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‘I wanted to see if he is as thick.’

‘Elsie, that’s cruel.’

‘Thick as mince,’ her twin responded, unrepentant, then, behind her hand, added, ‘Don’t look now but…not a sex god, but the guy, the slightly sweaty one, who has been eyeing you up all evening…is heading this way…’

‘Oh, God!’

‘I don’t want to cramp your style and what Mark doesn’t see can’t hurt him.’ She mimed a zipping motion across her lips. ‘I won’t say a word.’

Ignoring her twin’s alarmed protest, she moved away, waving over her shoulder and winking before she was swallowed up by the crowd. By the time she got out the other side, Elsie had exhausted her supply of small talk and the idea of hiding in the Ladies seemed less of an attractive option when she opened the door and a choking cloud of mingled expensive perfume and vape smoke, accompanied by a blast of drunken giggles, assaulted her.

Her bedroom was not far away; it wouldn’t be much of a detour. Making a swift retreat, she headed for the lift, getting off on the floor where she and her sister shared an adjoining room with their parents. Unlike the exclusive suites on the premier floors, their rooms didn’t have an expensive view or private butler service, fruit bowls that looked like a work of art or a masseuse on tap, but they were a mere few steps away from the leisure suite, which Elsie had not had a chance as yet to take advantage of.

Gazing at her face in the illuminated mirror as she washed her hands, her thoughts turned wistfully to the Olympic-size pool the hotel boasted… A half an hour swim, even twenty minutes, and she would keep her hair dry…nobody was going to notice her absence and a swim would definitely refresh her social skills. Also, the odds were stacked in her favour when it came to getting the place to herself, considering the entire hotel appeared to be booked out for the ball. There were several guests who had taken entire floors for their entourages. The hairdressers, make-up artists and stylists staying outnumbered the debutantes!

She snatched her swimsuit from a drawer and made her way into the leisure suite. It took her a couple of blinks to adapt to the Roman theme, tasteful of course—this was exclusive Parisian Roman—but still an awful lot of mosaics and nymphs involved for someone more accustomed to swimming in a cold lake.

Her footsteps echoed. The place seemed deserted, but Elsie remained cautious as she located the luxurious changing area with fully fitted individual cubicles, where some of the tension left her shoulders.

Presumably, everyone was at the ball, which was, of course, where she ought to be. She pushed away the tickle of guilt, rationalising her retreat from the social frontline, figuring that this half-hour harmless—so long as she kept her hair dry—break was what she needed to get through the evening without committing a social faux pas and hopefully with her sanity intact.

She laid out the silk dress carefully, adding her underclothes, basically just pants. The dress had a boned bodice that didn’t allow for a bra or, for that matter, energetic movements, to avoid any potential wardrobe malfunction.

She stepped into the plain black sports swimsuit. Despite the fact she was slim, it took a bit of heaving and wriggling—there was a serious compression factor in the fabric that didn’t so much flatten her modest boobs as draw attention to her nipples.

She gave the dress one last careful check-over and hoped that she would be able to zip herself back into the strapless silk gown without assistance. Luckily, she was pretty supple, though she would have happily exchanged her agility for her less athletic twin’s extra cup size.

A quick glance in the wall of mirrors satisfied her that the extra bulldog clip had kept the artful wisps that framed her face safe and dry. Without the softening strands, the attention was all on the high sculpted curves of her cheeks, her cut-glass features and the delicate line of her jaw.

Shrugging into one of the inevitable fluffy robes, she walked past several doors before she reached the pool that all the hotel reviews raved about, and paused on the threshold—the raving was justified.

The Roman theme continued here, with a waterfall and lush greenery accommodated by a glass dome overhead. The moonlight shining down hit the underwater lights, giving a shimmering rainbow effect that lasted only a few magical moments, vanishing when she stepped fully into the room.

She had stripped off the robe, slung it on a lounger and walked across to the edge of the pool before she realised she wasn’t alone. A dark streamlined shadow revealed a figure who was swimming underwater. Her disappointment at not being able to enjoy the place alone faded as she watched the figure beneath the surface cutting through the water with strong economic strokes, the combination of strength and almost animal grace hypnotic to observe.

* * *

Leandro rarely had an empty mind and he relished every moment of the mindless physicality as he allowed the calm to seep through him, pushing his body through the water and enjoying the luxury of not thinking beyond the moment and the burn in his lungs and muscles.

It was something in the periphery of his vision that interrupted the moment. He paused, turned his head, his eyes trained on a shiny circlet that was spiralling downwards.

He watched it for a moment before diving deeper and catching the tiara, then surged upwards, his prize in his fingers. He broke the surface, water streaming down his bronzed face as he shook the drenched strands of hair away. He blinked to clear the water droplets from the lashes that glazed his view, smiling when his vision cleared.

‘Yours, I believe?’

The woman standing on the edge of the pool backed away, patting her glossy head, an expression of impressively authentic shock and dismay on her face.

A face that was made-up, but not overly so…tasteful and pretty good to look at, he conceded, and he had to give her top points for originality. He’d had women fling themselves at him in some pretty inventive ways, but this was a new slant on getting his attention.

And she had it.

You had to admire her enterprise.

There was more than enterprise to admire. The water temperature was not cold enough to cool the lick of lust that quivered down his front before solidifying in his groin as, treading water, he studied the soft clear-cut lines of her face.

A pure oval, big dramatically blue eyes set under arched feathered brows and framed by long straight lashes. Her rounded cheeks were carved, her nose classically straight and her cushiony lips had an enticing, imagination-fuelling, carnal curve. High on the neck and leg, her body in the black swimsuit was slim and supple. Her skin, pale next to the dark fabric, had the suggestion of a golden sheen.

She was tall and supple, her curves athletically slim, with endless shapely legs. He was a leg man.