Dressed to Thrill. Bella Frances

her little friend and was scanning the room.

      ‘Yes, Michael. Of course.’ She suddenly seemed a little tense. ‘I’ll just get you and Tara another drink—wait here.’

      Another drink? With Whiplash? He moved to cut that right out of the plan but his sister was off, and it struck him, as it suddenly did at times, just how much she was like their mother in the line of her cheek and the fall of her hair down her back. Such regal quality and such ambassadorial skill. She smoothed and shushed where he bulldozed, and they both knew it. And it worked.

      So what angle was she working now? Something was up.

      ‘Where’s Fern?’

      He turned to Tara. She glared at him with those huge blue-black eyes. And then shrugged her shoulders.

      ‘No idea.’

      She lifted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and knocked back a large gulp. Not quite the lady­like sips he was used to seeing in the women he dated.

      ‘Thirsty?’

      ‘Bored.’ She pointedly looked away, then knocked back another mouthful.

      ‘You should get out more.’

      She turned to face him. Set a scowl across her face and pursed her plump, pouty lips into an even more furious moue. ‘If it wasn’t for the company I’d be having a wonderful time.’

      ‘You would?’ She was so easy to snare. He smiled as her scowl deepened. ‘What’s wrong with the company, then?’

      ‘Isn’t it obvious? I can’t be the first person to call you on your appalling manners, surely?’

      ‘Actually, my manners are the least of your problems.’

      It wasn’t like him to be anything other than courteous to women. His mother had been pretty lax about most things, but charm came cheap—the problem was this one got under his skin like a heat rash, and he didn’t want to stop scratching.

      ‘Meaning…?’

      ‘You really have to ask?’

      She swilled what was left of the golden liquid in the narrow flute, and then tossed it back in one mouthful. He watched her throat constrict as she swallowed, half expecting her to wipe the back of her hand across her mouth like a saloon whore from a fifties Western. Ms Devine was anything but ladylike. And she was getting all fired up—maybe this was going to turn into an interesting party after all.

      ‘The only problem I can see is that you and your ego are still here. I can’t be the only one who’d much rather you and your dull suit and boots got yourselves the hell out of here.’

      Just as she hissed her little putdown another bunch of lovelies fluttered over. ‘Actually, I’m not so sure everyone sees it that way…’

      Far too young and, honestly, too far gone, but it was easy to let the charm drip as he kissed and complimented them. Tara stood to the side, pointedly looking away, then whipped out her phone. He watched her face change as her fingers scrolled the screen. She tucked it back in her little cube of a bag and seemed to brace herself. Interesting.

      She walked over to him. Slowly. Almost dragging her heels.

      ‘I’m going to get another drink—would you like one?’

      He cocked an eyebrow. He hadn’t been expecting that.

      ‘What happened there? Did you get a text alert to be more pleasant?’

      She smiled the fakest smile, but even though he knew she was forcing it, it was still a great smile. Her perfect mouth split to showcase white teeth that were perfect bar the front two, which sat at an offset angle to one another. Quirky. Cute.

      ‘No, I just thought we should grab a drink to loosen up while we wait. But if you’re too busy I quite understand.’ She nodded to the girls.

      ‘I’m loose enough, thanks—but don’t let me stop you. I’m going to chase up my sister. Time we left the party to those who still feel the need.’

      ‘Oh, come on. Just a little one? I’m sure Angelica will only be another minute.’

      ‘I’m sure she will too. But I think I’ve indulged her long enough.’

      ‘You see this as indulgence? People sharing some fun together?’ She swung out her arm, indicating the groups of people chatting, laughing, drinking, dancing.

      He’d seen so many similar scenes in so many corners of the globe. At one time in his life this was his life. But party fatigue had set in some years ago and the whole scene now left him cold.

      ‘It’s all relative. Fun for you and fun for me? Not compatible.’

      ‘You think? I bet we could find at least one thing we both enjoy.’

      He turned back from the throbbing crowd to face her. Let his eyes drag slowly over that intriguing face. Was she coming on to him—after being so hostile? Did she have a short-term memory problem or a personality disorder to add to the mix?

      ‘What did you have in mind?’

      On anyone else the slight colour that crept over her skin would have suggested a flush of shame, but on her it was lost in the assault to the senses of hair, make-up, outfit and attitude. She was like a caricature. But she had something. He couldn’t put his finger on it—yet. Maybe it was just attitude, or energy. Or overt sensuality. But he’d met a lot of women, for sure, and she did not fit neatly into any of his boxes. That didn’t mean that he wanted to hang out with her at this or any other party, but it might explain why Angelica had decided to add her to her Pandora’s box of friends.

      ‘What do I have in mind? It’s way too early in the night for me to tie myself down to anything specific.’

      He grinned at her. Couldn’t help it. ‘You’ve got an answer for everything, Ms Devine.’

      She grinned back, and this time it was natural. Like the sun coming out. Like there might be a natural beauty under all that make-up. That he’d like to see. But he was not going there. Yep, he was single, and until Fern was sorted—probably after Fern was sorted—single he’d stay. He could see no reason not to be. The only thing to be gained from adding emotion to sex was that it helped women to loosen up.

      Even when they knew in triplicate that he’d had elective emotional bypass surgery, they still thought that they’d be The One to reverse the procedure. Shame they couldn’t tune in to the notion that he liked himself better that way. No lies. No doubt. No guilt. Just sex. As and when he wanted. But not tonight. There was something about this one that lit up the warning signs in his head. And he was not in the business of ignoring warning signs. Not since he was sixteen.

      ‘Sadly it’s too late in the night for me to stay on and find out what you’ll tie yourself down to. Or tie yourself up with. I’m going to get the car, and Angelica, and leave you to your fun.’

      Though where his sister had got to was another problem. And one that was beginning to annoy him.

      ‘Anyway, I’m sure Angelica will catch up with you later. It’s been…interesting.’

      He leant a hand on her shoulder and leaned down for the obligatory goodbye cheek-kiss. He could smell product—perfume, hairspray, cosmetics. He touched smooth skin. He felt the swell of her fabulous rack press against him. He let his lips linger for a second too long to be strictly platonic. His fingers closed more tightly over her shoulder and he curled his other arm round her waist, drawing her closer into him. He felt a strong urge to grab her by the bottom and scoop her against him. Her body was soft and nestled perfectly, and he moved his lips to her other cheek. But her lips were in the way, so he placed his kiss there. Just one.

      She. Was. So. Hot.

      Her eyes, when he stepped back, flew open. They were searching. Almost innocent. And again he got the feeling that she was a better actress than she got credit for. Still, it wasn’t