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She’d just bought her second glass of champagne and was turning back to the dance floor to go and find someone she knew to chat to and dance with when someone jogged her arm and the entire glassful went over the arm of the man standing next to her, soaking his white tuxedo.
‘Oh, no! I’m so sorry,’ she said, horrified. ‘Please excuse me.’
‘It was an accident. It’s not a problem.’ He took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped up the spill.
The handkerchief wasn’t enough; she knew the champagne was going to leave a stain over his sleeve.
‘Please, send me the cleaning bill.’ She was about to grab a pen and pad from her handbag to scribble down her details for him when she realised: she didn’t have either. The dinky little bag she’d brought tonight was less than an eighth of the size of the bag she normally used—the one that Sorcha always teased her was big enough to carry the kitchen sink as well as everything else. In this one, Jane could just about cram her door key, her wallet and her mobile phone into, and even that was pushing it. She was about to pull out her phone and offer to text him her details when he smiled.
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Really. But if you want to make amends, you could dance with me.’
She blinked. What? The guy looked like James Bond. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that made her feel as if her temperature had just gone up six degrees. He was the kind of man that attracted third glances, let alone second. ‘Dance with you?’ she asked stupidly.
He shrugged. ‘It’s what people are supposed to do at a charity ball, isn’t it?’
‘I…’ Yes. But this man was a stranger. The epitome of a tall, dark, handsome stranger. ‘Well, if you’re sure. I’m J—’
‘No names,’ he cut in, smiling to take the sting from his words. ‘I rather like the idea of dancing with a gorgeous stranger. Cinderella.’
Gorgeous? Even Sorcha’s skill with make-up couldn’t make her look as stunning as her mother and her sister. Jane knew she was just ordinary. All the same, she smiled. ‘If I’m Cinderella, does that make you Prince Charming?’
‘Are you looking for a Prince Charming?’
‘No. I don’t need rescuing,’ she said. Though it wasn’t strictly true. Right now, she could really do with dancing with the best-looking man in the room. To take the sharpness of that article away. Honestly compelled her to add, ‘Besides, your toes might really regret that offer later. I have two left feet.’
‘I don’t. So dance with me anyway,’ he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
‘If you have bruised toes tomorrow, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘Somehow, I think my toes will be just fine.’
And then Jane discovered that Prince Charming could dance. Really dance. Moving round the floor with him was like floating. Effortless. He was guiding her, so her footwork couldn’t possibly go wrong. She’d never, ever danced like this before, and it was a revelation. This was what it was like not to be clumsy.
When the music changed to a slower number, he didn’t let her go. It felt completely natural to move closer. To dance cheek to cheek with him.
His skin was soft against hers, with no hint of stubble—clearly he’d shaved just before coming out tonight—and she could smell the citrus tang of his aftershave. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the moment. Right now she really could imagine herself as Cinderella, dancing with her Prince Charming as he spun her round the floor.
And then she felt him move slightly. His lips brushed against the corner of her mouth.
If she pulled away, she knew he’d stop. All her instincts told her that her gorgeous stranger was a gentleman.
But what if she moved closer? Would he kiss her properly?
Even the idea of it made her pulse rate speed up and her breathing become shallower.
And then she did it. Moved just a little bit closer.
His arms tightened round hers, and his mouth brushed against hers. Sweet, tempting, promising: and it sent a shiver all the way through her. It had been way too long since she’d been kissed; she couldn’t help responding, tipping her head back just the tiniest bit to give him better access to her mouth.
She kept her eyes closed, concentrating purely on the touch of his lips against hers. The way it made her skin feel super-sensitised; the way he coaxed her into responding, kissing him back. Tiny, sweet, nibbling kisses, almost like a dance in itself, leading each other further and further on.
She couldn’t help opening her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. And either that glass of champagne had seriously gone to her head, or Prince-Charming-meets-James-Bond was the most amazing kisser she’d ever met, because he made her feel as if she were floating. As if there was nobody else in the room, just the two of them and the music.
