BlindHeat by Nara Malone

gentleman in the foyer, a couple of inches shorter than Marcus, at
least twenty pounds heavier. Surely, she must be able to tell them apart. He
frowned and went forward to greet her. As soon as he moved toward her, she
looked directly at him. Only when he smiled did she send a relieved, but
cautious, smile back at him. He’d learned a lot from his research that
afternoon and now he recognized that aloofness as the tool Allie relied on most
when she was unsure of identity.
    “Hey,” she said. Not using his name he noted. She might as
well have asked, Is that you? Are you my date? They’d spent half an hour
staring directly at each other’s faces over lunch. They’d been nose to nose
that morning—though that encounter had included a few distractions.
    “Hey,” he said back. Now her smile broadened and warmed.
    He held out a hand and she put hers in his. “Allie, what is
it? You’re ice cold. Trembling.” The coat she was wearing looked warm enough
for the chill of a March evening.
    “Nothing. I got lost. No big deal.” She shrugged.
    He led her into the candlelit restaurant. “Our table is
ready. You should have asked for directions when we were on the phone this
afternoon if you didn’t know the way.”
    He led her on through to a table that looked out on a small
lamp-lit garden. The restaurant wasn’t busy. The subtly romantic atmosphere and
quiet conversation around them were perfect for weaving the seductive spell he
had in mind.
    “I might have asked for directions,” she was saying, “if I
had been the one to take the call.”
    He was helping her out of her coat when she made that little
revelation. She was wearing a dress, simply cut to reveal a hint of cleavage,
enough creamy skin set against the dusky-rose color to make his mouth water,
sexy in a delicate way rather than a come-and-get-it way. Shy and alluring at
once. It suited her perfectly. He knew the entire contents of her wardrobe—not
enough to fill up a suitcase. This wasn’t hers. He doubted she’d gone shopping
for a date with him, hadn’t had time between work and now.
    Her hair was gathered to the back of her neck where it fell
in a tumble of loose waves to cover bare neck and shoulders. He breathed a
delicate perfume that made him want to press his nose to her neck and follow the
trail down that sweet curve of her back and lower to discover where else she
had dabbed scent.
    A waiter took their coats. Marcus was trying to remember
what he said on the phone as they followed the hostess to a table. Not
something meant for any ears but hers, but the details remained vague. At the
table he held a chair for Allie and she seemed startled by that small gesture,
hesitating a moment before slipping into place. He lingered a moment just above
and behind her, enjoying the view.
    “So if that wasn’t you on the phone, who was I talking to?”
he asked.
    Allie fingered a delicate chain with a pearl drop pendant.
“My fairy godmother.” Her head dipped and she was looking down at herself as if
she were looking at someone else. “She’s got one heck of a magic wand.”
    Marcus leaned in, stroked the pearl, his knuckles grazing
her breasts. “I see the same Allison I’ve always seen. The Allison you work
hard at hiding. The only magic is your friend’s ability to reveal you.”
    One of those long curls had fallen over her shoulder, a coil
of dark silk drawing his eyes to the contrast of luminous skin and taking them
on a journey to the swell of her breasts. He allowed himself the pleasure of
sliding his finger inside the soft silken tunnel, his mind going to a vision of
her under him, legs around his waist and him sliding inside her. He’d barely
been in her presence five minutes and already his control was slipping away. He
dropped into the chair across from Allie and tried to think of something to say
that wouldn’t reveal where his thoughts had wandered. The waiter returned and
for a few minutes they were distracted by the business of