Bonded by Blood. Laurie London

are never to go on the floor. It encourages money to fly out.”

      His faux pained look told her that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Who told you that?”

      What an asshole. “My mother.”

      “And you believe it?”

      She gritted her teeth. “It’s a habit, okay. Is that better?”

      “Well, here, let me set it on the empty chair beside me, then. We certainly don’t want anything flying out of your purse unexpectedly.”

      Oh my God. Even though she was irritated, she almost snorted out loud and had to bite her lip to keep quiet. If only he knew about the panties tucked inside.

      “Fine.” Without looking at him, she held out her purse and hoped she came across as indifferent, bored and completely disinterested. She couldn’t care less that he was sitting just inches away from her, that she could feel the heat of his stare on her back and neck, that he was so damn hot. No, she didn’t care at all.

      “Did you find any interesting silent auction items?” She directed her attention to the woman sitting across from her. As she replied, Mackenzie found her mind wandering.

      You want me, the imaginary voice whispered melodically in her ear, almost as much as I want you.

      She stiffened her spine and popped a roasted vegetable into her mouth. What was it with that damned voice in her head? Her stupid wishful thinking. Who cared that she found Dom massively attractive? That she longed to feel his hand sliding along her skin again. His lips against her throat. What the hell was wrong with her? Yes, he was gorgeous, but—

      She glanced at him again. He twirled a few strands of pasta on his fork and lifted it to his mouth. As his lips closed over the utensil, he looked up at her and their eyes locked. His jaw flexed as he chewed slowly, then swallowed, never dropping his gaze from her face.

      The fluttering of her heart belied her cool exterior.

      Too much wine. She pushed the glass away to reach for her water, but the base of the stemware caught on a fold of the tablecloth and slipped from her fingers. In an instant, Dom’s hand was there and caught the glass before a drop was spilled.

       How did he move so fast? I’ve had way too much to drink.

      “Finished?”

      She nodded her head. With a lift of his brow, he held the wineglass in front of him in a silent toast.

      To the most enticingly beautiful female I’ve ever met, the imaginary voice spoke in her head.

       To the most infuriating male.

      She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch just before he took a sip from her glass, which really made no sense. Better switch to water only.

      When the live auction started, the energy in the room ratcheted up. As the auctioneer called out dollar amounts in a dizzying frenzy, people laughed and shrieked, urging the bidding higher and higher. Mackenzie’s head began to swim with too much wine and thoughts of the exorbitant amounts of money people were spending.

      After excusing herself, she skirted around the tables, a little wobbly on her heels, and headed to the ladies’ room. She dampened a hand cloth with cool water and held it to her neck and wrists. She leaned against the basin and waited until the cloth was no longer cold. Although refreshed, she still felt a little light-headed. A glance in the mirror showed she needed lipstick, but she’d left that damn little purse back at the table. Hopefully Martin was keeping an eye on it, because she really needed some fresh air. She straightened her dress, smoothed her hair and left the restroom.

      THE AUCTIONEER’S SING-SONG voice clipped along at a rapid pace, barking out increasingly higher dollar amounts, and with every lift of a bidder’s paddle, the crowd whooped even louder.

      Dom kept an eye on the archway leading toward the restrooms and the rooftop terrace and sensed Mackenzie wasn’t far away.

      “Sold to number one-ninety-three.”

      While the next item was being readied, Dom leaned toward Martin and casually slipped his leather coat over Mackenzie’s evening bag on the chair beside him.

      “So tell me about your painting, Martin. It’s her, isn’t it?”

      Before he could reply, two burly men in tuxedos lifted the nude painting up at the front of the room so that everyone could see, and the auctioneer began to read the description. Martin stood up as the spotlight trained on him and when he bowed to the applause, Dom reached a hand under his coat and opened Mackenzie’s purse.

      Quickly locating the damaged phone, his hand touched upon a silky piece of fabric. She didn’t seem like a handkerchief sort of woman, so he peered under the coat. Sweet Jesus. A pair of dark purple lace panties were wrapped around his phone. His cock shifted against his thigh for the millionth time tonight. So that was what she’d meant when he detected her thoughts about panties. He rubbed his fingers briefly against the lace before he snapped the purse shut, tucked the phone away and discreetly rearranged himself. Again. She wasn’t planning on going home with one of these bozos, was she? His pupils dilated and he ran a finger under the suddenly tight collar of his shirt.

      “How did you know?” Martin sat down as the bidding started. “Did she tell you? Or did Mrs. Thorn-Steuben?”

      “Who? No. Those sweeping, graceful lines of the composition could only belong to her. Although your piece is gorgeous and you’re quite talented, it’s not even a fraction as beautiful as the real thing.”

      Several people around the room raised their bidders’ paddles as the tempo of the auctioneer’s calls increased, and Dom glanced around. A horse-faced letch with oversized teeth, a slovenly old man with a blond trophy wife, a barely-out-of-puberty dot-com geek. Damn if he was going to let anyone else have that painting.