MADISON noticed him the moment he walked into the room.
Despite the fact that the hospital’s charity ball was heaving with people, all wearing Venetian masks—and he was dressed the same as all the other men in a dinner jacket, dark trousers, white shirt and bow-tie, plus a plain gold eye mask—there was something about the tall, dark-haired man that set him apart from the others. Some kind of energy that drew her eye.
Not that she was going to do anything about it. Not tonight.
As the chair of the committee for the hospital’s fundraiser ball, Madison Gregory had work to do. Such as making sure that everything was running like clockwork behind the scenes. Being there to troubleshoot any last-minute problems. Charming people with a sweet smile and fixing any little niggles without a fuss.
But so far any problems had been minor, because everything had been planned down to the last detail. There had been a few murmurs at first in committee meetings when she’d suggested a jazz trio—a band she’d heard several times at her favourite club—but Madison had stuck to her guns. In her view, a rock band really didn’t suit a masked ball, and although ballroom dancing had become popular again, thanks to TV shows, having a string quartet playing waltzes would have felt too formal. Whereas soft, easy-listening jazz—bright upbeat numbers and slow crooning ballads that people knew and could dance to—was perfect for a ball.
Now she could even see couples mouthing the words of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ to each other, smiling and laughing and just having fun on the dance floor. Relief flooded through her. She’d got it right. This was going to work.
With this lovely, warm, relaxed atmosphere, people would be more willing to be parted from their money. They’d buy loads of tickets for the tombola prizes she and the rest of the committee had talked local companies into donating—balloon rides, spa treatments and a chocolate hamper that her cousin and best friend Katrina desperately wanted to win and had bought so many tickets in lieu of being at the ball that Madison had decided, if Katrina didn’t win it, she’d buy her the very same hamper as consolation.
And maybe, just maybe, the fund for the new scanner would reach the halfway point as a result.
Eve, one of the senior nurses from the emergency department, came up to her. ‘Maddie, you’ve been rushing around since an hour before everything started. Why don’t you take a break?’
A little voice in Madison’s head added, And go and find out who the man in the gold eye mask is. She brushed it aside and smiled at Eve. ‘It’s OK. I’m fine.’
‘You paid for a ticket, too,’ Eve reminded her. ‘Which means you’re entitled to dance and have some fun. Just because you’re the chair of the organising committee, it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself.’
‘I am enjoying myself.’ And it was true: Madison loved being in the thick of things. She’d been hard put to choose between specialising in emergency medicine and her final choice, obstetrics, because she enjoyed the buzz of being too busy almost as much as she loved those magical first minutes of a new life.
And then, as the music changed and the pianist seemed to flow seamlessly into ‘It Had to be You’, a hand touched her arm. ‘May I?’ a deep, unfamiliar and slightly accented voice asked.
Even before she looked up, she knew who it was going to be, and a shiver ran down her spine.
The man in the gold mask.
He was looking at her with the most sensual, smouldering gaze she’d ever seen: dark eyes with a hint of green and gold and grey. Stunning.
Not to mention a slow, sweet smile that actually made her knees go weak.
‘I…’ Her throat dried, and Eve gave her a shove.
‘She means yes,’ Eve said sweetly. ‘Have fun.’
Before Madison could protest, she was dancing with the stranger.
Theo had been aware of her all evening: the girl in the floaty dress with the pink and gold cat mask covering her upper face and the most incredible smile. He’d seen her talking and laughing with plenty of people, though he hadn’t actually seen her on the dance floor.
And now he was dancing cheek to cheek with her. Whoever had chosen this music was an utter genius: it had neither the formality of ballroom dancing nor the slight distance of pop. This was old-fashioned dance music, the kind of stuff his grandparents loved—and, so he’d discovered recently, his mother had loved too.
Despite his dance partner’s high-heeled shoes, she wasn’t that tall and he had to dip his head slightly to dance with her, but she felt perfect in his arms. And those blue, blue eyes behind the mask were just stunning. Like a Mediterranean sky on a late summer evening, shading to dark navy at the very edges of her irises. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders—not perfectly straight, but not a riot of curls either. Soft, enticing waves that made him want to tangle his hands in them, feel the silkiness against his fingertips.
Even more than that, he wanted to see her hair spread over his pillow. And he really, really wanted to explore that beautiful mouth. Tease it with kisses until it opened beneath his mouth, letting him deepen the kiss.
Kyrios. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt a pull of attraction this strong.
But right now she was in his arms, holding him close. And it felt good.
The stranger’s touch was perfectly decorous, Madison thought. And yet somehow it felt personal—intimate, even. They were dancing close enough for her to feel his breathing, hear his heartbeat. And he had a perfect sense of rhythm, guiding her round the floor so effortlessly that it actually felt like floating. She’d never been so in tune with a dance partner before.
They didn’t speak as they danced—they didn’t need to—and suddenly everyone around them just melted away. They could have been dancing on a little terrace overlooking a garden in Tuscany, just the two of them, in the moonlight…
She shook herself. Of course not. This was London. And if it wasn’t for the fact that she’d deliberately stuck to sparkling water because she was responsible for the way things ran tonight, she would’ve been sure this heady feeling was from drinking too much champagne—almost like tiny bubbles fizzing through her veins.
The fact it was all from dancing with him scared her and excited her at the same time. She’d never reacted this strongly to anyone before. Even Harry.
Part of her wanted to ask the stranger what his name was, but she knew that talking would break the spell. And right now she didn’t want it to end. Just the two of them and the music, the singer crooning and the soft jazzy piano counterpointed by the double bass and guitar.
Two and a half minutes had never passed so slowly.
Or so very, very fast.
When the song ended and his hands dropped from her body and he took a step backwards, it felt so wrong.
And then he bowed to her, lifted her right hand and kissed the pulse on the inside of her wrist.
She could barely breathe.
His eyes—dark and as sexy as hell—held hers. ‘Thank you.’
Again, that slight accent. She couldn’t quite place it, but it was incredibly attractive.
Just as her mouth started to frame a response, an introduction, a question, a different pair of arms caught her round the waist. ‘Maddie! Here’s my girl.’ She found herself spun into a hug. Into arms she recognised—Ed, the registrar in the emergency department she’d dated a couple of times, a month or so back.
Oh, help.
Ed was beaming. A champagne-induced sort of beaming, and he’d clearly forgotten that they’d agreed to