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Victoria
“There you are, Henrique.” Draped in a full-length fur coat, Helen Carrington stepped out from a darkened alcove.
“Helen,” Henry answered, his tone guarded.
“I thought you’d gotten lost, darling. It seems I was wrong,” she said, her keen eyes settling on Victoria.
“Hello, Ms. Carrington,” Victoria said, stunned to discover Henry and the wealthy tobacco heiress were on a first-name basis.
A cigarette clenched between her fingers, Helen stepped closer. She raised the cigarette to her lips, her cheeks hollowing as she took a long, slow drag. Lips parted, Helen leisurely exhaled, the clouds of fluffy white shrouding her as they whirled and billowed. “Rather chilly, isn’t it?”
Victoria flushed. It would be disastrous if the influential woman jumped to the wrong conclusion about her relationship with Henrique Santana. As an honorary member of the Newport Ladies’ Refurbishment Society, Helen Carrington’s support would almost guarantee the elimination of Santana Construction’s plan to rid Victoria of her land and her livelihood. “Your coat is lovely,” Victoria said, fidgeting with the lapels of Henry’s jacket. “It’s just what’s needed on a night like this. How silly of me not to wear one. Luckily, Mr. Santana was kind enough to offer me his jacket.”
The corners of Helen’s mouth turned into a wry smile. “Yes, he certainly is quite the gentleman.”
“I find it impossible to resist a damsel in distress,” Henry said.
“Are you having a nice time, Ms. Carrington?” Victoria asked, eager to change the subject. Anything, even the mating rituals of ants, would be a better topic than her involvement with Henry.
Helen gave Henry a sly glance. “I had planned to. Unfortunately, I was sadly mistaken.”
How could anyone not enjoy being surrounded by such splendor? It seemed impossible that anyone wouldn’t have fun tonight. “Did something bad happen?” Victoria questioned.
Helen released a throaty laugh. “Not nearly bad enough.”
Henry coughed. “Excuse me. It seems the cold is starting to affect my throat.”
Victoria glared at him then returned her focus to the other woman. “The Ladies’ Refurbishment Society has outdone themselves this year. The decorations were superb.”
“Ms. Hathaway, you must be frigid.” Henry grasped Victoria by the arm. “I’m sure you’re anxious to locate your vehicle,” he said, attempting to maneuver her from the portico.
Victoria gritted her teeth, ignoring the gentle pressure being applied to her arm. “We’re still talking,” she said under her breath.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Victoria. I’ll be sure to pass your compliment on to the board.” Helen snuffed her cigarette against the concrete. “Please do excuse me; as Henrique has pointed out, it’s positively freezing out here.”
“It’s been nice talking with you,” Victoria said.
“It’s been my pleasure.” Helen sauntered toward them, stopping to place one perfectly manicured hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I’m looking forward to discussing our future endeavor,” she said and then turned to walk away.
As soon as Helen was out of earshot, Victoria wrenched her arm free from Henry’s grasp. “What’s wrong with you?”
His eyes crinkled in the corners, looking highly amused by her anger. “Nothing is wrong with me.”
“You could have fooled me. You acted like a total jerk while I was trying to speak with Ms. Carrington.” She waved her arm in the air, her eyes rolling to the heavens as she shook her head. “I swear to God you’re about as mature as a five-year-old.”
“I simply thought that you’d be eager to locate your car. You should thank me. It is below freezing out here,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders as if that was any excuse for his abhorrent behavior.
“Thank you,” Victoria scoffed. “That is one sorry-ass excuse. You were way out of line, Mr. Santana. Your rudeness completely embarrassed me.”
The amusement faded from Henry’s expression, his voice growing somber. “That wasn’t my intention.”
A snort of disbelief spewed from Victoria’s lips. Shoving past him, she stomped down the portico’s steps and onto the gravel pathway. “Like hell it wasn’t. You’re bound and determined to destroy me.”
“I’m not out to destroy you,” Henry said, quickly matching his long-legged stride to hers. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Whatever.” One arm swinging by her side, she clutched the tuxedo jacket with her other hand, looking straight ahead.
Ouch!
Failing to notice the divot along the gravel path, her ankle turned, causing her knees to buckle. Unable to right herself, Victoria stumbled forward. Henry rushed toward her, his arms swooping around her waist to prevent her fall. He pulled her against him, his body enveloping hers. “Those shoes aren’t very practical,” he breathed against her ear, his stubble scraping the delicate flesh beneath her earlobe.
Heat and outrage ignited within her. Her body trembled with burning desire while her mind battled with outrage. “Of course, they aren’t practical. This is a gala, remember?”
Henry peered down at her. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be much of a man if I hadn’t noticed.”
Victoria craned her neck back and trembled as she met Henry’s lust-filled stare. Perfectly sculpted, like every other part of him, his lips curved into a devious smile. Get away now, she told herself. But he’s so solid, so firm, so strong and powerful.
“Those heels are quite remarkable. However, they pale in comparison to the beauty who wears them.”
And there it was—bullshit!
“You do have a way with words, Mr. Santana. Guaranteed to make all the girls swoon,” Victoria said, her momentary lapse in judgment quenched. She pushed against his chest, freeing herself from his embrace.
“I wouldn’t know. Girls are a waste of my time. I much prefer women,” he said.
“Older women?” Victoria blurted.
“Well, that all depends.” He smirked. “How old are you?
Victoria’s eyes narrowed on him, her fists clenching at her sides. “Really, Mr. Santana. I don’t have time for your games.” She spun around, her heels sinking between pieces of gravel as she hobbled down the pathway.
“Aww, come on, Ms. Hathaway,” Henry said, keeping step beside her. “It’s just friendly conversation between two young entrepreneurs.”
