"So the battle lines are drawn … I could change your mind, you know."
"But you won't try. Not if you respect me as you should."
Incredibly he began to laugh, throwing his head back so the muscles in his throat stood out like cords. Then he looked straight at her. "I have the feeling my life's been entirely too dull and predictable for the last many years. Both in bed and out. I'll tell you one thing – -you're not dull, and not the slightest bit predictable."
Wasn't that one of the things the critics always said of her? Lia d'Angeli never plays it safe. Never takes the well-worn path. Risks everything to find the heart and soul of the music.
Nine times out of ten, the risks paid off. But would that be true of tonight? With this man? Or would tonight be the tenth concert, the one the critics pounced on with glee?
She had no way of knowing.
CHAPTER TWO
THE band had struck up a tango, a dance that was a battle of the sexes. Meeting Seth's eyes full on, Lia said, "You don't look like someone who'd live a dull life."
With an underlying bitterness Seth said, "Appearances can be deceptive, pretty butterfly."
So he had indeed known unhappiness, this tall stranger in the black cloak. Somehow that strengthened a decision that was already made. Standing tall, Lia said, "Do you agree to my conditions, Seth Talbot? I don't tell you my name, and my mask stays in place."
He stepped closer, took her face between his palms and bent his head to kiss her. It was all there in that one kiss: the compulsion toward each other, the fierce hunger, the dissolving of all her boundaries. His mouth was sure, the slide of his tongue engulfing her in need; his teeth grazed her lips like the flick of fire. Without hesitation Lia met him thrust for thrust, depth to depth, flame wrapped around flame.
Very slowly, he drew back. The green of his eyes had darkened, like a forest falling under the shadows of sundown. His heightened breathing wafted her cheeks as he said unsteadily, "I'd agree to anything to get you in my bed. I don't like your conditions-I don't like them at all. But I agree to them, and I promise I won't go against them."
She let out her pent-up breath in a tiny sigh. With the faintest of smiles she said, "Well. We can stay here, dance, eat, drink and make small talk. Or we can do what we both want to do – -go somewhere where we can be alone."
"I like your style," Seth said.
"Life's short," Lia replied, feeling her heart racket in her chest, "and I believe in living on the edge." She gave a sudden rich chuckle. "A cocoon would never be my choice."
He said abruptly, "I'm booked into a suite in this hotel. We'll go there."
Her lashes flickered. A suite here would cost more than she earned in a month. So he was rich, this man from Manhattan. She said lightly, "I've often wondered what it would be like to stay here. Now I'm going to find out."
"So you're not one of the rich socialites who hangs around Paris at this time of year, waiting until she can open her villa on the Riviera?"
The image amused her. "I work exceedingly hard for my money," she said incautiously, "and hanging around wouldn't suit me at all."
"Just how do you earn this money?" he flashed.
She lifted one finger, tracing the sensuous line of his lower lip, and with a tiny flare of power felt his jaw tighten. "I don't think we're really interested in a discussion of our respective occupations," she said. "I earn my living legally, I'm ferociously ambitious, and I guarantee in ten years' time you will have heard of me. And that's all you're getting out of me. Unless-" she smiled at him artlessly "-you've changed your mind about seducing me?"
"I very rarely meet my match," Seth said. "Most particularly in a woman. No, I haven't changed my mind." With ruthless speed he plunged to find her lips, searing them in a kiss as incendiary as it was brief. Raising his head, he said with a calmness belied by the sparks of fire in his eyes, "Shall we go?"
As he offered his arm, Lia rested her hand on it, the frail colors of one wing dulled by the dense black of his cloak. Another frisson of terror flicked along her nerves. Keeping her head up, she stayed close to him as he threaded his way through the masked revelers; and knew in her heart that this was the biggest risk she'd ever taken. The violin was her home territory, known, loved with a passion and, at times, hated with equal passion. But in affairs of the heart, she was a novice.
Unlike, she was sure, Seth Talbot.
They walked past the doorman, who was absorbed in sorting the piles of invitations. The elevator was made of such highly polished brass that she could see her outline in the walls, a shimmer of turquoise. The scarlet-uniformed attendant pushed the button without Seth saying a word: so he was well-known here, she thought, her nerves tightening another notch.
The elevator took them to the top floor. The brass doors smoothly closed behind them. Clasping her by the hand, Seth led the way along a high-ceilinged hallway to a pair of tall cream-colored doors scrolled in gilt, and swung them open, gesturing for her to enter. But her limbs refused to obey her. Frozen to the spot, she croaked, "I don't know the first thing about you."
"You know what's between us – -what more do you want?"
Her nostrils flared. "You're six inches taller than I am, you probably weigh seventy pounds more, and if you're not a black-belt in karate, it wouldn't take much for you to become one."
He let out his breath in a small sigh. "I've never in my life crushed a butterfly, and I'm not about to start with you."
"I'm supposed to believe you? Just like that?"
"I don't know what the hell's going on between us," he rasped, "but it sure isn't casual, that much I do know. We're going to strip each other naked, little butterfly, in more ways than the obvious one. So this is about trust as much as it's about seduction-I thought you'd already figured that out."
"I hadn't," she said, her eyes smoldering behind her mask. "Trust's a very big word."
He added edgily, "I don't force myself on women, that's not to my taste. Plus there's at least one telephone in every room, and all you have to do is pick up the nearest one for an immediate connection to the front desk. You're safer here than you'd be anywhere else in Paris, believe me."
She was damned if she was going to apologize for her attack of nerves. Walk onto the stage, Lia, she thought wildly, and stalked past him into his suite.
It took her breath away. Her eyes ranged from one end of the room to the other, tarrying on the delicate gold chandeliers, the luxurious embroidered brocades and tasseled velvets. The spacious parquet floor was spread with antique hand-woven carpets. "There's even a balcony," she breathed.
"With a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower," Seth said solemnly. "Would you like to see it?"
All her doubts dropped away. She turned to face him. "Later. Maybe." Then she stood on tiptoes and kissed him with an ardor all the more touching for its lack of expertise.
His eyes narrowed. Taking her face in his hands, he said with careful restraint, "Tell me one thing-you're not a virgin, are you?"
Her head reared back; it never occurred to her to lie. "No, of course not. But I've only been with one man, and that was three years ago. It wasn't about lust on my part, it was about curiosity-and perhaps that's why it didn't move me, body or soul. Serves me right, I suppose."
"I see," said Seth. "Then we'll have to make up for lost time, won't we?" He bent his head, finding her mouth and teasing it open, his tongue dancing along her lips.
She gave a tiny purr of pleasure, molding her body to his, giving herself over to the unknown and the new with the daring that was so characteristic of her. As she thrust her hands beneath his cloak, wrapping them around the taut curves of his rib cage, he dragged her closer; her breasts were crushed to his chest, his arousal so fierce and imperative that she felt a thrill of sheer, feminine power.
His kiss deepened, demanding all she could give. With another thrill of power, Lia knew she wanted to give him everything that was in her, all the passionate hunger for life that had driven her for as long as she could remember. His tongue was hot and slick, his body hard and utterly masculine; reveling in a host of sensations, she dug her fingers in his scalp, pulling his head lower, her knees buckling as wave after wave of desire surged through her belly and throbbed between her thighs.