One Night with Morelli(5)By: Kim Lawrence
‘Is it true that Latimer is marrying his cook?’
‘I haven’t a clue.’ Draco, who had less liking for gossip than he did weddings, replied honestly while he thought of a pink tartan bra and a pair of big green eyes…
On his way down in the elevator he thought some more about the bra’s owner, and he was so involved in the mental images that there was a twenty-second delay before he noticed that the lift door had opened.
Focus, Draco… He did not for a second doubt his ability to do just that; it was a case of prioritising and he was good at that. It had been this ability that had got him past the first few weeks and months after Clare had walked out. He could have carried on being bitter, twisted and generally wallowing in a morass of self-pity; he could have allowed himself to be defined by that failure.
But he hadn’t.
After that reminder, keeping his libido on a leash was relatively simple and he told himself that Green Eyes was definitely not his type. Still, there had been something about her…
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
Draco placed a steadying hand on the arm of the young woman who had not so accidentally collided with him. Blonde and stunning, she was his type.
His smile was automatic and lacking a spontaneity that the recipient appeared not to notice. Standing on one foot, she had grabbed his arm for support. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s these heels.’
She rotated one shapely ankle, inviting him to look, and Draco, being polite, did.
‘I don’t know if you remember…?’ The eyelashes did some overtime and the pout was good but he’d seen better, he mused. Now, if Green Eyes ever decided to pout, those lips would have given her a natural advantage. ‘But we met at the charity gala last month.’
‘Of course,’ Draco lied. There had been many attractive women there and good manners plus boredom meant he had probably flirted with a few. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m pushed for time—’ His grimace was a product of impatience but the recipient chose to interpret it as regret.
‘Shame, but you’ve got my number and I’d love to take you up on that offer of dinner.’ Before Draco could even pretend to recall any such offer, let alone extend or retract it, the blonde suddenly stopped, her eyes widening at him as she waved her hand wildly at a figure about to cross the road.
‘Eve!’ she shrieked, forgetting the sexy purr.
Eve heaved a sigh and, pasting a smile on her face, turned without enthusiasm.
She had spotted them fifty yards back, hardly surprising as the couple who were standing at the entrance to the underground car park where she had left her car were drawing attention the way only beautiful people did. Eve had nothing against beautiful people in general—her best friend was one, after all. She didn’t even envy them their head-turning good looks because being the focus of attention everywhere you went was the stuff her nightmares were made of. It was just that this man…talk about bad luck…and talk about a stereotype!
It had been no shock to see him with the blonde—just a massive shock to bump into him again. As status symbols went, an underwear model on your arm was right up there with a big flash fuel-guzzling car, for alpha men like her father. But, to be perfectly fair, this man wasn’t her father and she was making judgements like this because…?
Because of the liquid ache low in her pelvis, because a man who had barely brushed her life had finally given her the faintest inkling of the sort of irrational attraction that her own mother must have experienced in order to make her forget the principles she had instilled in her own daughter and have an affair with a married man.
Keep it in proportion, Eve. It’s been a tough week and it isn’t over yet, she reminded herself as she averted her gaze from the long scarlet nails that were possessively stroking his sleeve.
Her heart was thudding so hard that she could hardly hear her response to the woman almost as famous for her rich and famous boyfriends as she was for her perfect body. If he was Sabrina’s latest that made him rich…well, that explained the arrogant air of smug assurance that really got under her skin and, as for famous, well…these days who wasn’t? Even she could type her name into a search engine and have pages appear.