“I know,” I said, her hair still twisted in my fist. “And you liked it. Now, have you got any more questions about how I am in bed?”
She gulped. A touch of nervousness seemed to flicker across her eyes. “Not at the moment.” She blinked and seemed to rearrange her features as I let go of her hair, smoothing it out as it fell along her neck. “So tell me, Mr. Green Tie, what did you learn about me when you went hunting for information?”
I learned she shared DNA with the lead detective reinvestigating my father’s murder. But that wasn’t exactly information that needed to be served up as small talk. “I learned you know everyone here, and can convince anyone to contribute to a worthy cause. Lots of money. Insane amounts.”
She pursed her lips together. “That does sound like one of my skills,” she said playfully.
“I learned you do it because you can. Because you made your mint already and now you give back.”
“True, true. Does that bother you?”
“That you made a mint?”
She nodded. “Yes. That can intimidate some men. When a woman is successful.”
I scoffed. “I’m not easily intimidated. And I happen to think successful women are”—I moved in closer, my lips daringly close to hers—“incredibly alluring.” I skimmed my hand from her shoulder down her arm, unable to resist touching her. “But that’s what I learned from your bio, Sophie. I know other things about you, just from these last ten minutes.”
“What do you know?” she asked as the singer began a new tune and the purple lights swooshed across the dance floor.
I ran a fingertip along her wrist, her chest rising as she drew in a quick breath. “That you like being touched.”
She nodded. “If a man knows how.”
“That you like to play games.”
She frowned. “You make that sound bad.”
“Games aren’t bad.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I bet you like to play pretend. Make believe. Role-play.”
“I have an idea,” she said with a purr, as she roped her hands around my neck and trailed her fingertips across the back of it, her touch a jolt of pleasure. “We could pretend, say, that we just met and I’m curious about the man who has been in my thoughts. So, since you know what occupied my time in college, why don’t you tell me what occupied yours?”
That was easy. I could tell her my college major without giving up too much. “History.”
“Why history?”
“I like to understand what motivates people. Why they do what they do.”
“And did you learn what motivates people?”
“Usually it’s a desire for property or money.”
She smiled ruefully. “Sounds about right. What about sports? Did you play sports?”
“Yes. Hockey. Right-wing.”
“Did you cause fights?” she asked, curiosity dripping from her voice.
I shook my head, my lips in a smirk, proud to be able to say no. “I was the one who stopped the fights.”
Her eyes widened. “Interesting. Why is that?”
“I like to be in control.”
She inched her hands up toward my hair, and I grasped her wrists and returned them to my shoulders. “What line of business are you in?” she asked.
“Security.”
“What do you do in security? Watch over banks? Guard the mall?” she asked with lightness in her tone.
I laughed and shook my head. “No. I run a security company.”
“Do you love it?”
“I do. It’s exactly what I want to be doing.”
She danced her fingers down the front of my shirt. “I find men who know what they want a turn-on, more so than what they do.”
“I know what I want.”
“You do. You want me.”
“So fucking much,” I growled. I tugged her in closer, aligning my body to hers, letting her feel how much I wanted her already. A sexy sigh escaped her lips as I brought her near to me. She fit in my arms perfectly. Like that, we danced and moved under the dim lights to the next few songs, chatting about Vegas and the event and the silent auction, as I asked her questions about the gala and the hospital it benefited.
“See? You are a gentleman. Asking a woman questions. Getting to know her,” she said, then touched a lock of my hair that had fallen on my forehead. I caught her arm, my fingers wrapping tightly around her flesh. I bent my head and brushed my lips against her wrist.
Our first kiss, and I was nowhere near her lips. But the skin of her arm had that same sultry, sexy scent as her neck. I let my lips linger on her wrist, then let go. “You taste fantastic,” I said, holding her eyes, letting my meaning register.
“Do I?”
“Yes. You do. I bet you taste delicious everywhere.”
She waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s getting awfully hot out here. I’m afraid I might combust if we stay on the dance floor like this.” She tipped her head to the bar. “Drink?”
I nodded and pressed my lips briefly to her neck, dusting a kiss on her collarbone. A soft moan floated to my ears. I was going to have a field day with Sophie Winston. She was a dream—every touch, every taste and she murmured, she sighed, she moaned.
I hadn’t even properly kissed her yet.
We threaded our way to the bar, where I asked for two champagnes. As I reached for the flutes, a woman in a high-necked maroon dress and a severe bun zeroed in on Sophie, commanding her focus to ask her opinion on how the children’s wing should be decorated. Sophie encouraged her to call her that week to discuss. As that woman finished, another darted in, declaring that she knew a building contractor, and she could up her donation if that would help secure the contract. Sophie was gracious with all of them, but after a few minutes, she tossed me a save me glance.
I stepped in next to her, handed her a glass of champagne, and flashed a smile at the two ladies. “I hope you’ll forgive me for interrupting, but I have to leave shortly, since I’ve been called to the hospital to do an unplanned surgery.”
The woman in maroon shot me a curious look. “Oh, you’re a surgeon?”
I nodded. “I am. And I need two minutes with our Sophie before I have to go perform a bone graft.”
The other woman eyed my champagne. I quickly thrust it at her. “Please. Take this from me. I can’t drink on surgery nights, of course. I don’t even know why the bartender gave it to me. But I hate to be rude,” I said, shaking my head as if I couldn’t bear the thought of turning down the man tending bar.
“Of course you don’t want to be rude. You’re a respected surgeon,” the second woman said in a dramatic voice.
“And we don’t want to be rude either,” the maroon woman added. “Please. Go on. We don’t want to keep you from your bone graft.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, and turned to leave, the beautiful bombshell by my side, her lips pressed together so she wouldn’t laugh.
“Bone graft?” she whispered out of the side of her mouth as we walked off.
“I suppose bones, and the hardness of them, must be on my mind.” Then I shrugged. “Besides, I needed to come up with something, or we’d never have a moment alone.”