An Inconvenient Affair

Abruptly, he stopped.

Troy stood at the end of row five. Her row. He stood beside Colonel Salvatore. The older gentleman—her contact—scowled at Troy.

And why not? He was making it difficult for her to stay low profile this weekend, which was what she’d been instructed to do. But then he couldn’t possibly know how much trouble he could cause just by bringing the spotlight to this row.

Troy extended his hand and looked Hillary straight in the eyes. “I choose you.”

Three

Her stomach fell as quickly as her anger rose, which was mighty darn hard and fast. What game was he playing now? She had no clue.

She did know that every single pair of eyes in this room was glued to her. She looked farther—and crap—her horrified face was plastered right there in full color on the wide screens.

Undaunted, Troy dropped to one knee.

Damn his theatrical soul.

“Hillary—” his voice boomed through the speakers “—think of the children and their scholarships. Be my date for the weekend.”

She wanted to shove him on his arrogant ass.

Troy shifted his attention to the colonel. “I assume you won’t mind me stealing your date?”

The colonel cleared his throat and said, “She’s my niece. I trust you’ll treat her well.”

Niece? Whatever. Sheesh. This was nuts.

A steadying hand palmed her back. Salvatore. Her skin turned fiery with embarrassment. She turned to him for help.

Salvatore smiled one of those grins that didn’t come close to reaching his pale blue eyes. “You should dance, Hillary.”

Right. She should get her feet moving and then people would stop staring at her. Determined to feel nothing, she put her hand in Troy’s—and still her stomach did a flip. She was not sixteen, for crying out loud. Although his grip felt so warm—callused and tender at the same time. Her body freakin’ tingled to life. She’d always prided herself on being in control of her emotions. The second she’d found out what an immoral creep Barry was, she’d felt nothing but repulsion at his touch.

She knew Troy was a liar, a crook and a playboy. Still her body sang at the notion of stepping into his arms and gliding across the dance floor.

Plus, he’d just bid nearly ninety thousand dollars to spend the weekend with her. Gulp.

The pianist began playing. A singer in a red dress cupped the microphone and launched into a sultry rendition of a 1940s love song.

Troy tucked her to his side and led her to the center of the empty dance floor. The spotlight warmed her already-heating cheeks. His silk scarf teased her hand as he held it against his chest and swept her into the glide of the music. She should have known he would be a smooth dancer.

She blurted out, “Is there anything you don’t do well?”

“I take it that’s not a compliment.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m here to work this weekend, not play games.”

“Believe me, this is no game.” He pulled her close.

She inhaled sharply at the press of his muscled body against hers. He wasn’t some soft desk jockey. He was a toned, honed man. Her mouth dried and her pulse sped up.

“Just relax and dance.” His warm breath caressed her ear. “And I promise not to sing along. Because, in answer to your question, I’m tone-deaf.”

“Thanks for sharing. But it’s not helping. You can’t truly expect me to relax,” she hissed, even as her feet synced perfectly with his. His strong legs brushed ever so subtly against hers with each dance step. “You just told a roomful of people and a pack of reporters that you paid nearly ninety-thousand dollars to spend the weekend with me. Me. A woman you’ve known for less than a day. We’ve only spoken for an hour.”

He guided her around the floor as other couples joined in. The shifting mass of other bodies created a sense of privacy now that all eyes weren’t so fiercely focused on them.

“Well, Troy?” she pressed. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”

“Don’t you believe in love at first sight?” He nuzzled her hair, inhaling deeply.

She stumbled, bumped into another couple, then righted her steps, if not her racing pulse. “No, I do not. I believe in lust at first sight, but not love. Don’t confuse the two.”

All the same, she couldn’t help but draw in another whiff of his bay rum scent now that she was as close to him as she’d ever been. Swaying, she resisted the urge to press her cheek to his and savor the bristle of late-day stubble. The kind of slightly unshaven look that wasn’t scruffy, but shouted testosterone to a woman’s basic instincts.

But the music slowed and she rested her cheek against his chest, just over the silken scarf for a moment.

“Hmm.” His chest rumbled with approval. “So you admit you’re attracted to me.”

Of course she was. That didn’t mean she intended to tell him. “Correction—I was stating that you are simply attracted to me.”

He laughed softly, spanning her waist with a bold, broad palm. “Your confidence is compelling.”

“Not confidence, exactly.” She leaned back to study his eyes. “Why else would you have gone to all this outrageous trouble to spend time with me? Although I guess you’re so wealthy that perhaps the obscene amount of money doesn’t mean anything to you.”