Silently seething, Victoria peered at him from the corner of her eye. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but if you must know, I’m thirty.”
“Then I absolutely have a thing for older women. Especially, blonde booksellers.”
“Harrumph.” Victoria limped beside him, the pain in her ankle increasing as she hastened her steps.
His lips quirked. “You move fast for an old lady.”
Ankle throbbing, she found it was too hard for her to maintain the quickened pace. “How old are you?” she huffed, slowing her gait.
“Twenty-eight,” he answered nonchalantly.
Victoria wobbled. He reached for her, locking an arm around her waist, and tugged her to his side. “Be careful now. I wouldn’t want you to break a bone.”
“You’re despicable. I’d be more concerned about Helen Carrington if I were you.”
Amusement laced his voice. “Why, Ms. Hathaway, I think you’re jealous.”
“Not on your life,” Victoria spat, unable to twist from his grasp.
Henry chuckled.
The audacity! It was asinine to believe she’d be able to have a civil conversation with the man. Victoria had more important things to do, like sleep, than spar with him. Suddenly an annoying sound assaulted her ears, interrupting her thoughts.
Whistling!
Henry strode beside her, an arm perched casually around her hip, appearing as if he didn’t have a care in the world—whistling.
Insufferable man! He was bound and determined to make her life difficult. If there was one thing that Victoria hated, one thing that grated on her nerves, it was whistling.
A multitude of stars shone brightly throughout the darkness, illuminating the now sparse parking area. Oh, thank God! She pointed to her Toyota. “There’s my car.”
“Judging by the hike from the mansion to your car, I’d say the gala raised quite a bit of money for the children’s hospital,” Henry said as they neared the desolate corner where her car was parked.
“It always does.” Victoria removed Henry’s jacket from around her shoulders, mourning its warmth. Goosebumps rose over her newly bare skin as she reluctantly held it out to him.
Without argument, Henry accepted the jacket from her outstretched hand, surprising her when he draped it back over her shoulders. “Keep it,” he said, drawing the lapels snuggly together across her chest. Victoria’s breath hitched, her nipples hardening into tight, pointy peaks as one of his fingertips skimmed the underside of her breast. “Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?” Henry asked, his voice low and deep.
Her pulse raced as adrenaline flooded throughout her body. “Th-there’s nothing sexy about me.”
Dark and intense, his eyes raked over her body. “Oh, Ms. Hathaway, you lie.”
“Uh-uh,” Victoria professed softly. “I never lie.”
“Such a good girl.” He inched closer, his large frame invading the boundaries of her personal space, making her feel small and weak.
“Don’t mock me,” she whispered. “I’m not a paragon of virtue. I simply believe in the golden rule.”
“Ah, I see,” Henry said, brushing a stray stand of hair behind her ear. “You treat those as you wish to be treated?”
“Among other things,” she answered, her chin jutting forward.
“And how do you like to be treated, Ms. Hathaway?” Henry asked, snaking his hand behind her neck. Kneading Victoria’s tight shoulders, he lowered his head, his nose nuzzling lightly over her neck. “Slow and steady? Gentle and soft? Or fast and hard?”
Victoria arched her neck to the side while her open palms splayed flat against his chest, his heart pounding with virility beneath her fingers.
A low groan erupted from deep within her as Henry’s lips ventured down her neck, painting featherlight kisses on their journey along her collarbone.
He moaned deeply. “Feels good?” Henry asked, his mouth moving to her earlobe before drawing it between his teeth.
Victoria sucked in a breath, pain mixing with pleasure as he nipped and sucked playfully at her earlobe. “Mm hmm,” she murmured.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” he rasped before continuing his journey in search of her mouth. His palm covered the base of her neck, moving to cradle the back of her head. Applying slight pressure, he drew her mouth closer to his.
Instinctively, Victoria’s lips parted, the juncture between her thighs growing wet.
Flicking his tongue out, Henry toyed with her lower lip, sucking at it greedily.
Victoria’s hands moved up to his broad shoulders, her arms winding tightly around Henry’s neck. “What are you waiting for?” Victoria asked. “Taste me,” she demanded, the words rushing from her mouth as Henry’s arms tightened around her, crushing her breasts against his chest. His mouth slammed down on hers. Their tongues flicked in and then out, each of them desperate with desire.
“Come home with me,” Henry panted, breaking the kiss.
“I can’t,” Victoria said breathlessly.
Intoxicating blue eyes bore into her. “You’re running.”
I have to go—now! This is dangerous. He is dangerous.
Pride stood in her way. She’d never allow him to think her a coward. Slowly, she shook her head. “I’m not running.”
“Then stay,” he challenged.
“It’s late,” she protested. “And in case you’ve forgotten, we’re enemies.”
“Excuses.” Henry brushed a finger over her bottom lip.
It took all of Victoria’s strength not to suck it into her mouth and feast on it.
“I dare you to defy the chemistry between us,” Henry continued. “Tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.”
Clamping her eyes shut, Victoria remained mute, willing herself not to get swept away in his blue abyss.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s a moot point. Nothing good will come of it.”
“This attraction has a life of its own. I don’t think either of us can stop it.”
Breathing deeply, Victoria stepped backward. “We don’t have a choice. We have to stop it.” Hating every minute of it, she removed the jacket and thrust it out to him.
Henry frowned. “Please, keep the jacket.”
It hung from her shaking fingers, dangling between them.
“Very well,” he said, his voice sounding defeated. He accepted the jacket from Victoria’s proffered hand, his fingers lingering momentarily over hers. Then he moved toward the Toyota, opening the driver’s side door.
Victoria lowered her body onto the driver’s seat, flinching as Henry promptly closed the door. Victoria’s mind waged war against her heart. Just one night. She hesitated before turning the key in the ignition. No. One night in Henry’s arms would never be enough.