Chapter Eight

Aiden couldn’t drag his eyes away from Melanie. Or more precisely, from the body she’d been hiding beneath tidy, functional clothes. The woman had curves. Incredible round, in and out curves that a man would have to be blind or dead not to appreciate. Unfortunately he hadn’t yet had a chance to see them, sorry her, close up. Since his arrival at the bash, the launch of some new fangled watch he was now wearing on his wrist – and apparently had to continue to wear even though he actually preferred his Rolex – their paths hadn’t crossed. But now the pictures had been taken, the hands shaken and the polite conversation over dinner accomplished.

Smiling his apologies to the women either side of him at the table, he headed across the room towards her.

‘Well, hello,’ he drawled as he came up behind her, smiling to himself as she visibly jumped. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with our press officer, Melanie Hunt?’

A rare blush crept up her slender neck. ‘Very funny.’ Her eyes scanned down her vivid purple dress and she grimaced. ‘Before you say anything, it wasn’t my choice. I got … sidearmed, I think is the right word for it, into wearing it.’

That explained it. ‘Let me guess, your choice was a neat black dress that not only covered your knees but possessed a neckline even your granny would have thought too staid?’

The noise she let out sounded like a laugh she’d tried to suppress but had snuck out anyway. ‘It might have been.’

‘Well, whoever browbeat you into wearing it deserves a medal. You look … stunning.’ And she really did. With her hair pinned loosely up on her head, a touch of make-up highlighting the depth of her eyes, diamond earrings dangling from her ears and the silk strappy dress draped around her spectacular curves, she looked a million dollars. Light years away from the fresh-faced press officer he thought he knew.

‘Actually it was Frank’s wife, Nancy, who made me wear this,’ Mel admitted, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was standing there with his tongue, at least metaphorically, hanging out. ‘She swears she bought it for herself and then realised it was a size too small. Personally, I don’t believe a word of it. I think she bought it for me. She’s always going on about the fact that I need to make the most of my figure and—’ Grinding to a halt, she raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Ouch, that was too much information. It’s not as if I have a great figure either, just that she thinks I could make more of what I’ve got.’ The sides of her lips curved up in an embarrassed grin. ‘And why am I talking to you about all this?’

Aiden laughed, enjoying watching her talk. Enjoying listening to her talk, too, even if it was about women’s clothing. ‘If you want my personal opinion, I’m on Nancy’s side. A woman’s figure should always be enhanced.’

His comment received a sharp jab in the ribs. ‘I knew you’d see it that way.’

‘Err, excuse me, what other way is there? Why would you not want to show off what you’ve got?’

‘Because it sends a certain …’ her voice trailed off and she shook her head, probably realising that trying to explain this to him was a lost cause. ‘It sends a signal, all right? One that says “hey, look at me, I’m a woman. Come and flirt with me, play with me a while and then dump me for a far more attractive model.”’ Her eyes widened in horror and she slapped a hand over her mouth. ‘God, I shouldn’t be saying this to you. I’ve had way too much champagne. Promise me you’ll forget I said any of that.’

As her blurted admission went a long way towards explaining why she dressed as she did – in disguise to protect herself from getting hurt again – he couldn’t see how he was supposed to forget it. And what the blazes was he supposed to say now, anyway?

He cleared his throat, which instantly made matters worse because now she was looking at him, expecting him to say something profound. ‘I … um … Frank told me that some bastard broke your heart.’

His stomach dropped as her face crumpled before him. ‘He did?’ The words came out as a high-pitched shriek. ‘Well, that’s just … that’s great. My humiliation is now complete.’

‘Hey, he didn’t give me any details.’ Aiden was desperate to reassure her. ‘He was only, you know, warning me off.’

Another noise came out of her throat, not quite the shriek of before. More a strangled cry. ‘Oh God, I was wrong. The humiliation just keeps on coming.’ Her eyes darted over his shoulder, then down to the floor and finally over to the bar. Anywhere, it seemed, but at him.

He clasped her arm and made her look at him. ‘Why is that humiliating for you? I’m the one who was being warned off.’

‘And you really need the warning, don’t you?’ She actually looked like she was going to cry. ‘Someone like you is really going to want to get together with someone like me.’

Because he definitely couldn’t handle tears he focused on her dismissive tone and the derision in her eyes. ‘What do you mean, someone like me?’

