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‘I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t respect the institution. I don’t accept the necessity. Frankly, there couldn’t be a worse choice for best man than me. And so I politely declined.’
‘But he did ask you?’
The man’s dark head dipped forward. ‘And with no real expectation of success. Luca knows how I feel about things.’
Heat was a torrent in her veins. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘I didn’t.’
She poked out her tongue. ‘You’re very literal as well.’
His grin was slow to spread and delightful to behold. Sparks ignited in her bloodstream. Uh oh. That was probably not a good thing.
‘Are you asking my name, bonita?’
‘I suppose I was,’ she responded archly.
‘Alejandro.’
The way he pronounced it sent a shiver down her spine, like stepping from the shadows and into sunshine on a cool autumnal afternoon. She stayed right where she was, letting the effect of the word wash over her, the guttural way he’d spoken the middle syllable an aphrodisiac she couldn’t ignore.
Aphrodisiac?
Since when?
Aphrodisiacs weren’t exactly arrows in Sienna’s quiver. It wasn’t as if she went around talking to handsome men every night of the week, nor was she remotely familiar with the experiences of what one man’s full attention could do to her body. It was as if she were being gradually set alight, blood cell by blood cell, until she could hardly think straight.
‘And you are?’
She blinked, blankly. ‘I’m...what do you mean?’
Now it was his turn to laugh, a short, hoarse sound that spelled disaster for her already weakened grip on control—and, she feared, reality. Because why in the world would a man like this be talking to her? And even though he was talking, there was no way he was feeling the deluge of fascination and desire that was running rampant through her.
‘Your name,’ he prompted silkily, holding out his hand to shake. ‘What is it?’
‘Oh. I’m Sienna,’ she mumbled, colour rising in her cheeks. How she hated that! When Olivia blushed, she looked beautiful and coquettish, like some kind of ethereal fairy creature in need of protection. Whereas, when Sienna blushed, with her red hair and freckles, she was more like an homage to a Titian palette after a particularly fruitful afternoon, all blotchy and messed.
‘Sienna.’ He repeated her name, slowly and tinged with his accent—Spanish?—so a thousand fireworks burst in her belly. His hand moved closer and, of its own volition, hers extended slowly, curiously, as though the simple act of touching hand to hand heralded some kind of unavoidable disaster.
Little could she know.
‘Would you like to dance?’
‘Dance?’ she repeated, staring at the makeshift dance floor—a terrace in Rome strung with fairy lights and surrounded by potted plants filled with night-flowering jasmine that created a heavenly fragrance. A sinking feeling dropped through her stomach. ‘Dancing’ implied grace and coordination, two things Sienna generally felt she lacked. And yet, it also meant closeness. Touching. A reason to run her hands over this man’s muscular torso, to feel—
Oh, for heaven’s sake. He’s not asking you to take him to bed.
And what would she say if he did? Disastrously, more heat bloomed in her cheeks, so she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to blot him and the whole world out.
‘It is not rocket science,’ he said, close enough for the words to brush her ear. ‘I can show you.’
He knew. He knew she had no experience. He knew she was nervous. Yeah, well, of course he did! It wasn’t as if she could be mistaken for a suave, sophisticated socialite, the kind of woman for whom events like this were run of the mill.
Just be yourself.
Olivia’s earlier advice ran through her, but instead of giving her comfort, it brought a smile to Sienna’s face. Being herself would have meant wearing jeans and an oversized sweater, and her mutt, Starbuck, firmly planted by her side. She turned to face him, then wished she hadn’t when she was assaulted anew by his devastating good looks.
‘I don’t really dance,’ she explained, but despite the demurral her eyes ravaged his face then dropped lower, to the chest she was aching to feel, to understand if it was quite so firm as she imagined.
