at him when she’d first arrived. That was not the stare of some prissy virgin. Her eyes had fairly ogled him, betraying that she’d found him as sexually attractive as he found her.
And then there was the way her whole body had quivered when his hand had brushed the back of her neck. It had been quite accidental. Jeremy wasn’t in the habit of indulging in sly, lecherous touching. He never needed to. That Alice had reacted in such a way had been very telling. The woman who’d wrenched out of his hold just now should have whirled around and glared her disapproval. But she hadn’t.
During the short ride up to the first floor in the lift, Jeremy concluded that Alice Waterhouse was nothing but a fraud. Her Ice Princess act with him was just that. An act. What was behind this pretence, he had no idea. But he aimed to find out.
THE BALLROOM WAS INDEED, Alice already knew, on the first floor. She’d been there earlier today, checking that everything was being set up according to her instructions. She’d also taken personal responsibility for putting the name cards in place, having paid great attention to the guests’ wishes when it came to seating. Each card also doubled as an auction number, being T-shaped, with the guest’s name on the front and their number on the back.
Alice exited the lift first, anxious not to give Jeremy the opening to take her arm once