Taking a tissue out of the slim black bag she had on her shoulder, a far cry from her usual rucksack, she dabbed at her eyes. ‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’

‘I do?’

‘Yes. You know the type you go for.’ Reaching up she tugged hard on a wisp of her trailing hair, almost making him wince. ‘Blonde, not brown.’ She nodded down to her perfectly proportioned breasts. ‘Large, not average.’ When her hand went to point at her short but nicely shaped legs, he’d had enough.

‘Okay, I get the picture,’ he cut in, feeling more than a little insulted. ‘What you’re saying is that I go for dumb blondes with big boobs.’

‘Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?’

And okay, now he was put on the spot and having to think back through the women he’d dated over the last few years maybe she had a point. ‘It’s not a requirement that they’re dumb,’ he countered sulkily.

For a split second she just gaped at him. Then her mouth tilted upwards and she started to laugh. And laugh. And he, watching her face light up and her eyes shine, found he was laughing with her.

Mel couldn’t stop giggling. Some of it was down to inebriation, some to relief that they’d managed to move beyond the discussion about her pathetic love life and the bizarre fact that Frank had felt the need to warn Aiden to keep away from her. Most of her lightheadedness though came from watching Aiden let go and laugh. Really, really laugh. She didn’t think there was a more beautiful sight in this world.

‘I’m not sure how that conversation got so out of hand,’ he said finally, his eyes still dancing. ‘I only wanted to compliment you on how great you look.’

Simple words, but from his tongue they had the capacity to make her heart skip a beat. Time to remind herself he was only being charming, a product of those ingrained manners of his. This wasn’t the start of a flirtatious dance that would lead them into bed.

The thought sent heat shooting through her blood. Staring down at her feet she took a few deep breaths and tried to school her face into a more chaste expression. ‘In that case what I should have done is reply to your kind compliment with a simple, “why thank you.”’ Smiling sweetly she dipped her head, as she was sure they would have done in Austen’s day. ‘Are you having a pleasant evening?’

He gave her a dazzling smile. ‘Thank you, I am. Miss Hunt, will you do me the honour of allowing me this dance?’

Before she could stammer out a reply he was propelling her onto the dance floor. As he settled his arm casually around her waist, drawing her towards him when she would have left more space, she realised she’d never been this close to him. It made her giddy. The dancing might be gentle and sedate but the firm feel of his body against hers and the scent of his darkly masculine aftershave put her in a tailspin. She wasn’t a great dancer, lacking confidence, but he seemed to have enough for both of them.

In her high heels she came up to his shoulder and if she tilted her head slightly, she could see his profile. Straight nose, high cheekbones and firm, freshly shaven jawline. The hand she rested on his shoulder was only inches away from touching the dark hair that fell over his collar. In fact if she nudged her head a little, and stood on tiptoes, she could probably run her lips across his jawline …

‘Mel.’ She gave a guilty start as he dipped his head down to look at her. ‘Is it okay if I call you Mel? I’ve noticed sometimes you’re Melanie, other times Mel. I’m not sure what the criteria is, but I’d like to call you Mel.’

The sound of her nickname on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. It sounded dangerously intimate, implying a familiarity she wasn’t sure she could handle. ‘There aren’t many people who get away with calling me Mel. Only people I’m really close to.’

Was it her imagination or did his grey eyes just cool a little? ‘Fine. I’ll stick to Melanie. I was just being lazy.’ They danced in silence for a few minutes until Aiden’s arm tightened slightly on her waist and he pulled her more snugly against his lean frame. ‘What would you say if I told you I want to be one of those people who’s allowed to call you Mel.’ His voice lowered an octave and the husky tone sent further ripples through her already aroused body. ‘I want to get closer to you.’

She fought to keep from floating into perilous territory. ‘I’d remind you that I’m not your type.’

Warm breath fanned the sensitive lobe of her ear, his lips a whisper soft touch against her skin. ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

He’s playing with you, she reminded herself, fighting the rush of desire. Flirting is what he does. ‘Well, you’re definitely not my type,’ she countered, easing herself away from the heady feel of his hard body.

‘Oh?’ His expression tightened and something flickered in his eyes that she couldn’t read.

‘Physically you’re not bad,’ she conceded. ‘But I prefer my men with a little more emotional maturity.’ She smiled to take the edge off her words.

