'Thank you.' She responded to the comment as she was expected to and, with civilities attended to, TJ turned to Valentino-the latest object of his fickle affections.
'Maverick. I have someone who's been dying to meet you.'
Miller tried to smile as the famous supermodel Janelle, clothed in a clinging nude-coloured chiffon creation, stepped out from behind TJ and extended her elegant hand.
A sort of mini-dramatic entrance, Miller thought sourly. Which was a little unfair, because by all accounts the model was not only considered the most beautiful woman on the planet, but the nicest as well. And she looked sweetly nervous as Valentino's large hand engulfed hers.
'Mr Ventura...'
Janelle's awed exhalation promised sexual antics in the bedroom Miller had only ever fantasised about-and with the man now staring at the supermodel no less.
'This is Janelle,' TJ continued. 'Latest sensation to hit the New York runways. But I don't have to tell you that. You probably have her photo up on your garage wall.' He guffawed at his own tasteless humour and then seemed to remember his audience. 'No disrespect, Miller.'
'None taken,' Miller lied smoothly. Because what she really wanted to say would jeopardise everything she had worked so hard for.
She felt Valentino tense beside her and wondered if he wasn't experiencing some sort of extreme physical reaction to the beautiful blonde. Every other man in the room seemed to be.
'Janelle.' Valentino smiled and slowly released her hand.
God, they looked perfect together. Her blonde to his dark.
Feeling like a poor cousin next to the stunning model Miller excused herself and left the men to ogle Janelle alone. No need to be a glutton for punishment.
She'd veered off from her decoy destination of the bathroom and made it to the glass bi-fold doors leading outside when Dexter appeared at her side.
'You know, Dexter, I don't know if I can go another round with you,' Miller said with bald honesty.
It was another balmy, star-filled night and she just wanted fresh air and peace.
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. 'I read some of the ideas you put down this afternoon. They're good.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'The only thing bothering me with that comment is that you seem to have expected something less.'
He tugged at the collar on his shirt. 'Can we talk?'
Resignation settled like a brick in her stomach and she extended her hand towards the deck. Might as well fulfil the fresh air component of her plan at least.
'By all means.'
Dexter walked ahead of her, but when he made to continue down the steps towards the more secluded Japanese garden Miller stayed him. 'Here's fine.'
She had no wish to recall the heady kiss she had shared with Valentino the night before any more than she already had. Not with Dexter around anyway.
Winding around various partygoers, Miller found a quiet part of the deck and turned to face him. 'What did you want to say?'
'Firstly, I wanted to apologise for being such an a-hole in the meeting earlier today. My intention was only to stop you from getting hurt.'
Miller felt a sense of unease prickle the skin along her cheekbones. 'I've noticed that you haven't seemed yourself lately,' she ventured. 'Is something going on with Carly again?'
'No, no. That's well and truly over.' He gripped the wooden railing and seemed absorbed by the whiteness of his knuckles.
'I'm sorry to hear that.' Even though she had never met Dexter's wife, Miller hated to hear of the end of any marriage.
Dexter jerked back and flexed his hands before catching her eye. 'Come on, Miller. Surely you know what this is about?'
Miller stared at him. Shook her head. 'No.' But she did know, didn't she? Ruby and Valentino had already warned her...
'Okay, if you want me to spell it out I will.' He seemed slightly nervous. 'Us.'
'Us?' Miller knew her voice had become shrill with alarm.
He nodded, clearly warming to his subject. 'Or more specifically the chemistry between us.'
'Chemistry?'
'I want you, Miller. There's been something between us since the moment we met.'
He held his hand up and silenced her attempt to save them both any further embarrassment.
'I know you don't want to acknowledge it because we work together, but you know I've felt like this since university. My coming to work for Oracle six months ago has just made those feelings deepen. And, yes, I know what you're going to say.' He stopped her again. 'I'm your superior and office affairs don't work. But I know of plenty that have and I'm willing to risk it.'
