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She looked my way at that moment, and our gazes locked. Shock hit, freezing me in place. Her eyes were a muddy brown, but the irises were ringed by two separate colors - blue, and a pale amber. I knew those eyes. They were the eyes of the man from my past. The eyes of the man who'd visited me in the breeding center.
Only this wasn't a man, it was a woman.
The memories were faulty. Had to be. This wasn't possible.
Then the familiar scent swam around me, confirming the impossible was indeed possible.
It was Martin Hunt's wife, not Martin Hunt himself, who had used me in that breeding center. "Do we know each other?" Mrs. Hunt's question cut stridently across the babble of noise around us, causing several women in the group to turn and look at me.
"What?" Realizing immediately what I'd done, I blinked and forced surprise into my voice as I added, "Oh, I'm sorry. I was looking at the view. I didn't mean to appear like I was staring." Which, like a greenhorn damn fool, I had been.
"And you are?" Her voice was no less frosty than before, and grated my nerves as sharply as nails down a chalkboard. But it wasn't the voice of the person I'd heard in that place, and it only made my confusion that much stronger.
I gave her my best "no-one-is-home" smile, and held out a hand. "Barbie Jenkins."
She ignored the hand. "I can't recall a Barbie Jenkins on the list. Meryl?"
The woman identified as Meryl looked down her nose at me. Not a bad effort considering I was taller by a good three inches.
"No, there was no Barbie Jenkins on the guest list."
"Oh, that's because I came with a friend."
She raised a too-bushy eyebrow. "And the name of that friend?"
"Quinn O'Conor." I saw no harm in naming him, regardless of what my memories and senses were telling me about this woman. If she'd done the guest list, she'd know he was supposed to be here.
Her expression changed fractionally. She sniffed. Haughty didn't even begin to describe the sound. "He's a very generous supporter of the organization."
He was? That was news. But then, nearly everything about Quinn was news to me.
"Very generous," Meryl agreed gravely.
Meaning, obviously, that his choice of dinner partners would be overlooked because of it. If I wasn't so confused, I probably would have laughed at the old cows and their uptight attitudes - something that would surely have endeared me further.
"I'm sure he's going to continue his support," I gushed. "He's always saying what a wonderful - "
"Of course, dear. Thank you." She gave me an oh-so-insincere smile, and returned her attention to her friends.
Summarily dismissed, I quickly turned around and headed back into the crowd. I had no idea what was going on, but the one thing I needed to do was avoid Mrs. Hunt getting suspicious about me.
Only I didn't get all that far. A hand caught mine and I found myself being pulled into a body that was hard and familiar. The scent of warm leather and exotic spices wrapped around me, teasing my senses, stirring my hormones. Not Quinn. Kellen.
"Hello, Riley," he whispered, his breath so warm against my ear. "It's lovely to see you here."
Fate sure as hell was intent on playing games with my life - or was she merely trying to point me in the right direction?
I turned around to refute his statement, but as my gaze met his, the words died on my lips.
Because he knew. There was no doubt in his green eyes at all. Despite the disguise, despite my scent being covered, he knew it was me. And the depth of that recognition scared me. How could I connect so deeply with someone I didn't really know?
Someone who Quinn distrusted?
But what was perhaps even more scary was the fact that, unlike the Kellen I'd met in Melbourne, this Kellen was all alpha, all power, all need. The patience was gone. This wolf would take what he wanted, and what he wanted was me.
It was a thought that made my blood race. And yet I wasn't here to enjoy myself, wasn't here to play with a prospective mate.
But maybe, just maybe, he could help me with some information gathering.
