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“The marriage ceremonies are conducted in the salons off the main ballroom. We offer a variety of services, and if you’ve any questions or problems during your stay, you’ll find footmen stationed in all the rooms. They’re wearing gold-and-white uniforms, so you can’t miss them.” Shayne’s smile came with a natural generosity Hanna found irresistible. “Be sure to have a wonderful evening. And good luck finding the perfect partner.”
Perfect? Hanna suppressed a sigh. Not likely. She’d be happy if she could find someone who found her interesting for herself, instead of who she was and what she could do for him. “Thank you, Shayne. I’ll try.”
Unable to help herself, Hanna glanced once more in the direction of her mystery man. To her disappointment, he’d gone. The pang his disappearance stirred caught her by surprise. It also worried her. Emotions had no part in what would transpire this evening. That would be a mistake. Let this particular man take his irresistible smile elsewhere. The partner she chose would attract her intellectually, not sexually. His emotions and thoughts would be as precise and controlled as possible.
She glanced at her watch and frowned. It was eight-thirty already. She’d wasted a lot of time mooning over a man totally wrong for her purposes. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d lose the opportunity to find the best possible man. She needed every minute of the next few hours to make sure the man she selected met her list of requirements.
Her mood took an upward swing. Perhaps it wouldn’t prove as difficult as she’d anticipated. After all, he’d be a companion, not a lover, a man of academic rather than emotional inclination. That was what she wanted, right? By utilizing a bit of logic and a standard process of elimination, it would be a snap.
She gave an emphatic nod that loosened a few more disobedient curls. One intellectual man, heavy on brainpower and light on love, coming up.
MatteoSalvatore stood on a balcony high above the ballroom, his shoulder propped against a snow-white pillar. He felt as though he hung above a fairyland, white twinkling lights and greenery adding to the otherworldly impression. For a while, the swirl of color and movement dazzled the eye.
Eventually, he found his gaze returning again and again to a petite redhead dressed in ivory, the woman who’d caught his eye in the reception line.
Her hair was a deep auburn, the rich strands several shades paler around her face, like a perfect sunset reflecting on a pure sea of snow. She’d confined the heavy curls in some sort of golden net, as though in an attempt to tame their exuberance. To his amusement, the little ringlets escaped her mastery and danced around her huge feathered mask.
More feathers decorated her costume, accenting an enchanting confection of lace and silk that made him think she’d come as a swan princess. Except for the minuscule straps holding her dress together, her shoulders remained bare and glittered with gold dust.
Her dress caught the light, as well, sequins or tiny glass diamonds splintering into rainbows with her every movement. Not that she moved often. Her stillness in the center of a storm of activity had been part of what attracted his attention. The few times her body escaped the tight control she exerted, she became a miniature whirlwind of physical expression.
She had an appealing elegance, her body slender and shapely with legs that were beyond breathtaking. If circumstances had been different, he’d have swept down, removed her from her circle of admirers, and taken her off somewhere private in order to follow up on those glances they’d exchanged in the reception line.
Ifcircumstances had been different.
A soft rustle of skirts sounded behind him and he caught a distinctive whiff of perfume. “Hello, Shayne,” he said without turning around.
“Clever man,” she teased. “Or is it that you can sense any time a woman’s around?”
He reluctantly switched his attention from the redhead. “What can I say?” he confessed with a shrug. “It’s a Salvatore trail.”
“And we poor women don’t stand a chance?”
He fought to suppress a grin. “Consider yourself warned.”
“Why aren’t you downstairs enjoying the festivities?”
“I’m content to watch from here. Besides, I’m not looking for a wife.” He gave Rafe’s sister his full regard, as captivated by her beauty tonight as he’d been at their first meeting. She wore her honey-blond hair in a formal twist at the nape of her neck, a constrained style that belied the passion inherent in her vivid dark eyes. “Nor am I dressed appropriately.”
“That’s not a problem. I have something you can use.” She drew her hands from behind her back, dangling a sheathed sword and belt in front of him. “I brought this for you in case you wanted to play.”
He tilted his head to one side and regarded her with amused suspicion. “Were you the one who sent the ticket?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And if I was?”
“Are you trying to tempt me?”
“Yes.” She smiled, enhancing her natural allure. Not that she appeared aware of it.
Shayne seemed uniquely oblivious to her own attraction. He’d have done something to change that except he wasn’t in the market for either a lover or a bride, despite how he’d teased his brothers. With Shayne, he didn’t doubt, it would have to be the latter. She struck him as an all-or-nothing type of woman.
Added to that minor inconvenience, Rafe had put out clear signals. His little sister was off-limits, and Matteo had too much respect for Rafe to take advantage of his hospitality.
Of course, one more thing stopped him dead in his tracks. He didn’t feel so much as a spark of romantic interest. Protective. Fondness. Appreciation. Even affection. But it fell within the “sisterly” spectrum of affection.
“I appreciate the thought.” Matteo gestured toward the sword. “But it wouldn’t be fair to play since I have no intention of paying the ultimate price. The women attending the Cinderella Ball want marriage.”
“True.” She regarded him curiously. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want it, too, if you found the right woman downstairs?”