Miller was speechless, and barely noticed when he took her hand in his. 'I've been behaving like an idiot this weekend because I haven't wanted to accept that you're really dating that pretty boy inside. Okay, I can see the appeal. But we both know it won't last, and I'm not prepared to hold my breath and wait around for it to fizzle out.'
'That's too bad, Caruthers. I would have enjoyed seeing you atrophy.'
Miller jumped at the sound of Valentino's deep, modulated voice and so did Dexter. She glanced up and was once again taken aback by the cold glint in his eyes-a stormy-grey under the soft external lights.
He looked relaxed as he regarded Dexter: preternaturally relaxed. In this mode she could easily see why he was going for his eighth world championship. The shock was in the fact that other drivers had dared go up against him in the first place.
Miller saw Dexter's chest puff out in a classic testosterone-fuelled gesture and was horrified that he might cause a scene. Because right now Valentino looked as if he wanted to chew Dexter up and spit him out sideways.
'You don't have ownership rights here, Ventura.'
Ownership rights? Miller's gaze swung back to Dexter. What was she? A car?
'Let her go,' Valentino ordered quietly, his eyes never straying from Dexter's.
Miller realised Dexter was still holding her hand and tugged it free, wondering why it was that only French champagne and Valentino's touch seemed to make her insides fizz with excitement.
'Miller is her own boss,' Dexter opined.
Now, that was more like it.
'Miller is mine.' Valentino's soft growl was full of menace.
The immediate warmth that stole through her system at his possessive words threw Miller off-balance. How many times had she imagined her father riding in on a white charger and restoring her torn world to rights again? To have Valentino stand up for her was...disconcerting. Unnerving. Exhilarating.
Dexter was the first to break eye contact in the stag competition going on, and Miller couldn't blame him. Even though he was cleanly shaven, Valentino, at least in this mood, was not a man you would cross. He was like a lethal warrior of old who would not only win, but would take no prisoners either.
'Dance.'
Valentino held out his hand for her and she felt herself bristle when he didn't even glance her way. Then his steely eyes cut to hers and she forgot about being grouchy.
'Please.'
Her heart beat as fast as his silver sports car had eaten up the bitumen on their trip down as he led her onto the parquet dance floor.
'What's with the caveman antics?' she asked softly.
Valentino stared at her, his feet unmoving, his eyes intense, seemingly transfixed by hers. 'Playing the part of the jealous boyfriend. What else?'
Playing the part of the jealous boyfriend...
It took a moment for his words to register fully, and when they did Miller felt sick. Playing the part. Pretending. Fake.
The skin on her face felt as if it had been whipped, and she briefly closed her eyes against his handsome face.
If she thought she'd been embarrassed spilling all her secrets to him earlier, she now felt one hundred times worse.
Miller tried to understand why she felt so miserable. So he had stood up for her and she'd felt warmed by it? So he had been hurt by the loss of his father, as she had? So he had remembered her favourite ice cream flavour.
He was a nice person. That was all that amounted to. Nicer than she'd first thought. But at the end of the day he was still no one to her. A virtual stranger.
A virtual stranger who had brought her to orgasm within minutes of touching her. And if only she could stop thinking about that!
Steeling herself against emotions she couldn't immediately label, and determined he wouldn't know how she had momentarily forgotten this whole thing was fake, Miller breathed deeply and slowly.
'Just be thankful this thing isn't real between us,' he growled menacingly. 'I would have decked him if it was.'
For a horrifying second Miller wondered if he'd read her thoughts. 'For challenging you?'
'For staring at your breasts as if he could already imagine touching them. He hasn't, has he?'
Miller's eyebrows shot up. 'Of course not.'
He scowled. 'You don't want him to, do you?'
'No!'
Wow! He almost had her convinced he was seriously miffed about Dexter's interest.
'Good. And don't ever walk off on me in the middle of a conversation again.'