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“No, but he’s a blundering idiot. He interfered in a job.”
Ronsard laughed, his handsome face lit with real amusement “Monsieur Temple, I think it will be a pleasure doing business with you. We’ll talk more, but I’ve been away from my guests too long, and I must get back to them. Come, I’ll introduce you around.”
“Introduce me as Mr. Smith.”
“Smith,” Ronsard repeated. He still looked amused. “That’s my secretary’s last name as well.”
“Maybe we’re related.”
They drew more than one interested gaze when they left the anteroom. John walked with his host across the huge foyer and into a glittering ballroom. They stopped at the top of three shallow steps, looking out over the crowd. Enormous crystal chandeliers hung overhead, glittering like diamonds, and a wall of French glass doors had been opened to the night. People moved around the room, out to the patio, back in, in a constant motion that reminded him of a hive.
He looked casually around, not letting his gaze rest on anyone in particular, but he spotted Niema almost immediately. An industrialist approached Ronsard and made polite chitchat for a moment, then waited expectantly for an introduction. John had met the man before, but he’d been using a different name at the time, and with his appearance altered; his hair had been gray and he had worn brown contacts. The industrialist thought he was shaking hands with a total stranger.
A voluptuous redhead, her breasts all but bared in a skintight emerald green gown, was the next to attach herself to Ronsard’s arm and angle for an introduction. Ronsard, obviously amused, obliged. John became his most impassive, not responding to any of the woman’s flirtatious remarks. For all her obviousness, she was no fool; after a few minutes she switched her flirtatiousness to Ronsard, who smiled and flattered her, all the while with that look of amusement still in his eyes.
After the woman left, they were briefly alone. John let his gaze sweep the ballroom once again, and he went still.
Ronsard noticed immediately, of course. “Do you see someone you know?” he asked, becoming subtly more alert as he looked around.
“No.” The word sounded as if it were being dragged out of John’s throat. “Someone I’m going to know. That woman—who is she?”
“Who?”
“Dark hair, blue gown. Wearing pearls. She’s talking to the tall blonde woman.”
Ronsard’s search narrowed on Niema. His face hardened as he realized she was the woman John had noticed. “She’s with me,” he said in succinct warning.
John spared his host only a glance before once more focusing on her. He let himself greedily drink her in, admiring the way the soft light gleamed on her bare shoulders. “Are you going to marry her?” he asked almost absently.
Ronsard gave a short, hard laugh. “No, of course not.”
“I am.”
The soft words lay between them like stones. Anger darkened Ronsard’s eyes. “She’s a friend, one I’ve come to cherish. She isn’t for the likes of us.”
“Perhaps not for you. If you had some claim on her, I’d back off, but you’ve admitted you don’t. She’s free—but not for long.”
Ronsard was a consummate businessman. He was also astute enough to realize the man called Temple wasn’t someone who could be intimidated. He took a deep breath, reaching for control. “I don’t brawl over women,” he said. “But neither will I allow you to force yourself on her. I say this because she . . . isn’t receptive. She is a widow, and still very much in love with her dead husband. Even if she wasn’t, she is one of the few principled people of my acquaintance. She frowns on people such as you and I.”
“She turned you down,” John stated.
“Flat.” For a moment humor quirked Ronsard’s mouth. “I like her. I won’t have her hurt.”
“Neither will I.”
Into the silence that fell between them Ronsard said, “You’ve astonished me. I wouldn’t have expected you to become enamored of any woman, especially at first sight. It seems out of character.”
“It is.” John drew a deep breath and let all the pent-up hunger of the past five years burn in his eyes. “It is,” he repeated. “Introduce me.”
“I think I will,” Ronsard mused. “This should be amusing.”
Niema saw the two tall, broad-shouldered men cutting their way through the crowd. Ronsard looked as dashing and debonair as usual, his long dark hair free on his shoulders, but it was the predator beside him who took her breath. John looked severe, dangerous, somehow different. His blue gaze was focused on her like a laser.
Startled, she actually took a step back, her hand lifting to the pearls around her neck.
She hadn’t seen him in over a week. She wasn’t prepared for the sudden impact of sensation, like a punch in the stomach. All the times before when she had seen him he had muted the dangerous power of his personality, she realized, because the full strength of it was blasting at her now.
His gaze swept down her and she felt as if he had stripped her naked, as if he were about to eat her alive. She tried to look away from him, tried to compos
