The food was superb and the champagne and conversation flowed freely through half a dozen courses, except for the last couple at the table: Diego and a stunning Russian model called Lenka, who could not speak a word of any language but her own.
'Lenka is a typical Diego type,' Jake murmured to Charlie in a soft aside as Stephanie, having finished her sweet, tried to engage the model in conversation. 'Diego likes his women to be models, mobile and mute.'
'And of course you don't?' Charlie mocked with an elegant lift of a finely arched brow, remembering Melissa. Her blue eyes dimmed and she speared a solitary morsel of gateau left on her plate and popped it into her mouth.
'I have dated several, I can't deny it.' Jake settled back in his chair and regarded her with dark intent eyes. 'But my preference is for a beautiful English blonde, with a penchant for climbing, but not of the social variety, and maybe just a little bit too much mouth.' Leaning forward, he lifted a finger. 'Speaking of your delectable mouth, you have a crumb.' The pad of his index finger stroked the corner of her mouth and lingered.
'Come on, you two, less of the canoodling and lead the dancing,' Diego called with a laugh.
'Shall we?' Jake suggested smoothly as the band struck up the wedding waltz, and, rising to his feet, he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor.
With all his friends watching she could not disagree, but it struck her forcibly how little she really knew of Jake as he slid an arm around her, his hand splaying firmly across the centre of her back as he moved her in close to him. 'Do you realise I have never danced with you? I don't know if I can.'
'Trust me,' Jake murmured, grinning down at her. 'For a woman who moves like you in my bed, dancing is a given.' And he was right.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY danced, Jake stroking his hand gently up Charlie's bare back, while the other caught her hand and held it tight to his chest. They circled the floor once to the applause of the crowd, and then other couples joined them.
'Thank God. I hate being the centre of attention,' Charlie murmured, tilting back her head to glance up at him.
'I thank God for you,' Jake murmured, his dark gaze intent on her upturned face. .
Charlie's lips parted. The compliment was so unlike Jake she had trouble believing him, but there was something so convincing in his tone she couldn't help herself. Their eyes met and desire sharp as a rapier lanced between them. He raised her hand to his shoulder and left it there, to slide his own down to curve over her hip and urge her closer, one long leg edging between hers. She felt him stir against her and the familiar heat flowed through her.
Dear heaven, he felt so good, and though she knew he did not love her there was a sensual part of her that ached for his strength, the heat and power of his possession. She sank against the hard, lean length of him, her fingers instinctively linking behind his neck, her head resting on his shoulder as she gave herself up to the slow music and the sheer joy of being in his arms.
They were cocooned in a world of their own, and there was only the brush of thigh on thigh, hand on skin, the sensual stimulation of two bodies in perfect harmony as they moved to the slow, dreamy music.
Then the tempo changed to a loud disco beat.
Jake stopped, but held her close, his dark head dipping to hers. 'How long do you think before we can decently leave our own party?' he husked, his breath a warm caress against her cheek.
Mistily, Charlie glanced up at him, her blue eyes meshing with gleaming brown as he added with wry, self-deprecatory humour, 'Or, in my case, indecently.' The increased pressure of his hand on her bottom told her exactly what he meant.
She made no response; she simply gave him a slow sensual smile.
'That's it,' Jake growled. 'We're leaving.'
'We can't, the guests will be disappointed,' she murmured, not very convincingly, and saw his dark eyes flare and take on a devilish gleam.
'Not necessarily.' He grinned. 'Follow me.'
Five minutes later, after Jake had spoken to his foster- parents and a few of the guests, she found herself once more in the back of the limousine with Jake's arm draped around her shoulders.
'What on earth did you say to everyone to make them look at me so sympathetically?'
'I told them you felt faint and needed to lie down.'
'You what?' Charlie should have been furious, but instead her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. 'You liar.'
'Not exactly. I need to lie down.' His deep dark drawl fractured and his long fingers curved her neck. He tilted her head and his smouldering black eyes blazed down into hers. 'Quite desperately...with you.' His thumb stroked her nape, and then his mouth was brushing her lips slowly—oh, so slowly.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and his lie was suddenly the truth. She did feel faint. Faint with the myriad sensations flowing through her body, faint with love... Her mouth opened beneath his and a tiny moan sounded in her throat as the kiss deepened into a hungry, devouring force. He moved close, his hand raking up through her hair, sending the carefully contrived style into chaos as he angled her head. Her upper body was tight against him. The thought of resistance didn't enter her head, and when his hand slipped under the bodice of her dress, his fingers finding and teasing the pebble-like nipple, she shuddered, heat flowing through her like a river of fire. She wanted him, ached for him...