LITMIR.BIZ

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exchange he found himself shaking his head, as if in acknowledgement of her proposition. ‘I thought you looked lonely,’ she added, her lips parting to display white, white teeth. And, although he had heard that line half a dozen times already that evening, from her it actually sounded sincere.

      ‘Bored,’ he amended drily, and then, remembering his manners, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude.’

      She smiled, and Alex was struck again by the flawless delicacy of her beauty. She was very fair, of course. Much different from the women of his family. And with pale skin, and deep blue eyes, she could not have displayed a greater contrast to his own swarthy appearance.

      But, as he acknowledged the narrow cheekbones, and straight, unblemished nose, the wide, sensual mouth, and small but determined chin, Alex couldn’t help wondering what she was doing with him. With long lashes, several shades darker than her silvery cap of hair, and a slim, yet not unshapely figure, she could have approached any man in the room, and not been repulsed. In fact, he found her comparatively modest style of clothing unexpectedly sexy, among so much exposed flesh. And, judging by the glances she was getting, he wasn’t the only man to think so.

      Which brought him back to his original query as to why she should have made a bee-line for him. It wasn’t as if he had encouraged her. Dammit, he hadn’t even looked at her, until she spoke to him. And it couldn’t be his appearance. In worn jeans and a leather jacket, he looked little different from a dozen other males in the room, and decidedly older.

      Unless …

      ‘I must admit I don’t like parties much either,’ she said ruefully, interrupting his train of thought. She indicated the glass she was holding and which contained an identical concoction to his own, and grimaced. ‘What do you think this is? Moonshine?’

      Alex found his lips twitching. ‘I wish it were,’ he replied, pulling a similar face. ‘Cat’s you-know-what is my guess. I’d suggest you treat it cautiously.’

      ‘Oh, I will.’

      Her laughter was infectious, and several pairs of eyes turned in their direction. Including his nephew’s, Alex noticed. He hoped Nick didn’t think he had orchestrated this encounter.

      ‘What’s your name?’

      Her question was not unexpected, and Alex dragged his eyes away from her smiling mouth, and endeavoured to give it serious consideration. But he was unwillingly aware of a certain disappointment. If she knew who he was, all his questions would be answered.

      ‘I—Alex,’ he said, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Alex—Th—Thorpe.’

      ‘Nice name.’ Her response was guileless, as far as he could tell, and there had been no glimmer of suspicion in those wide indigo eyes. ‘I’m Elizabeth Ryan.’ She held out her hand. ‘How do you do?’

      Alex took her hand in his much larger one, noticing the contrast between her flesh and his. And he was irritably aware of his own reaction to the contact. Her skin was as smooth and soft as silk, and he wanted to hold on.

      Amazingly enough, she seemed to feel the same. Even though he held her hand far longer than was necessary she made no move to pull away. On the contrary, she looked up at him with a curiously satisfied look in her disturbing eyes, and Alex had the distinct impression that she was well aware of his response.

      In the event, he broke the contact, thrusting his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, as if to remove it as far as possible from danger. Danger? He took a less than cautious swig of the punch in his glass, and swallowed the oath that sprang unguarded to his lips. God, this stuff must be stronger than he thought, he chided himself harshly. It was years since he had felt so—aroused.

      ‘So who do you know?’ she asked, sipping her own drink, and then pulling a face, and Alex frowned.

      ‘I beg your—–?’

      ‘Nick or Christina,’ she prompted, moving out of the way of a couple, who were performing a rather heavy-footed version of the lambada. ‘I work with Chris, and I don’t believe she’s mentioned you before.’

      ‘No.’ Alex endeavoured to soften his stiff features. ‘No, I—know Nick. Um—from way back.’

      ‘I see.’ She nodded, glancing round at the thickening crowd that was filling the living-room of the apartment. ‘I must admit, I didn’t realise Chris had asked so many people. I wonder if they all had an invitation?’ Her lips parted, giving him another tantalising glimpse of her tongue. ‘Probably not. But who’s going to ask if they’re gatecrashers?’

      ‘Well, not me,’ remarked Alex drily, and she laughed.

      ‘Me, neither,’ she agreed, and as she moved back again her hip brushed the taut muscles of his thigh.

      He could smell her now. The faintly musky fragrance she was wearing filled his senses, and combined with the indefinable femininity of her body. Her hair smelt deliciously of lemon, and where it turned into her nape it was inclined to curl. It was short hair, straight, but expertly cut. It framed her face quite delightfully, and she had a habit of pushing her fingers through it. Alex thought he would like to push his fingers through it too, before he could stifle the impulse. For even though it clung silkily to her fingers it always returned to its original shape.

      He was crazy, he told himself severely. It was long past the time when he had intended to get out of here, and he ought to make a move. Before her—Elizabeth’s—arrival, he had been itching to make his excuses and leave. Yet now he was reluctant to do so.

      He could imagine what his father would say if he knew why Alex was delaying his departure. The old man had asked him to come here to keep an eye on Nick, for God’s sake. His nephew was known to be reckless, and too impressionable for his own good. And, although the family were prepared to tolerate his relationship with Christina Lennox, no one was in any doubt that he would eventually marry the girl his grandfather had chosen for him.

      It didn’t matter that Alex thought his father had rather too much to say where his grandsons were concerned. It was the way things were done in his family, but—please God!—he’d never get like that. Yet with his brother too ineffectual to stand against the old man’s wishes, it was usually left to Alex to play devil’s advocate. It was not a role that lay comfortably on his shoulders, and as far as Tony was concerned he played it far too well. But that was why he was here tonight: to provide a stabilising influence. Not find himself attracted to a woman who was not only unsuitable, but whom he didn’t even know.

      ‘Have you eaten?’

      The words were out before he could prevent them, and the young woman looked up at him with warm enquiring eyes. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, actually, I haven’t. But I expect there’s some food around here somewhere. I think Chris said something about a buffet.’

      It was his let-out, but he didn’t take it. ‘I meant, would you like to get out of here, and find some place where we could have supper?’ he explained. He indicated the smoke-laden atmosphere. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could stand some fresh air.’

      ‘Oh.’ Elizabeth appeared to give his invitation some thought. ‘Well—I’m not sure—–’

      ‘I’m quite respectable,’ he offered, realising he had never done anything so impulsive in his life. ‘And I do mean supper. It’s not an unsubtle excuse to get you into bed.’

      She smiled. ‘Isn’t it?’ And he felt the incredible awareness of heat invading his neck. ‘Oh, well, I’ll have to make do with supper, then, won’t I? Give me a minute, and I’ll go and tell Chris what’s going on.’

      His nephew was not unnaturally shocked to hear why he was leaving. ‘You’re taking a strange woman to supper!’ he exclaimed, staring at Alex as if he’d suddenly grown two heads. ‘So—who is she? Tell me. Do I know her? Good God, I can’t believe you’re doing this!’

      ‘Her name is Elizabeth Ryan, and she’s a friend of Christina’s,’

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