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Suddenly, instead of looking at his back, she was staring once more at his front, at a rather indelicate level. She swallowed hard and jerked her head back, lifting her eyes to his face, and she had to swallow again at the transformation in his expression.
His hard mouth was curved in a wickedly sexy smile. 'Allow me,' he said in a deep velvet voice, and held out a very large hand.
Blushing to the roots of her hair, Beth grabbed the hand he offered and scrambled to her feet. She barely heard the numerous congratulations from the rest of the guests, or Mike's moment of triumph. Her whole attention was on the man before her.
Flushed and dishevelled, she had no idea how gorgeous she looked. She wasn't a conventionally beautiful woman, like her statuesque, elegant mother—for a start, Beth was only five feet two—but there was quite a lot else about her that was memorable. She had big eyes of a deep jade-green, a generously curved mouth and thick, naturally curly auburn hair, which had now sprung from the band holding it in check to riot around her small face in a rosy cloud. Unfortunately she also had a rather large bust that was in imminent danger of popping out of her top.
'Thank you,' she muttered, finally finding her voice, stumbling a little, scarlet with embarrassment. With her free hand she hastily adjusted her top, while her other hand stayed clasped in his much larger one. She looked up into his grey eyes and wondered how she had ever thought they were icy—now they were luminous, almost silver, and glittering with obvious appreciation. And his flashing smile was enough to make her want to collapse at his feet again.
'My pleasure. It isn't every day I get to rescue such a beautiful damsel in distress.'
He had said she was beautiful, and her own eyes widened in wonder as she drank in the sight of him. 'Tall, dark and handsome' did not do him justice. He was lethally attractive; he radiated a raw, primitive power that was unmistakable. Even in her bemused state she noted everyone had stepped back and given him space, as if it was his due.
'You all right, Beth?' She vaguely registered Mike's belated query.
'The lady is fine. I will take care of her,' the deep slightly accented voice responded curtly. But his gaze never left Beth's small figure, and, stooping slightly, he added, 'If that is all right with you, Beth. I may call you Beth?'
He could call her anything he liked, she thought stupidly, as long as he kept holding her hand and smiling down at her as if he had just discovered the crown jewels. 'Yes, yes, of course,' she murmured, enthralled by the wayward black curl that fell over his broad brow.
He squeezed her hand and slipped his other arm around her tiny waist. 'You look none too steady in those very dangerous shoes,' he said, justifying his familiarity as his silver gaze slid over her small face and lower, to her breasts, and on down to her feet, still encased in the ridiculously high-heeled shoes, and then back up to her face.
Beth was suddenly flushed with a totally different kind of heat. The warmth of his arm around her waist and the obvious admiration in his lazy gaze did weird things to her pulse-rate. What was happening to her? She had never reacted so instantly to a man in her life before. She had an overpowering urge to put her small hand on his broad chest, to run her fingers up the lapel of his immaculately tailored dove-grey suit, and to curl her fingers in the silky black curls that caressed the nape of his tanned neck. She lifted her hand, and gasped; she had almost done it. . .!
'I need a drink,' she blurted, and forced herself to step back. 'It's all right; I'm steady now,' she added, breaking free from his hold.
'You might be, but I don't think I will ever be again,' he husked, his silver eyes capturing hers. 'Don't move and I'll get you a drink.'
She couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to, her gaze following him as he turned and walked to the table, filled a fluted glass with amber liquid and turned back to offer it to her. She took it from him, the light brush of his fingers against hers sending a tremor up her arm that made her almost drop it. She took a hasty gulp of champagne, anything to hide her ridiculous reaction to him, but she had an uncanny feeling she would be unable to hide anything from this man, and yet she didn't even know his name.
'Who are you?' she asked, and was instantly horrified at her own bluntness.
'My friends call me Dex, my enemies, the bastard Giordanni. My mother christened me Dexter Giordanni. Dexter meaning, "on the right hand"—possibly to compensate for my being born, on the "left-hand side of the blanket." So take your pick.' He laughed at the look of shock on her lovely face.
'You're very blunt, Dex,' she said, stunned at his intimate revelation about his birth, but she could not help grinning back.
'So we are friends. Yes?'
'Yes.'
'In that case, can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?'
'Tomorrow night,' she repeated, completely bowled over by his charm and obvious desire to see her again.
'Unfortunately this evening I have to dine with the chairman and his wife.' He gestured with his hand to where the head of the firm stood talking to Mi
ke and a few others. Then, taking a card from his inside pocket, he said, 'Give me your address and phone number, and I will pick you up tomorrow night at seven-thirty. Okay?'
She hesitated, torn between the desire to say yes and her more cautious self, which reminded her that this man was a stranger who could be dangerous to her state of mind. He had already dented her ability to think straight simply by his presence. She looked at him with puzzled green eyes, and felt the tension simmer in the air between them.
He straightened up, squaring his wide shoulders. 'Unless, of course, your dancing partner has a prior claim to your time,' he added, in a voice that was suddenly hard.
'Mike?' she chuckled. 'You've got to be joking! He's my stepbrother. You don't really imagine I would make a fool of myself before a room full of strangers except with a member of the family? And, even so, I'm going to strangle the man when I get the chance.'
Dex's responding chuckle relieved the inexplicable tension between them. 'Good. So how about that address, please,' he pleaded huskily. 'I can see Brice heading this way.'
Beth looked around, and sure enough the chairman was walking towards them. 'All right.' In moments she had rattled off her address and telephone number.
Dex put the card back in his breast pocket just as the chairman arrived at his side.
