The kind of pleasure he wanted to give to her.
Black ice, indeed.
Dani stood her ground, putting everything she shouldn’t be feeling—but was, dammit—out there for him to see. The prickling of her skin, the stuttering of her heart, her quickness of breath: she made sure Rand didn’t miss any of it.
Triumph flickered in his gaze. He nodded, slowly, then—
“Mr. Winston!” Dani stood aside abruptly as Erin’s boss, a pencil-thin woman in an electric blue dress, glided up beside them. Three eager bobble-heads followed behind her, and Dani hid a smirk, her equilibrium restored. Rand was well and truly caught now, no matter what Princess Popsicle beside him wanted. “What a lovely surprise.”
“I’ll send for it,” he said to Dani, and she blinked at him, clutching the clipboard to her chest to keep the charade going. The boss woman, not knowing who the hell Dani was but clearly recognizing her own gallery’s clipboard and putting the pieces together, smiled benevolently at her. Right on cue, Dani turned on her heel, her breathing still too fast, her color still a bit too high.
All part of the act, of course.
Or mostly, anyway.
She grinned widely as Erin stared at her across the room, then trotted toward the rear of the gallery—still uptight, of course, still worried, at least to anyone who couldn’t see her face. The nervous stride of a gallery flunky who would now have to inform some very unhappy patron of the arts that he’d just had his beloved painting bought out from under him, not ten minutes into a gallery showing. By someone with a “Four” after his name, no less.
She’d nailed it.
She might have been momentarily distracted, sure, but she’d nailed it.
What was better: A good con, or great sex?
Score one for the con.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
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