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“You aren’t.” His voice was filled with frustration, rebellion and a hint of humor.
“Oh.” She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
“Now that all the bachelors have held you in their arms, I decided one dance between the ‘host with the most’ and the ‘star of the show’ wouldn’t hurt.”
She liked his reasoning. She liked him. Although liked seemed such a mild word for the sensations churning inside her at his closeness. “I’m glad you did.”
His spicy masculine scent tickled her senses, dulled the reasons why she should resist this man. “You smell so good. Not overpowering or so strong it chokes a woman.” Not like Bachelor #9. Ugh.
He chuckled and brushed his face against
her hair. “You smell like flowers.”
“I should. Gregory sprayed enough stuff on me I probably have a cloud of fumes hovering around me. I’ve never been so powdered and perfumed in my life.”
“Gregory’s the best.”
“Apparently. I couldn’t believe it was me when I looked in the mirror.”
“Why not?” His feet slowed, his hand gently pressed into the small of her back, his gaze searched hers.
“Because I looked…” she paused searching for the right word and trying not to read anything into the way his eyes seemed to delve right into her soul or the fact his body was noticeably hard.
“Beautiful?”
“Do you think so?” Her breath caught. Was that what he saw when he looked at her? When he looked beyond the physical?
The sane, methodical cop in her poked her conscious with a reminder that she was a phony. Becoming emotionally involved with Rob Lancaster could only lead to trouble. Nevertheless, the woman in her craved what shimmered in his eyes.
He swallowed, his eyes glittering with the truth. He wanted her. “You know I do, but it would be better if I didn’t.”
She could barely hear his low words, but they touched her more than if someone else had screamed her praises over the intercom system at a Laker’s game.
“Rob.” She didn’t say more. She couldn’t. Not when all the cameras focused on her. Not when everything said was recorded by the tiny microphone hidden between her breasts. They both knew it was there, although she wondered what Rob would say if technology didn’t capture every word, every look, every touch. Would he kiss her? She wanted his mouth on hers.
Knowing she couldn’t act on the lust coursing through her, she rested her head against his chest for the remainder of the dance, enjoying the beat of his heart against her cheek. The steady, rapid rhythm pounded the message he wasn’t immune to her body pressed against his, not by a long shot.
The world faded, and she lost herself in his embrace, his scent, his warmth. Her own heart raced, as did her mind. She wanted Rob Lancaster. Not just a little, but like a crackhead lusted after his next fix. She’d never comprehended how a person could risk their freedom for a temporary pleasure--Rob’s arms provided a crash course in understanding.
Forbidden, lethal, and something she had to resist, Rob embodied the most potent ingredients of any addiction.
When the song ended, she reluctantly lifted her head. “Thank you for the dance.”
“It was my pleasure, Princess.” He stared into her eyes, longings of his own evident. But just as visible was the determination to ignore his attraction to her. She wouldn’t ever know how high Rob could bring her. He’d never give either of them the opportunity to find out. Which was a good thing since she longed to throw caution to the wind and experience all this man could share.
She turned away before moisture gathered. Must be something about Europe making her all glossy eyed. Regardless, she couldn’t ruin her make-up. Gregory would kill her.
“May I have the honor of another dance?” a grinning hunk asked. She smiled at Bachelor #6, hoping her disappointment at leaving Rob’s arms wasn’t too apparent. At least, her new dance partner wasn’t 4, 7, 8, or 9.
“I’d be honored.” Which was much better than saying, “Forgive me, Your Honor. It was a case of temporary insanity,” like she’d be doing if she got caught.
Which was exactly what was going to happen if she didn’t stay away from Rob Lancaster.
Chapter Five
Reluctantly resigned to his fate of craving a woman he couldn’t have, Rob watched as Jane slipped into the other man’s arms and swayed to the music.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” JP growled, joining him under the pretense of handing him a drink. A drink Rob didn’t want as, minutes after Jane’s descent down the stairs, he’d downed his self-imposed limit of two.
