Much.
Surprise? Make that deeply embarrassing. If there was one lap she didn’t want to land in tonight, it was this lap. And Raffa was holding her so firmly she had no option but to remain exactly where she was, with him shooting heat through her veins, and quite a lot of other places too. Trying not to breathe in case the cheese sandwich she’d chomped down earlier overrode the smell of toothpaste, she remained immobile, while he...while he just smelled amazing. And those eyes...
‘Thank you,’ she said, recovering her senses as he lifted her and steadied her on her feet.
‘I’m glad I caught you.’
His voice was deep and sexy, and faintly accented in a way that would have made the call of a corncrake sound melodious. ‘I’m glad you did too.’ He had just performed a save that would have earned him a standing ovation if she’d been a rugby ball.
‘You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?’
The man for whom the phrase tall, dark and handsome had been invented was looking at her legs. Deeply conscious of her ruined tights, she made a big play of brushing herself down. ‘No. I’m fine.’ She shook both feet in turn as if to prove the point and then felt stupid. He made her feel so gauche.
‘We have met before,’ he said, easing his big, sexy shoulders in a shrug.
‘In the reception line at Britt’s wedding,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
Not only did he smell divine, and he was unreasonably compelling in a swarthy, piratical way, but those wicked eyes and that energy flying off him, both were off the scale. This encounter was so far out of her comfort zone, it was embarrassing, and she was longing to escape, but Raffa seemed in no hurry to get away. In fact he was studying her face as if she were one of the exhibits in the museum. Was her mascara smudged? She wasn’t very good at applying make-up. Worse! Did she have sandwich stuck in her teeth?
Closing her mouth, she checked discreetly with her tongue.
‘Not only did we meet before, we’re almost family, Leila.’
‘Sorry...’ When Raffa’s eyes smiled into hers, she couldn’t think straight. ‘Family?’
‘Sí,’ Raffa insisted in his addictive Spanish drawl. ‘Now the second member of the consortium is marrying a Skavanga sister, there’s only us two left. There’s no need to look so shocked, Señorita Skavanga. I only meant that perhaps we can get to know each other a little better now.’
Did he really want to?
Why did he want to?
Instantly suspicious of why such a devastatingly successful, good-looking man would want to get to know her better, she blurted, ‘I don’t have many shares in the company.’
Raffa laughed then forced a gasp out of her as he bowed over her hand. ‘I don’t have any intention of stealing your shares, Leila.’
How could someone brushing his lips over the back of her hand cause so much sensation? She’d read about things like this. Before they were married or engaged her sisters had talked incessantly about romantic encounters, but this was a whole new world for Leila. Not that Raffa meant to be romantic. It was just his way of putting her at ease.
So why was it having the opposite effect?
People were still pouring up the steps to the party, pressing in on them from every side, making conversation impossible, let alone making it easy to move away from each other. And she was hopeless at small talk. The weather? It was always cold in Skavanga. That would keep them talking for all of ten seconds. But this was a Skavanga sisters’ party, and Raffa was their guest, so it was up to her to make him feel welcome.