the
item. Find a way back in. Check for security.
A soft, lyrical laugh filled the air, and he
sought out the sound’s source with his eyes. It was her, of course,
laughing at some older man, her hand pressed against her heart.
Damn, she was beautiful. Stunning. Doubly so
when she smiled. Those lips, framing perfect white teeth, tortured
him with thoughts he had no business thinking. Not tonight.
But his private pep talk wasn't helping.
All he could think of was her and the fact
that he'd never been knocked off his game before. Never. Work came
first. Pleasure came second. Claire had been part of the plan.
Essential.
But the beauty in the blue dress with the
lovely laugh.... She wasn't part of the plan at all. In fact, she
was a risk, a temptation he hadn't even considered.
He needed some fresh air. Cold air.
A tall set of doors to his right opened to a
stone terrace that would save him from staring at her any longer.
Brax made his getaway.
Damn, he didn't have time for a distraction.
He needed to look around. From where he stood, he could see a lower
level of the house. Maybe it was in a vault down there. Or a
cellar.
A waiter circulated among the few guests
braving the chilly evening air, and he swapped out his empty glass
for a full one. Slowly he sipped the bubbly liquid and turned to
take in his surroundings. He carefully gauged distances, counted
the exits, looked for alternate entry points and scoped out the
home's security. After he finished this glass, he'd find a way
downstairs.
Not that he was stalling....
“Can I give you a tour?”
He turned to see her standing halfway
between him and the door, the yellow light silhouetting her. A
small smile pulled the corners of her mouth upward.
“Sorry. I just find the architecture
amazing.”
“It is lovely.” She stepped closer,
and he felt a punch low in the gut.
“Indeed. It must have been built in the mid
sixteen hundreds.”
“Sixteen forty-two, actually.” She stopped
next to him and leaned against the carved stone railing. So much
for the crisp night air cooling his libido. One look at her and his
temperature was through the roof.
He quirked an eyebrow as he stared down into
her upturned face and tried not to notice the thick fringe of dark
lashes around her crystal blue eyes. Without her heels, she must
have been at least five-foot-eight. With them, she came up to his
chin, and he wondered what it'd feel like to have her in his arms.
To nuzzle the creamy skin of her naked neck.
“This is my father's home,” she said
matter-of-factly.
That cooled him down.
Chapter Two
Roger Savade's daughter? No way. She couldn't
be a day over twenty-five. She hadn't appeared in any of his
research.
She held out her hand. “Elise Savade.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he lifted it to
his lips and brushed a kiss across her sweet-smelling skin.
“Braxton Hughes,” he said but didn't let her
hand go. Instead, he rubbed his kiss into her skin with his
thumb.
“So, Mr. Hughes.... Would you like a tour?”
The way she spoke sounded as if she was asking if he'd like a tour
of a much more personal sort. Heaven help him, he couldn't deny
that he very much wanted an intimate tour. Of her. And with Claire
otherwise engaged....
This would be the perfect opportunity to
snoop around the house. And now that he knew who she was, and who
she was related to, he could get the grand tour without drawing
attention to himself.
“Absolutely.”
Elise led him through the throng of people,
past the quartet, and into a long central hallway. She spoke
softly, telling him about this and that. He found himself watching
her speak instead of paying attention to the layout of the
house.
“What do you do, Mr. Hughes?” Damn, her
accent was sexy. English with a touch of French. She must have
spent a great deal of time in England.
“I was an architect,” he lied.
“Was?”
“Before my wife died. Afterward I left the
firm. Right now I'm trying to find inspiration to
item. Find a way back in. Check for security.
A soft, lyrical laugh filled the air, and he
sought out the sound’s source with his eyes. It was her, of course,
laughing at some older man, her hand pressed against her heart.
Damn, she was beautiful. Stunning. Doubly so
when she smiled. Those lips, framing perfect white teeth, tortured
him with thoughts he had no business thinking. Not tonight.
But his private pep talk wasn't helping.
All he could think of was her and the fact
that he'd never been knocked off his game before. Never. Work came
first. Pleasure came second. Claire had been part of the plan.
Essential.
But the beauty in the blue dress with the
lovely laugh.... She wasn't part of the plan at all. In fact, she
was a risk, a temptation he hadn't even considered.
He needed some fresh air. Cold air.
A tall set of doors to his right opened to a
stone terrace that would save him from staring at her any longer.
Brax made his getaway.
Damn, he didn't have time for a distraction.
He needed to look around. From where he stood, he could see a lower
level of the house. Maybe it was in a vault down there. Or a
cellar.
A waiter circulated among the few guests
braving the chilly evening air, and he swapped out his empty glass
for a full one. Slowly he sipped the bubbly liquid and turned to
take in his surroundings. He carefully gauged distances, counted
the exits, looked for alternate entry points and scoped out the
home's security. After he finished this glass, he'd find a way
downstairs.
Not that he was stalling....
“Can I give you a tour?”
He turned to see her standing halfway
between him and the door, the yellow light silhouetting her. A
small smile pulled the corners of her mouth upward.
“Sorry. I just find the architecture
amazing.”
“It is lovely.” She stepped closer,
and he felt a punch low in the gut.
“Indeed. It must have been built in the mid
sixteen hundreds.”
“Sixteen forty-two, actually.” She stopped
next to him and leaned against the carved stone railing. So much
for the crisp night air cooling his libido. One look at her and his
temperature was through the roof.
He quirked an eyebrow as he stared down into
her upturned face and tried not to notice the thick fringe of dark
lashes around her crystal blue eyes. Without her heels, she must
have been at least five-foot-eight. With them, she came up to his
chin, and he wondered what it'd feel like to have her in his arms.
To nuzzle the creamy skin of her naked neck.
“This is my father's home,” she said
matter-of-factly.
That cooled him down.
Chapter Two
Roger Savade's daughter? No way. She couldn't
be a day over twenty-five. She hadn't appeared in any of his
research.
She held out her hand. “Elise Savade.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he lifted it to
his lips and brushed a kiss across her sweet-smelling skin.
“Braxton Hughes,” he said but didn't let her
hand go. Instead, he rubbed his kiss into her skin with his
thumb.
“So, Mr. Hughes.... Would you like a tour?”
The way she spoke sounded as if she was asking if he'd like a tour
of a much more personal sort. Heaven help him, he couldn't deny
that he very much wanted an intimate tour. Of her. And with Claire
otherwise engaged....
This would be the perfect opportunity to
snoop around the house. And now that he knew who she was, and who
she was related to, he could get the grand tour without drawing
attention to himself.
“Absolutely.”
Elise led him through the throng of people,
past the quartet, and into a long central hallway. She spoke
softly, telling him about this and that. He found himself watching
her speak instead of paying attention to the layout of the
house.
“What do you do, Mr. Hughes?” Damn, her
accent was sexy. English with a touch of French. She must have
spent a great deal of time in England.
“I was an architect,” he lied.
“Was?”
“Before my wife died. Afterward I left the
firm. Right now I'm trying to find inspiration to
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