The Purest of Diamonds(4)

                Bracing herself, she launched in. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your trip to Skavanga.’

                He seemed amused by her opening sally. ‘I am now.’

                This was accompanied by a slanting smile that would bring Hollywood to its knees.

                ‘It’s been back-to-back business meetings for me before tonight,’ he explained, his face turning serious, which was another great look for him. ‘I just finished another meeting.’

                ‘So you’re staying here at the hotel?’

                She blushed as Raffa held her gaze and frowned slightly. He probably thought she was coming on to him, when that was a typical example of Leila Skavanga out of her depth and swimming frantically to reach the shore. Or, to put it another way: she had zero small talk.

                Fortunately, Raffa had turned to assess the logistics of making it through the door without being trampled on. ‘It seems to have quietened down a bit. Shall we go in?’

                ‘Oh, I can make it from here,’ she insisted, guessing he was longing to get away.

                ‘Don’t look so worried, Leila,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re going to love the party. Trust me...’

                Trust Raffa Leon? When everyone knew his reputation? ‘I’d better find my sisters, but thank you for your assurance—and for your great save,’ she added as an afterthought, smiling.

                ‘Don’t mention it.’

                His eyes were warm and luminous, and they plumbed deep, considering Raffa Leon was practically a stranger. This only made her more determined to stick to her original plan, which was to share a quick drink with her sisters, eat dinner—without spilling food down her, if possible—and then indulge in a little non-controversial chit-chat before shooting off as soon as she politely could.

                ‘You’re shivering, Leila—’

                Oh... She was, she realised now.

                ‘And you’re laughing?’

                She bit her lip, to stop thinking about the Raffa effect, and how her shivering had nothing to do with the freezing cold.

                ‘Here—put my overcoat on...’

                ‘Oh, no, I—’

                Too late! She might have a perfectly good jacket, but Raffa’s reflexes were too fast for her and now she had his coat draped round her shoulders. It was hard to pretend she wasn’t distracted by his residual heat in the coat, or by the fact that it still carried the faint imprint of his cologne.

                ‘How did you get all this mud on your dress, Leila?’

                As he noticed everything she decided to make a joke of it. ‘I...um...slipped away for a minute?’

                He laughed. ‘And I thought I saved you.’

                ‘Almost.’

                ‘Next time I’ll have to do better.’

                ‘Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. It was my fault for chatting to the cabbie instead of looking where I was going.’

                Raffa’s mouth kicked up at one corner as his eyes lit in a conspiratorial smile. ‘The landing wasn’t too hard, I hope?’