The Platinum Collection: A Diamond Deal. Susan Stephens

but happy times,’ Roman guessed.

      ‘Yeah...’ She grew thoughtful, remembering that was before the mine had started failing and their father had turned to drink.

      ‘You okay, Eva?’

      Roman was frowning. She refocused, realising he was concerned. To be truthful, she wasn’t sure if she was okay or not. A sense of loss had just hit her like a sledgehammer. Perhaps that was because the families here had made her realise she couldn’t keep living in the past, and the way she was heading she would never build a future.

      She was let off the hook again by more people stopping by to talk to Roman. Laughing sloe-eyed signorinas flirted with him, while ridiculously good-looking men slapped him on the back. He had a good word for everyone—until one of the young men asked her to dance. For a moment she thought he might explode, but then he pulled back and shrugged as if to say, Good luck to you.

      Good luck to her, or to the young man? Either way, having Roman’s stare on her back as she moved onto the dance floor was disconcerting, to say the least.

      She was tense, but the youth kept a sensible distance between them. In deference to Roman, she suspected as he threw a glance through a gap in the crowd on the dance floor as if to reassure the count that he was taking good care of his companion. Roman was at the bar with friends, but every now and then she could still feel his stare. The youth was giving knowing glances to his friends as if to say: Have you seen who I’m dancing with? Yes. That’s right. The girl who came to the party with the count. So at worst she was a nuisance, and at best she was a meaningless trophy to a boy who hardly needed to shave.

      Perfect.

      And just an hour or so ago she had imagined she would be the wallflower while Roman and his friends had fun. The irony of it was, she was having a good time with great people, while the one person she wanted to spend time with couldn’t give a damn.

      * * *

      His blood was racing through his veins, pounding in his temple, threatening to provoke him into the type of action he abhorred at weddings. Initially, he had been glad when one of the village youths—a polite lad from a good family well known to him—had invited Eva onto the dance floor. He had tried telling himself that he deserved a break from the redhead, and that he had done his duty by her. And, as they had agreed, now she was here there was no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy the party. But he had not expected to feel like this—as if he couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight for one second, or that he had to keep on checking where the boy’s hands were. A mere matter of millimetres could turn him from heated into a raging bull. Making his excuses, he left his friends.

      * * *

      She was enjoying herself—having a wonderful time, Eva told herself firmly. Why wouldn’t she when she was dancing with her feet in the surf on a sugar-sand beach? The youth was polite enough. She couldn’t fault him. Even the fact that he was only dancing with her to impress his friends didn’t help. Nothing helped.

      She tried again. This. Was Great. Dancing in the moonlight on an exotic beach? What could be better?

      Dancing with Roman.

      She glanced at the bar, wondering where he was, and had to remind herself that they weren’t really a couple. They weren’t a couple at all. He had no claim on her. She had no claim on him. And she didn’t want to appear rude. Everyone was being so kind to her at the party, even this enthusiastic youth. She owed it to him to finish the dance. But why did she feel as if everything had gone flat? The setting was incredible. The sky was a piece of black velvet studded with diamond stars with just enough scudding pewter clouds to add some drama. The music was beguiling, and the scent of food was making her mouth water...

      ‘That food smells wonderful.’ She politely removed herself from the young man’s arms. ‘I’m absolutely starving, aren’t you?’

      ‘Would you like me to get you something to eat, signorina?’

      ‘Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t want to keep you from your friends.’

      The youth was off like a hare from the traps. Eva smiled ruefully, knowing she was just a game to him. She was just a game to Roman too... She looked around, trying to find him, and came up blank. Never mind, she’d get something to eat. Chefs in tall white hats had been working tirelessly on several barbecues all night. She chose a giant-sized baguette with all the trimmings, and it was only when she bit into it that she realised how hungry she was. When had she last eaten?

      ‘I see you’ve finished dancing.’

      ‘Roman? Sorry...’ She swung around and almost choked. ‘You startled me.’

      ‘So I see. You’d better wash that down,’ he said as he offered her an ice-cold misted bottle.

      The sharp tang of homemade lemonade made her cough and splutter even more. This was hardly the role she had written for herself back in Skavanga—the role featuring a confident heroine who knew exactly what her mission was, and how to achieve success. In that version of events she would be forthright and concise. She would be dignified and compelling. She would not be choking on a sausage sandwich.

      She tried hard not to notice that Roman was barefoot with his chinos rolled up, or that he had the most incredibly powerful calves. He’d been wading in the surf, judging by the spray covering his clothes. And she was paying him a great deal too much attention. And in all the wrong places, she realised, lifting her chin to meet his mocking gaze.

      ‘I hope you’re having a good time?’ His face was deeply shadowed as he asked the question.

      How could she not? She would have to be wood from the neck up not to lap up this sort of encounter. It was scary. It was exciting. It was so much more than she had ever dreamed it could be. Moonlight made everyone more mysterious, and Roman Quisvada by moonlight was a mystery like no other.

      ‘It can’t be easy for you when you don’t know anyone here, Eva.’

      ‘But everyone I’ve met has been so friendly.’

      ‘So I’ve noticed.’ He glanced around as if to convince himself that the youth had gone. ‘Handkerchief?’ he suggested.

      She had been trying surreptitiously to lick her lips while he was distracted. ‘Thank you...’

      ‘I apologise for leaving you to your own devices for so long.’

      ‘You don’t need to apologise. I was extremely well looked after.’

      He didn’t like that any more than she liked Roman monitoring her behaviour at the party. But under the circumstances wasn’t it better to call a truce? ‘It’s a very good party. Thank you for inviting me.’

      ‘I didn’t have much option.’

      ‘And neither did I,’ she fired back, lifting her chin to confront him.

      Who knew what Roman was thinking? There was calculation and even a little humour in his gaze, as if he knew something she didn’t. Time to go, she reasoned, but then he broke the standoff between them with a laugh, and the night breeze chose that same moment to ruffle his thick black hair. As he raked it roughly into place she was mesmerised.

      ‘The party isn’t over yet, Eva. I take it you didn’t find a room for the night?’

      She silently thanked the shadows for hiding her burning cheeks. She hadn’t even thought to ask.

      ‘That’s all right,’ Roman soothed as if he had known all along she would forget. ‘You’ll stay with me. I haven’t changed my mind.’

      But she had. It would be crazy to stay with him. She had so many fantasies rampaging through her head, but if he touched her. If he—

      ‘Don’t look so worried, Eva. All I’m offering is a bed for the night.’

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘What else would you be offering?’

      Her voice might be dismissive, but she was disappointed.