The expression that flitted across her features was hard to define and gone in an instant. She dropped her hands from his body.
“I wouldn’t have thought someone so practiced would need to have his ego stroked,” she said with just the slightest hitch in her voice.
Roderick raised his eyebrows letting his enjoyment show. “Ah, but they do say practice makes perfect.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Uh-huh. If you find a way to market all that practice, you could be a wealthy man one day.”
He found himself wanting to tell her that he already was a wealthy man and it had nothing to do with his ability to kiss, but discretion stopped him in time. Before he could think of another suitable response, an inebriated man bumped into them. Roderick gripped her arms through the soft fur of the coat to steady her. The man muttered what was probably an apology and kept going. The fascinating young woman looked pointedly down at Roderick’s hand. Only then did he release his hold on the fur.
She took another step back and her gaze swiftly darted about the crowd before she trained those amazing eyes back on him.
“I have to leave. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you think you could walk me out?”
It hit him then. She was scared. Oh, she had it under tight control, but fear nipped at the edges of her features. Tension pleated her brow as her gaze slid about the room again.
What was she afraid of? Several possibilities came to mind. Intrigued, Roderick resisted an impulse to follow her gaze.
“Could we hurry?” she demanded breathlessly.
He allowed a quick glance around even as he amazed both of them by tugging her against his side. “All right. Let’s go.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you the coat back when we get out of here.”
Who was she? What was she doing here?
With his coat thrown over one arm, he held her firmly in place and began to escort her toward the nearby exit, still sheathed in Shereen’s sable fur. Since the music was still playing, it was unlikely that Shereen would miss him for the few minutes it would take to escort this woman down to the lobby.
She was so much shorter than Shereen that the fur trailed nearly to the floor. She had to move with care to avoid tripping over the hem, but somehow the coat failed to look ludicrous on her—even though it didn’t match her lighter brown hair.
No, not brown, but not quite auburn, either. There were appealing glimpses of red and gold highlights where the overhead chandeliers created glints among the long, curling strands. Most of her hair had been pulled back from her face to cascade down her back, but several strands had escaped, giving her a delightfully tousled look. She’d pulled the sides up and back, holding the hair in place with a simple iridescent green clip. Inexpensive plastic, he noted as she dodged around a crowd that blocked the main exit.
She didn’t belong here.
What was she doing in this room full of wealthy movers and shakers? Security was supposed to be tight at the hotel, although Roderick hadn’t been impressed with what he’d seen. He’d noted several ways a person could get inside without being stopped. Obviously, this woman had used one of them.
Unless she was here as a paid companion.
He found he didn’t like that disturbing thought, but he couldn’t stop chewing on the idea. It was the dress, of course. Too bold. Too bright. Too cheap.
No one stopped them as they left the crowded room. As far as Roderick could tell, no one was paying them any attention at all.
“Amorous boyfriend?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure she had heard him.
The mezzanine was filled with the overflow from the party. As the loud music faded, his nervous companion continued to dart glances at the crowd as they moved with subtle haste among the revelers. Her agitation was more palpable now. Roderick felt his own senses coming sharply alert. She moved briskly, taking two quick steps to every one of his longer strides. He sensed she was barely restraining a desire to break into a run.
“Would you like me to slow down?” he asked.
“No!”
“Stay cool,” he advised at this sharp reaction. “No one is watching us.”
She turned a fragile, heart-shaped face up to his in surprise. He had the distinct impression that on some level she’d all but dismissed his presence despite the arm he still had around her shoulders. Roderick could honestly say he wasn’t used to being dismissed by anyone, much less a woman he had just kissed. He tamped down an indignant spurt of annoyance. She’d asked for his help. The least she could do was show a little gratitude.
“Not the elevators,” she said impatiently, nudging him away from the press of people waiting before the slow-moving glass cages.
He didn’t blame her. He preferred the escalators himself, but probably not for the same reason. As he guided her through the throng, she lifted her face and offered him an unexpected smile.
“Thank you.”
Roderick inhaled sharply. She certainly wasn’t a beauty—nothing like Shereen. Her face was too narrow, her chin almost pointy, and those incredibly clear blue eyes were too wide, lending her face a quizzical look. But that smile of hers lit her features and changed everything. A man would overlook any number of flaws to see a smile like that.
“You’re welcome.”
She also had gorgeous skin. Shereen spent long hours in front of a mirror trying to achieve the natural, healthy glow that emanated from this slip of a woman. Roderick would bet half his considerable fortune that she had done nothing more to enhance her appearance than to apply lipstick and some eyeliner.
Most of the bright red lipstick had been chewed away, but a telltale hint remained. The thin line of eyeliner had smudged, adding to a waiflike appearance that was strangely appealing.
Because he found himself studying her so closely, he noticed the thin white line at her hairline. The scar was tiny, really. Easily overlooked since it disappeared into her carelessly styled long hair. Still, that jagged line of imperfection was a close match to a scar he carried. His jaw tightened as he remembered the cause of his scar and he wondered how she had come by hers.
“It isn’t every day a man has a chance to play Sir Galahad to a lady in distress,” he told her. Cynically, he had to admit he was sort of enjoying the role. But he couldn’t help wondering exactly what—or whom—he was rescuing her from.
“You’re doing a great job,” she told him, barely glancing up as her gaze continued to rove restlessly.
Roderick frowned. “Do you have a name?”
“Of course I do.”
As they stepped onto the descending escalator she hesitated, sending another quick look over her shoulder. Roderick turned back, as well. No one so much as glanced their way. As he withdrew his hand from her shoulder, he gave it a comforting pat. She raised dark sooty lashes to study him.
“Sorry. I do appreciate your help,” she told him earnestly.
Mollified, Roderick inclined his head politely, ignoring a renewed stirring of sexual interest. She wasn’t flirting or playing coy, which was just as well. She was not his type. Yet she intrigued him, and he’d have to give her high marks for her ability to think on her feet—not to mention that she didn’t seem the least bit unnerved by him or his size.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out.
“No, I didn’t.”
Obviously, she didn’t intend to identify herself or explain this desperate flight. Roderick’s gaze skated to her fingers. Like the rest of her, her hand was small and well shaped. The nails were cropped unfashionably short and