It was the dance that did it. It wasn’t the fact that Erin Giordano was a last-minute stand-in for a sick model; a tad surreal when she was only there to arrange displays of her designer cupcakes on raised podiums around the grand ballroom. It wasn’t the fact that she was poured into a stunning designer dress the minute a tentative okay left her lips. Or that after a somewhat frantic makeover, she had a million-dollar diamond hanging from her neck. Or that the next thing she knew, the billionaire who owned the diamond was her escort for the evening…though in fairness, he was a big part of it.
She had her eyes closed when she first heard Nathaniel Van Rothstein’s voice. It had been the first thing to drag her out of the whirlwind of activity around her, demanding she open her eyes and blink through a haze of hairspray. But it was worth the effort. It was one of those mythical moments when everything else faded into a blur of muted sounds and melting color around him.
Much taller than Erin’s five feet ten—which was deliciously sexy to a woman who was usually left feeling like an Amazon—he had ruffled brown hair and eyes the exact shade of melted dark chocolate. But beyond his initial question of whether she was ready, and an almost lazy examination of her from head to toe, he didn’t have much to say. At least not to her.
For the rest of the night he stayed glued to her side, sometimes placing a large hand against the inward curve of her back to guide her through the throng at the charity event. Occasionally they stopped so he could talk with people he knew. Keen interest in the famous Harlequin Diamond Erin was wearing forced them to smile frequently for photographs.
And then came the dance.
After what felt like hours, they turned away from the last group of people and faced the dance floor. A melancholy saxophone began playing, then the lights dimmed and mirrored globes on the ceiling created what looked like spiraling stardust around them.
Erin gazed upward and smiled, enthralled by the magical wonderland, and that was when she felt a shimmer of awareness wash over her. So she looked at the man who stood beside her. Really looked. And was mesmerized all over again.
He was studying her intently in return, what looked like curiosity in his darkened eyes. Then a large upturned palm was held in front of her in invitation. Such a simple gesture. One he backed up with a small inclination of his head toward the dance floor.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to slip her hand into his….
Drawing in a deep breath when a long arm circled her waist, Erin placed her free hand on the expensive material of his dark jacket just above his elbow. She looked up at him as his warm fingers closed around hers. And then they began to sway to the hauntingly seductive music, her body echoing the rhythm of his.
She should say something. Surely one of them should try and make idle conversation? But she was rendered speechless.
They moved with a fluidity that suggested they’d danced together hundreds of times. He studied her hair, her face, following the line of her neck to her shoulder. Then their gazes tangled again, and Erin could have sworn his eyes were smiling at her.
Lord, he was gorgeous. No wonder she couldn’t think straight.
Damping her lips, she silently pleaded, Say something…
Dense lashes lowered, he studied her mouth. Then he glanced sharply upward to search each of her eyes in turn while her heart skipped a beat with the instinctual realization that he wanted to kiss her. Erin had never kissed a stranger, let alone one who hadn’t made the effort to so much as talk about the weather.
So in a rare demonstration of willfulness, she lifted her chin. No.
The answering smile knocked the air out of her lungs. Suddenly she was warmed from the inside out, her heart was beating harder against her breastbone and—heaven help her—she was turned on in a way she’d never been turned on before.
Someone in the crowd jostled her, knocking her forward. The shock of her breasts crushing into the hard wall of his chest made her gasp and step back as if she’d been burned. But when she tried to step away he squeezed his fingers tighter and ran the pad of his thumb over the rise and fall of her knuckles. She looked up and found his head bowed to study their hands.
When he took a step forward, she lifted her palm and laid it hesitantly against his chest, directly above his heart. She didn’t know why, she just felt she had to touch him.
He looked up into her eyes once more. Dropped his gaze to her mouth. Then their eyes met again. Erin took a small step forward, her brows wavering a minuscule amount in question. What am I doing?
Lowering his head, the soul-shattering warmth in his smile answered, This.
Erin felt her lashes grow heavy. Their mouths were inches apart, she could feel his warm breath against her skin…
“It was the dance that did it,” she told her enthralled friends forty-eight hours later. “I would never have kissed him if it wasn’t for that dance.”
Clare leaned closer. “You can’t leave it there!”
“I Googled him yesterday…”
“And?”
“Let’s just say he’s no Prince Charming.”
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