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That strange, disturbing, subliminal shiver seemed to go through her again as the thought passed across the surface of her mind.
‘Ms Lassiter …’
The voice acknowledging her clipped greeting was deep, almost a drawl. There was an accent to it, but not an identifiable one. She didn’t need a foreign name, or a foreign accent, to know that the last thing this lean, powerful, disturbing man was British. The natural olive hue of his tanned skin, the sloe-darkness of his eyes, the sable of his hair and the strong, striking features all told her that—had told her so right from the moment she’d set eyes on him.
Her eyes flickered over him again, trying not to see him, trying to shut him out. She saw something glint briefly, swiftly gone, in his dark, black-lashed eyes—something that exacerbated the strange shiver that was still going through her.
She fought for control. Self-control. This was ridiculous! Absurd to be so affected by a complete stranger—some rich, foreign business acquaintance of her father that she neither knew nor cared about, nor had any reason at all to be so … so … reactive to!
Her spine stiffened and she could feel the motion drawing her body slightly away from Leon Maranz’s powerful orbit. Withdrawing a fraction—an essential fraction. Again, just for a barest moment, she thought she saw that dark glint in his eyes come again, and vanish.
She took a breath, instinctively knowing she was being less than courteous but feeling an almost atavistic urge to get away from the impact he was having on her. She gave the barest nod of acknowledgement to his return of her greeting, then turned her head towards her father. The relief of being able to look away was palpable.
‘I must check with the caterers,’ she announced. ‘Do excuse me.’
She could see her father’s face darken, knew she was being borderline rude, but she couldn’t help it. Every instinct was telling her to go—get away—right away from the man she’d just been introduced to.
Her glance flickered back to him, as brief as she could make it. His expression was empty, closed. She knew she was being impolite, but she didn’t care. Couldn’t afford to allow herself to care about her rudeness, her glaringly obvious reluctance to engage in any kind of social exchange with him.
‘Mr Maranz.’ Again the barest nod towards him, and then she turned on her heel trying not to hurry, as she found herself wanting to do, to wave to the doors leading into the dining room, where a sumptuous buffet had been laid out by the hired caterers.
As she gained the sanctuary of the other room she felt her tension immediately ease. But not her heart-rate. That, she realised, was still elevated.
Why? Why was she reacting like this to that man?
She’d met any number of rich, foreign businessmen at her father’s social gatherings—so why was this one playing havoc with her nerves?
Because none of them had ever looked the way this one did!
None of them had had those dark, saturnine looks. None of them had had that packed, powerful frame. None of them had had that air about them that spoke not just of wealth but a lot more …
But what was that more …?
As she made herself walk the length of the buffet, pretending to inspect it, absently lifting a silver fork here and there to occupy herself, she knew exactly what that ‘more’ was. Whatever name you gave it, he had it—in spades.
She took an inward breath. It didn’t matter what he had, or that he had it, she told herself resolutely. And it certainly didn’t matter that she’d taken one look at him and felt its impact the way she had. Leon Maranz might be the most compellingly attractive man in the universe—it was nothing to her! Could be nothing to her.
Her face tightened grimly. She would never, never have anything to do with anyone she’d met through her father! Oh, he’d been keen enough on the idea of her socialising in that way—had actively encouraged it, despite her gritty resistance to any further manipulation by him for his own ends. Leon Maranz was part of her father’s world—and that meant she wanted nothing to do with him, whatever the impact he had on her!
Her expression changed. Bleakly she stared at the picture hanging on the wall above the buffet table. There was another overpowering reason why it was pointless for her to react in any way at all to Leon Maranz. Even if he’d been nothing to do with her father she still couldn’t have anything to do with him.
She wasn’t free to have anything to do with any man.
Sadness pierced her. Her life was not her own now—it was dedicated to her grandmother, dedicated to caring for her in this the twilight of her life. It was her grandmother who needed her, and after all her grandmother had done in raising her, caring for her and loving her, devoting her life to her, she would never, never abandon her!
Flavia’s eyes shadowed. Day by day the dementia was increasing, taking away more and more of the grandmother she loved so much, and whilst it broke her heart to see her declining, it was even worse to think of what must inevitably one day happen. But until that time came she would look after her grandmother—whatever it took. Including, she knew, dancing to her father’s tune like this.
Other than these brief, unwelcome periods away from home, she would confine her life entirely to the needs of her grandmother, stay constantly at her side. She would do nothing that wasn’t in her grandmother’s best interests. And if that meant denying herself the kind of life that she might have been leading as an independent solo woman of twenty-five—well, she would accept that.
So it really didn’t matter a jot that her father’s guest had had such a powerful impact on her—it was completely irrelevant! Leon Maranz was nothing to do with her, could be nothing to her, and would stay that way.
She gave a little shake of her head. For heaven’s sake—just because he’d had an impact on her, obviously it didn’t mean she’d had an impact on him. OK, so he’d seen her looking at him when he’d been standing near the doorway, but so what? With looks like his, a magnetically brooding presence like his, every other women here would have done the same—were doubtless doing it right now! All she had to do was get a grip, stop reacting to him in this ridiculous way, and avoid him for the rest of the evening. Simple.
‘Tell me, are you always so short with your guests?’
She spun round, dismay and shock etched in her face.
Leon Maranz was standing not a metre away from her in the empty room. His expres