He kissed her through the rest of the song. And maybe the next, too, because when he broke the kiss she realised that it was a fast dance, and they were swaying together, locked in each other’s arms as if it were still a slow dance, even though the band was playing something uptempo.
He blinked then, as if he were just as shocked.
‘Wow. It’s been a long time since someone’s had that effect on me, Cinders,’ he said softly.
‘You’re telling me.’ She couldn’t remember reacting like this to anyone, ever. Even to the man she’d once planned to marry.
He leaned forward and stole a kiss. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Leave a ballroom where she knew most of the people there, to go to some unspecified place with a complete stranger she’d only just met and whose name she didn’t even know? She’d have to be crazy.
Or very, very angry and hurt. Enough to think that going off with the most gorgeous-looking man she’d ever seen—a man who’d kissed her to the point where she’d forgotten where she was—would make her feel much, much better.
‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked.
‘I have a room here,’ he said. ‘So I was thinking room service. More champagne. Freshly squeezed orange juice. And a toasted cheese sandwich.’
If he’d said caviar or lobster, she would’ve said no. But the homeliness of a toasted cheese sandwich…Now that was seriously tempting. ‘Yes. On condition.’
‘Condition?’
‘No names. No questions.’
His eyes widened. ‘Just one night? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes.’ Tomorrow morning she’d be back to being Plain Jane, Super-Brain. Well, not quite, because she was off duty and she’d actually be Plain Jane who needed to catch up with cleaning her flat. But he’d just made her feel beautiful. Cherished. And she wasn’t quite ready to let that feeling go. ‘One night.’
‘Allow me one question. You’re not involved with anyone?’
That was an easy one to answer. ‘No.’ Though she appreciated the fact that he’d asked, because she needed to know the same thing. The fact that he’d asked first made it easy for her. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’ He caught her lower lip briefly between his. ‘Then let’s go.’
She walked with him into the hotel reception; while he collected his key, she texted Sorcha. Bit of a headache, having an early night. Enjoy the rest of the ball, J xx
It wasn’t that far from the truth. She was having an early night. Just…not at home. And the headache excuse was enough to make sure that Sorcha didn’t ring the flat to see how she was and worry when there was no answer.
‘Everything all right?’ Prince Charming asked.
‘Fine.’ She smiled back at him. ‘Just texting my best friend to say I’m leaving, so she doesn’t worry that I’ve disappeared.’
‘Which means you’re all mine. Good.’
CHAPTER TWO
ED USHERED his Cinderella over to the lifts. Her face was incredibly expressive; as the doors closed behind them, he could see that she was starting to have second thoughts. And third.
She was definitely the responsible, thoughtful type, because she’d made sure that her best friend wasn’t worrying about her rather than disappearing without a word. And she was clearly wondering whether she was doing the right thing now.
He took her hand, pressed a reassuring kiss into her palm and curled her fingers over the imprint of his lips. ‘Stop worrying,’ he said softly. ‘You can say no and it won’t be a problem. Just come and have a drink with me.’
‘I don’t normally do this sort of thing,’ she muttered, and more colour flooded into her face.
‘Me, neither,’ he said. ‘How shockingly bold of us.’
To his relief, she responded to the teasing note in his voice and smiled back. ‘I guess so.’ And she made no protest when he unlocked his room and gestured for her to go inside.
‘Take a seat,’ he said. Though he wasn’t surprised that she pulled the chair out from under the dressing table rather than sitting on the bed. ‘Shall I order some champagne?’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I think I’ve already had enough. So unless you’re planning to drink the whole bottle yourself…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Probably not.’
‘You spilled most of your glass over me,’ he pointed out.
She winced. ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t intending to make you grovel, just pointing out that you haven’t had a drink tonight.’
‘Actually, I have.’ She bit her lip. ‘This is going to sound terrible, but I drank one glass straight down before the one I spilled over you.’
