entered the upstairs apartment. "The ambulance chaser is here." She shot him another sly look to see how he reacted to the slur on his profession, but there was no real malice in her eyes this time.
Matt felt as if he'd passed some test he hadn't even known he'd taken.
"You, like, want some champagne?" Heather asked, reaching for the bottle on the counter as she spoke.
Matt crooked his fingers at her in a beckoning motion. "Give it to me," he said, "I'll open it."
"I can open it."
Matt shook his head, leaning across the counter to take it out of her hand. "It's not that I don't trust you...." He let his voice trail off.
Heather grinned and let him take the bottle.
He was just pouring champagne into a fluted glass when Susannah walked out of the bedroom. Matt sucked in his breath and stared.
Her hair was down, the way it had been the first time he'd seen her. Springy corkscrew curls framed the pale oval of her face and cascaded over her shoulders, a rich, lustrous mahogany red against the silky creaminess of her bared skin. Her dress was soft and pink and floaty, with thin straps made of sparkly beads and a U-shaped neckline that dipped just low enough to hint at the beginning swell of her breasts. The whole thing seemed to shimmer, catching and reflecting the light with her slightest breath.
Susannah hesitated just outside her bedroom door, her smile fixed and uncertain, waiting for Matt to react in a way she could interpret. Was his stunned silence good or bad? Was he bowled over with admiration for her elegant and sophisticated taste? Or wondering if she was really going to out in public dressed like a Las Vegas chorus girl?
"Tell her she looks nice," Heather hissed, just as Matt felt ice-cold champagne trickle over his fingers and onto the floor. He jerked the champagne bottle upright, setting it, and the overflowing flute, down on the marble counter with a sharp click.
"You look incredible, Susannah." He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. "Absolutely stunning."
Susannah's smiled bloomed with relief and she let out the breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Her self-confidence miraculously restored by his obvious admiration, she stepped out of the doorway and walked across the room toward him, slowly, never once taking her eyes from his. The heels of her new evening shoes clicked against the hardwood floor. The uneven handkerchief hem of her dress flirted with her slender calves, concealing and revealing them with every step. The hip-length beaded bodice sparkled around her slim torso, making her look as if she were surrounded by stardust.
She stopped in front of Matt, close enough for him to smell the exotic oriental fragrance she'd used in her bath, and reached up to straighten his perfectly straight black satin bow tie.
"So do you," she said softly. "Look incredible, I mean."
And he did. Most men looked a little uncomfortable in black tie, as if they weren't quite sure everything was on right. Matt looked born to it, as elegant and at ease as a royal Scandinavian prince. Tall, blond, broad-shouldered and almost icily remote, until he smiled and reached up to take her hands in his. He lifted them to his lips, one at a time, and the look in his eyes as he pressed his mouth to each of her sensitive palms in turn wasn't remote at all. It burned hot enough to melt glaciers—or a woman's foolish heart.
Heather's low whistle intruded into the taut silence. "It's, like, wow, Cinderella and frigging Prince Charming," she said admiringly.
Susannah laughed softly, shakily, and slipped her hands out of Matt's in an effort to regain the equilibrium he'd stolen with just a smile and a heated look. Matt let her slide her fingers from his without protest, his look telling her —promising her—that she wouldn't get away so easily next time and that if it hadn't been for Heather standing there watching them and the people waiting for them at the hotel, she wouldn't have gotten away this
Matt felt as if he'd passed some test he hadn't even known he'd taken.
"You, like, want some champagne?" Heather asked, reaching for the bottle on the counter as she spoke.
Matt crooked his fingers at her in a beckoning motion. "Give it to me," he said, "I'll open it."
"I can open it."
Matt shook his head, leaning across the counter to take it out of her hand. "It's not that I don't trust you...." He let his voice trail off.
Heather grinned and let him take the bottle.
He was just pouring champagne into a fluted glass when Susannah walked out of the bedroom. Matt sucked in his breath and stared.
Her hair was down, the way it had been the first time he'd seen her. Springy corkscrew curls framed the pale oval of her face and cascaded over her shoulders, a rich, lustrous mahogany red against the silky creaminess of her bared skin. Her dress was soft and pink and floaty, with thin straps made of sparkly beads and a U-shaped neckline that dipped just low enough to hint at the beginning swell of her breasts. The whole thing seemed to shimmer, catching and reflecting the light with her slightest breath.
Susannah hesitated just outside her bedroom door, her smile fixed and uncertain, waiting for Matt to react in a way she could interpret. Was his stunned silence good or bad? Was he bowled over with admiration for her elegant and sophisticated taste? Or wondering if she was really going to out in public dressed like a Las Vegas chorus girl?
"Tell her she looks nice," Heather hissed, just as Matt felt ice-cold champagne trickle over his fingers and onto the floor. He jerked the champagne bottle upright, setting it, and the overflowing flute, down on the marble counter with a sharp click.
"You look incredible, Susannah." He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. "Absolutely stunning."
Susannah's smiled bloomed with relief and she let out the breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Her self-confidence miraculously restored by his obvious admiration, she stepped out of the doorway and walked across the room toward him, slowly, never once taking her eyes from his. The heels of her new evening shoes clicked against the hardwood floor. The uneven handkerchief hem of her dress flirted with her slender calves, concealing and revealing them with every step. The hip-length beaded bodice sparkled around her slim torso, making her look as if she were surrounded by stardust.
She stopped in front of Matt, close enough for him to smell the exotic oriental fragrance she'd used in her bath, and reached up to straighten his perfectly straight black satin bow tie.
"So do you," she said softly. "Look incredible, I mean."
And he did. Most men looked a little uncomfortable in black tie, as if they weren't quite sure everything was on right. Matt looked born to it, as elegant and at ease as a royal Scandinavian prince. Tall, blond, broad-shouldered and almost icily remote, until he smiled and reached up to take her hands in his. He lifted them to his lips, one at a time, and the look in his eyes as he pressed his mouth to each of her sensitive palms in turn wasn't remote at all. It burned hot enough to melt glaciers—or a woman's foolish heart.
Heather's low whistle intruded into the taut silence. "It's, like, wow, Cinderella and frigging Prince Charming," she said admiringly.
Susannah laughed softly, shakily, and slipped her hands out of Matt's in an effort to regain the equilibrium he'd stolen with just a smile and a heated look. Matt let her slide her fingers from his without protest, his look telling her —promising her—that she wouldn't get away so easily next time and that if it hadn't been for Heather standing there watching them and the people waiting for them at the hotel, she wouldn't have gotten away this
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