‘Is that your polite way of saying you want more from a man than hot sex?’ When she nodded, he sighed and ran a hand slowly down her back. ‘That’s a damn shame, because from how you’re making me feel right now, I reckon the sex between us could be really hot.’

Oh boy. She swallowed, trying to work some saliva back into her mouth. ‘Is that the magic Aiden Foster chat-up line? The one you use with all those big boobed blondes we talked about?’

The hand now resting on her lower back stilled and he exhaled sharply. ‘You’re determined to typecast me as a playboy, aren’t you?’

‘I rather think you’ve managed that all by yourself.’

Briefly his jaw tightened but then he laughed softly. ‘Fair enough.’ Pulling away he clasped her hand in his and led her away from the floor towards a secluded corner where he tilted her chin, his thumb gently caressing her jaw. His eyes insistently searching out hers. ‘I like your style, Ms Hunt, and right now I have this overwhelming need to kiss you. I can’t work out if that’s what you want, too, but as Frank will flatten me if he catches me even trying …’ Expelling a deep breath, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Perhaps we should change the subject.’

Mel’s heart thumped, rattling against her ribs. ‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that, too,’ she whispered. ‘It’s not a good idea though, for so many reasons,’ she forced herself to add, ‘so, yes, please, let’s talk about something else.’

When he said nothing, just continued to stare at her with hot, needy eyes, Mel blurted. ‘How do you feel about working with Frank, now you know he was also race engineer for your father?’

She might as well have thrown a bucket of ice cold water over him. In a flash the sexy heat in his eyes vanished, replaced by irritation. ‘That’s certainly one way to kill the mood, Melanie.’

His deliberate use of her full name jarred, feeling cold and formal when what she wanted was to return to warm and intimate. But that was too dangerous. ‘Mood killing was the general idea, though I’m interested in your answer nonetheless. A truthful one, that is.’

He gave her a sardonic smile. ‘I’m very happy to be working with Frank. If he was good enough for my father, then he’s certainly good enough for me, don’t you think?’

She’d attacked him where it hurt, and felt a surge of shame. ‘I shouldn’t have asked that. It was a low blow. I just … I knew that was one sure way to distract you from what we’d been discussing.’

‘It seems you were right.’ He smiled again though now his grey eyes were horribly flat. ‘It’s been a blast, dear Melanie, but all good things must come to an end. I guess I should earn my salary and do some mingling. I’ll catch you later.’

Mel huffed out a breath as she watched him being swallowed up by the crowd. Woman after woman slid over to him, taking his hand, whispering in his ear. Mel tried not to be hurt by the way he smiled back at them, occasionally laughed, always so attentive.

Perhaps he was doing his job, but it looked awfully similar to how he’d just flirted with her.

She was prevented from making any more painful comparisons when the phone in her small clutch bag began to ring. Frowning she peered at the screen, not recognising the number. ‘Hello, Melanie Hunt.’

A few minutes later she was pushing her way through the throng surrounding Aiden and tugging at his arm. ‘I’ve got the head of St Michael’s Boarding School on the phone. Apparently they’ve been trying to reach you all evening.’

He looked startled. ‘Me?’

‘That’s what they said. It’s about one of their students and they insist they need to speak to you.’ When he continued to gape at her, she pushed the phone into his hand. ‘They say it’s urgent.’

Giving her a I haven’t a clue what’s going on shrug, he made his apologies to the crowd surrounding him and strode out into the lobby.

For a split second Mel dithered about whether to follow him or not but as he had her phone she thought she should. By the time she caught up with him he was pacing up and down in a quiet corner. She didn’t want to eavesdrop but she couldn’t help hearing his side of the conversation.

‘Why aren’t you phoning his mother?’

‘I’m in London, for God’s sake. What on earth do you expect me to do?’

Finally, in a resigned voice. ‘Put him on the phone.’

Mel’s heart shot into her mouth. Did Aiden have a son he hadn’t told anybody about? And if he did, why had he looked so nonplussed when she’d told him who was on the phone?

‘What do you think you’re playing at, Tom? Your mother will have a fit when she hears you’ve tried to run away from school.’

Mel chewed her lip, wishing she hadn’t followed Aiden out. Wishing she hadn’t heard any of this very private conversation. It was none of her business if he had a secret son. None at all.

As Aiden dropped onto a nearby chair muttering, ‘It’s school, Tom. It’s not meant to be fun,’ Mel spun round and hastily made her way back into the ballroom.