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Sonya gave Isobella a brief dismissive once-over. ‘Sonya Nikolaidis. Do you mind if I butt in? I knew Alex back when he was surgeon.’
Isobella took the proffered hand and shook it distractedly as she madly tried to process the information about Alex being a surgeon. The other woman was patently uninterested in Isobella’s preoccupied state, quickly turning her full attention back to Alex, and Isobella figured it wouldn’t have mattered a jot if she had objected to the interruption. Something told her Sonya Nikolaidis always got her man.
Even though Alex was grim-mouthed, his face a picture of foreboding, they looked stunning together. Their Greek backgrounds were more obvious together than separately. Just how well had Sonya Nikolaidis known Alex? Intimately, by the look of her body language. Her body seemed perfectly at ease in Alex’s personal space, leaning into him, and her gestures were indicative of a carnal familiarity.
Alex kept himself rigid, wanting nothing more than to tell her to get the hell away from him, but he had no doubt that Sonya could still cause a scene. And he had absolutely no intention of betraying how very much her desertion still rankled.
‘What are you doing here, Sonya?’ He injected a deliberate note of boredom into his enquiry. Unfortunately for him, Sonya’s ego had always been able to withstand the impact of a truck.
‘I’ve been a pharmaceutical rep for years. I’m in management now. I work for MediCorp.’
But of course.Alex clenched his fists. Only the largest supporter of Australian-based research and drug development in the land. When they did find the magic formula to help box jellyfish victims with their scarring he’d need MediCorp’s backing to produce it. ‘Congratulations.’
‘I hear you’re big in the jellyfish biz?’
Alex gave her a brisk nod. Nothing like reducing valuable scientific research to a three-word catchphrase. What had he ever seen in her? Even now her ambition was palpable.
‘Dance with me, Alex.’
Alex looked down into Sonya’s expertly made-up face. Her lips were glistening a deep red, her eyes ringed with dark kohl and fringed with heavily enhanced lashes. Her gall was amazing. Did she seriously think that time had reduced the wounds she’d inflicted? That he’d jump at her request? ‘Actually, I’d just asked Isobella. If you’ll excuse us?’
Isobella, who had been watching their exchange in uncomfortable silence, almost choked on her sip of champagne. Alex took the glass from her suddenly nerveless fingers, placed it on a passing waiter’s tray and took her hand, tugging her towards the dance floor.
‘Alex,’ she whispered, scurrying to keep up with his determined stride so she wouldn’t fall flat on her face, ‘what the hell are you doing? I didn’t come here to dance.’
He continued leading her doggedly towards the area where the string quartet were playing and some people were already dancing.
‘I’m not dancing with you,’ she protested again in a vicious whisper as they reached their destination.
Alex smiled down at her. ‘Oh, yes, you are,’ he said, swinging her around and pulling her towards him.
Isobella automatically grabbed for his shoulder to steady herself, and before she knew it he had his arm around her waist and their hands were linked. ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’ started up, and he pulled her closer.
Unlike Sonya, Isobella was not comfortable in Alex’s personal space, and she held herself rigidly as far away from him as she could in the circle of his arms.
‘Relax, I’m not going to bite,’ he said irritably.
Even grumpy, his voice caused an eruption of goosebumps, as if he had indeed nuzzled her neck and taken a bite. Isobella glanced at his bleak mask to snap her out of the dangerous fantasy.Bad move. His dark mood just enhanced his attractiveness.
She looked down, her gaze at his throat, his scars tempting her too in their own bizarre way. Ever since she’d touched them earlier on the plane they’d grown in fascination tenfold. She wished this was a real dance. A dance between lovers. She could have nestled her head on his shoulder and nuzzled his neck, caressing the scars with her lips.
She looked away impatiently, focusing squarely on his shoulder and the dark fabric of his suit. She was excruciatingly aware of the intimacy of the music, of their closeness, of the heat coming off his body and the wild honey smell of his aftershave seducing her at every turn around the floor. She sucked in a steadying breath and was dismayed by its raggedness.
She had to say something. This silence while their bodies swayed inappropriately, just shy of touching, was crazy. ‘So who’s Sonya?’
