Billionaire’s Bounty(2)

Though one thing was certain: She wasn’t sure how successful she’d be at keeping him away from Miranda Quinn.

***

Miranda wasn’t even sure why she was here. She hated these sorts of “do’s”. After her family’s near-ruin, she hadn’t been much of a social butterfly. But her brother had insisted she showed face at this fundraising gala, for the same reason she had wished to avoid it: to show that the Quinn family was still alive and kicking. Ever since her father had lost his beloved company a year ago, he’d withdrawn on a much-needed vacation to South America, and now her brother and her had been left to pick up the pieces. It had been an uncomfortable situation to live down, but here she was, being social – and getting her feet smashed in the process.

She tried not to grimace one more time as her dance partner stepped on her toes – again. She hoped she wouldn’t be crippled before the night was through. Kirk was a big beef of a man, and a very nice guy though he couldn’t dance for squat. However, he was a big-shot financial advisor with all the right contacts – contacts that Miranda was dearly in need of. But befriending him was getting to be too much of a risk to her wellbeing, she discovered, feeling crushed too strongly against his massive frame. He was taking much advantage of the slow, swaying music to practically squelch her against him, and she gritted her teeth. If only her brother Jeffrey could take her position right now. Where the hell was he anyway, she fumed, her eyes scanning the crowded room.

“May I cut in?”

Miranda felt herself pause at the sound of that voice. It was deep, clipped and very refined. A James-Bond kind of voice; more of take-charge mixed with a little bit of black silk smoothness. She looked up quickly, and jammed eyes with the hottest specimen of male flesh she had ever seen.

He was smiling at her, his hunky quality further magnified by that sexy tilt of his lips. His aquamarine eyes were startling in his gorgeous face, which had finely chiseled planes and edges. He was also quite tall, at least six feet, and dressed impeccably in a dark jacket that looked like it was molded to his athletically built frame. Miranda blinked, unable to register much except: holy shit, he’s gorgeous.

“Sorry pal, not happening,” Kirk, her partner, said with a cool smile, looking over his shoulder at the blonde-haired man behind him.

“Oh I insist,” the newcomer drawled. “Because someone needs to spare the lady years of physiotherapy after you’ve finished crushing her feet.”

Miranda bit down the giggle that almost burst from her lips, seeing Kirk’s furious expression. “Now look here…” blustered Kirk, but Miranda chose that moment to slip out of his arms.

“I’d be honored to dance with you,” she murmured, meeting the triumphant gaze of her “rescuer”. She saw Kirk’s face go red, before he stalked off angrily. Well, there goes my hope of ever winning aid from Kirk’s firm, she realized – and decided she didn’t feel even a twinge of regret. Her brother, Jeffrey would have to do his own dirty work and make his own contacts.

Besides, it was all worth being able to glide into the arms of the best looking man in the room. She looked up at him as they drew closer, the proximity necessary due to the tight squeeze on the ballroom dance floor. It took moments for her to realize he was a great dancer, as he moved with manly grace while keeping her in a dangerously intimate embrace. She could feel every outline of his powerfully built frame, her own soft body reacting in ways she couldn’t remember it doing in a long time. Kirk had held her just as closely and she hadn’t felt this breath-stealing sensation, like she was running short on oxygen supply. She felt his fingers dip into the flesh of her waist, seemingly searing through the fabric. Her hand on his shoulder itched to dig deeper, savor the play of muscles that hinted from beneath his tailored jacket.

“Thank you,” she finally said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. Up close, he was almost painfully good-looking, every feature appearing to have been carved by loving hands. There was something familiar about him, and she wondered why that was. She was certain that she wouldn’t have forgotten if they’d ever met before. This wasn’t the kind of man that could ever slip from memory, she felt.#p#分页标题#e#

“Trust me, it’s my pleasure,” he said in that skin-tingling voice of his. He could tell her anything in that voice, and Miranda had the funny feeling she’d instantly obey. For example, if he suddenly asked her something crazy, like “will you go to bed with me – tonight?” she was sure she’d comply first, think later.