Her disbelieving question was dismissed by another of those disarming smiles that lit his face so vividly, yet somehow managed not to reach his eyes, which remained as coldly distant and assessing as in the first moment she had met him. But even as her mind shivered in the glare of that ice-clear gaze, other, more vulnerable, more instinctual, more female parts of her were responding mindlessly to the power of that smile.
Just a curve of the lips, nothing more, and yet it warmed her deep inside, had her heart beating quicker, heat spreading right through her, melting, softening, pulsing downwards. Never before had her rational self and the unthinking, instinctive part of her been so much at war, so totally distant and on opposite sides of the fence. She knew that her sensible self should be the stronger, winning any argument without a problem, but right now it was the irrational, totally emotional—totally sensual—side that was winning…
She could tell herself that she was just imagining things. That no man could have such an instant and potent effect on her in such a short space of time. She could say it over and over again, trying to drill it into her stupid head, but even when she thought she’d succeeded, then the aching gap that yearned after Santos refused to be erased, hungering after one more glance from those brilliant eyes, the sound of his gorgeously accented voice, another of those devastating smiles.
‘I thought we agreed not to waste the reception that had already been prepared.’
‘We didn’t agree on anything—you decreed it would be that way.’
‘So if I asked you to dance, you would say no?’
‘Dance?’
Was the man crazy? Did he really plan on dancing at this wake for his wedding?
As if on cue, the sound of music started up in the next room and as she blinked in confusion Santos held his hand out to her, palm upwards, ready to take hers.
‘I hired musicians too,’ he said with a faint twist to his beautiful mouth. ‘I don’t plan on wasting them, either. Dance with me, Alexa.’
‘I—can’t …’
‘Can’t?’ His tone made it plain that he found her response impossible to understand. ‘Or won’t?’
The hand he had held out still hung between them, strong fingers splayed, the width of his palm tempting her to put her hand into it and feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscle underneath her own fingertips. Her hand twitched at her side, fighting against the sensual need to do just that and, hidden by the fall of her dress, her fingers clenched into a tight fist until her nails dug into her palm, the closest she could come to a much needed pinch to reassert reality, tell herself that she was not dreaming. This really was happening.
The day had been so totally different from the way she had expected it to go from the moment that she had got up that morning that she could almost believe she had done something like Alice and stepped through the looking glass into a new and completely unexpected world, where everything was back to front and upside down and she couldn’t begin to find her way through anything or try to understand it.
‘I shouldn’t!’
‘And why not?’
His voice had sharpened on the question, putting a sting into it that made her wince.
‘You’re supposed to start the dancing with your bride—your wife!’
‘But my bride is thousands of miles away. Tell me something …’
His tone had changed abruptly as he took a couple of sharp, swift steps towards her, letting his hand fall back down again until it rested on the fine leather belt that encircled his narrow waist. And it was only when she saw it drop that Alexa could acknowledge the sting of disappointment that his movement brought, the way that she had really wanted to take his hand, feel its warm strength curl around her.
‘If this were not my wedding day—if we had met some other day, some other time and I had asked you to dance—would you say yes? If this was a party at which we had just met, would you dance with me then?’
Of course I would.
The words flew into Alexa’s mind so fast and so clearly that she actually felt she might have spoken them aloud, or at least that they had sounded in the air so that Santos could hear them. Hastily she closed her eyes, fearful that he might be able to read her thoughts in her eyes and so know how hard and how fast she had fallen under his seductive spell.
‘Would you?’
He was so close now that he only needed to murmur the question for her to hear it, and his breath stirred the wayward strands of her hair at her ear and temple as he bent his proud head towards hers. The scent of his body tormented her senses, making her think of the hard reality of the flesh and muscle concealed underneath the elegant, tailored clothing.