Now that did surprise him. She’d looked slightly vulnerable when she’d first met him, but he’d assumed that was simply embarrassment at spilling her champagne over him. ‘Why? Didn’t you want to come to the party?’
‘No, it’s not that. The hospital ball’s always fun.’ She blew out a breath. ‘We said no questions, remember.’
He shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’ Though he still wondered. Why would a woman with such beautiful eyes and such a perfect mouth need to bolster her courage with champagne?
‘Why do you have a room here?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘And who was it who just reminded me, “no questions”?’
‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m not much good at this. I never go off with complete strangers whose name I don’t even know.’
Neither did he. But then again, he hadn’t responded so powerfully to someone for a long time; if he was honest, he hadn’t felt like that about his wife. And he’d avoided dating since his marriage had disintegrated.
His sisters were all nagging him to have some fun and start dating again. And the way Cinderella had kissed him back on the dance floor had really stirred his blood. He had the feeling that this was something they both needed. Except she was clearly worried about him being a stranger. ‘That’s an easy one to sort. My name’s—’ he began.
‘No,’ she cut in. ‘We’re at a charity ball for the hospital. So the chances are, if you were a complete snake, you wouldn’t be here. Or else someone would’ve warned me about you beforehand and I’d know to avoid you.’
He blinked. ‘The grapevine’s that fast?’
‘Yup.’
‘So you work at the hospital,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘No questions,’ she reminded him.
He smiled. ‘It wasn’t a question. It was a logical deduction. This is a charity ball for the hospital, and you clearly know people, plus you’ve been to the ball before and you know how fast the grapevine works. QED.’
‘And you had an expensive education.’ She smiled at his raised eyebrow. ‘Again a logical deduction. Most people don’t use Latin abbreviations in everyday speech.’
‘So the fact you recognise it says the same about you,’ he parried.
‘Not necessarily. I might be a crossword addict.’
‘I like fencing with you,’ he said. ‘Almost as much as I like dancing with you.’ His gaze held hers. ‘And almost as much as I like kissing you.’
Colour bloomed in her face, but this time it wasn’t shyness. The way her lips parted slightly and her pupils grew larger told him that she liked remembering the way they’d kissed, too.
He took her hand; this time, instead of kissing her palm, he kissed her wrist right where her pulse was beating madly. The longer his mouth lingered, the more her pulse sped up. Her skin was so soft. And she smelled gorgeous—some floral scent he couldn’t quite place, mixed with something else. Soft and sweet and gentle. Irresistible.
‘You do things to me, Cinders,’ he said softly. ‘But I’m not going to push you. Do you mind if I…?’ He ran his finger round the collar of his shirt and grimaced.
‘Slip into something more comfortable?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He laughed. ‘Hardly. I just want to feel a bit less—well—formal.’
‘Sure.’
‘Thank you.’ He stood up and removed his jacket, hanging it in the wardrobe. Then he undid his bow tie and the top button of his shirt and let the tie hang loose, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up.
She sucked in a breath.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Forget Prince Charming. You’re all James Bond,’ she said.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a good thing?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Her voice was husky. ‘My best friend and I saw the last film three times at the cinema.’
‘Well, just for the record, I hate martinis.’
She smiled. ‘So do I.’
‘And I don’t have a licence to kill.’
She spread her hands. ‘The only licence I have is a driving licence.’
He laughed. ‘Snap. I like you, Cinderella.’ His voice deepened, softened. ‘Come here.’ It was an invitation, not an order. She paused, clearly weighing it up, then nodded, stood up and crossed the short distance between them.
He cupped her face with both hands. ‘A perfect heart shape,’ he said softly. ‘And right now I really, really want to kiss you. May I?’
‘Yes.’
Ed smiled and lowered his mouth to hers. Teasing, enticing, more of those little nibbling kisses that had her twining her fingers through his hair and opening her mouth so he could deepen the kiss.
