Thia felt what was becoming a familiar quiver down the length of her spine at the sound of this man’s throaty laughter. As she also acknowledged that, for all this man unnerved her, she was actually enjoying herself—possibly for the first time since arriving in New York.
‘Are you cold?’
Thia had no chance to confirm or deny that she was before Lucien Steele removed his evening jacket and placed it about the bareness of her shoulders. It reached almost down to her knees and smelt of the freshness of those lemons as his warmth surrounded her, and of the more insidious and earthy smell of the man himself.
‘No, really—’
‘Leave it.’ Both his hands came down onto the shoulders of the jacket as she would have reached up and removed it.
Thia shivered anew as she felt the warmth of those long and elegant hands even through the material of his jacket. A shiver entirely due to the presence of this overwhelming man—also the reason for her earlier shiver—rather than any chill in the warm evening air...
His hands left her shoulders reluctantly as he moved to stand beside her once again, that pale gaze—silver?—once again intent on her face. The snug fit of his evening shirt revealed that his shoulders really were that wide, his chest muscled, his waist slender above lean hips and long legs; obviously Lucien Steele didn’t spend all of his days sitting in boardrooms and adding to his billions.
‘Why aren’t you having a good evening?’ he prompted softly.
Why? Because this visit to New York hadn’t turned out to be anything like Thia had imagined it would be. Because she had once again been brought to a party and then quickly abandoned by—well, Jonathan certainly wasn’t her boyfriend, but she had certainly thought of him as a friend. A friend who had disappeared with their hostess within minutes of their arrival, leaving her to the untender mercies of New York’s finest.
Latterly she wasn’t having a good evening because she was far too aware of the man standing beside her—of the way the warmth and seductive smell of Lucien Steele’s tailored jacket made her feel as if she was surrounded by the man himself.
And lastly because Thia had no idea how to deal with the unprecedented arousal now coursing through her body!
She gave a shrug. ‘I don’t enjoy parties like this one.’
‘Why not?’
She grimaced, taking care not to insult this man for a second time this evening. ‘It’s just a personal choice.’
He nodded. ‘And where do you fit in with this crowd? Are you an actress?’
‘Heavens, no!’
‘A wannabe?’
‘I beg your pardon...?’
He shrugged those impossibly wide shoulders. ‘Do you wannabe an actress?’
‘Oh, I see.’ Thia gave a rueful smile. ‘No, I have no interest in becoming an actress, either.’
‘A model?’
She snorted. ‘Hardly, when I’m only five feet two inches in my bare feet!’
‘You aren’t being very helpful, Cyn.’ There was an underlying impatience in that amused tone. Thia had seen far too much of the reaction of New York’s elite these past four days not to know they had absolutely no interest in cultivating the company of a student and a waitress. Lucien Steele would have no further interest in her, either, once he knew. Which might not be a bad thing...
Her chin rose determinedly. ‘I’m just a nobody on a visit to New York.’
Lucien totally disagreed with at least part of that statement. Cynthia Hammond was certainly somebody. Somebody—a woman—whose beauty and conversation he found just as intriguing as he had hoped he might...
She quirked dark brows. ‘I believe that’s your cue to politely excuse yourself?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘And why would I wish to do that?’
She shrugged her shoulders beneath his jacket. ‘It’s what everyone else I’ve met in New York has done once they realise I’m of use to them.’
Yes, Lucien could imagine, knowing New York society as well as he did, that its members would have felt no hesitation whatsoever in making their lack of interest known. ‘I believe I’ve already stated that I prefer not to be like everyone else.’
‘Ain’t that the truth? I mean—’ A delicious blush now coloured those pale ivory cheeks as she briefly closed her eyes before looking up at him apologetically. ‘I apologise once again. I’m really not having a good evening!’ She sighed.
He nodded. ‘Would you like to leave? We could go somewhere quiet and have a drink together?’
Cyn blinked those long lashes. ‘I beg your pardon...?’
Lucien gave a hard, humourless smile. ‘I hate parties like this one too.’
‘But you’re the guest of honour!’
He grimaced. ‘I especially hate parties where I’m the guest of honour.’
Thia looked up at him searchingly, not sure whether or not Lucien Steele was playing with her. Not sure why he was bothering, if that should be the case!
The steady regard of those pale eyes and the grimness of his expression told her that this was a man who rarely, if ever, played.
He was seriously asking her to leave the Carews’ party with him...
CHAPTER TWO
THIA GAVE A rueful shake of her head as she smiled. ‘That really wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Are you always this persistent?’ She frowned.
He seemed to give the idea some thought before answering. ‘When I want something badly enough, yes,’ he finally murmured, without apology.
The intensity in that silver gaze as he looked down at Thia told her all too clearly that right now Lucien Steele wanted her.
Badly.
Wickedly!
She repressed another shiver of awareness just at the thought of how those chiselled lips and strong hands might feel as they sought out all the secret dips and hollows of her body.
‘I really think it’s time I went back inside.’ She was slightly flustered as she slipped his jacket from about her shoulders and held it out to him. ‘Please take it,’ she urged when he made no effort to do so.
He looked down at her searchingly for several seconds before slowly taking the jacket and placing it dismissively over the balustrade in front of him—as if it hadn’t cost as much as Thia might earn in a year as a waitress including tips!
‘Cyn...’
He wasn’t even touching her, and yet he managed to hold her mesmerised just by the way he murmured his own unique name for her in that deeply seductive voice, sending more rivulets of awareness down Thia’s spine and causing a return of that tingling sensation in her breasts, accompanied by an unaccustomed warmth between her thighs.
‘Yes...?’ she answered breathlessly.
‘I really want you to leave with me.’
‘I can’t.’ She groaned in protest at the compulsion in the huskiness of his voice, sure that this man—a man who was not only sinfully handsome but rich as Creosus—rarely, if ever, asked for anything from anyone. He just took.
‘Why not?’
‘I just— What colour are your eyes, exactly...?’ Whatever colour they were, they held Thia captive by their sheer intensity!
He blinked