The Hot-Headed Virgin. Trish Morey

never actually been in love?’

      ‘Um…no…’ She shifted her gaze. ‘I’ve had a few close calls but nothing very serious.’

      ‘Have you lived with anyone before?’

      ‘No…’

      ‘Been engaged before?’

      She rolled her eyes at him. ‘No, of course not. In case it has escaped your notice, most women these days prefer to be in love with the man they’ve agreed to marry.’

      He gave her a thoughtful look that seemed to go on and on for endless seconds, his dark blue eyes steady on hers.

      Mia began to brace herself for his next question. Here it comes, she thought.

      The big one.

      Have You Slept With Anyone Before?

      ‘I think you’ll enjoy the rest of the evening,’ he finally said. ‘Do you like dancing?’

      It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting and it took her a moment to register what he’d asked. ‘Oh, yes…I love dancing…’

      Bryn glanced down at her when she wasn’t looking his way. She had dressed beautifully for the evening, the clinging black satin showing off every toned curve of her slight frame. Her bright and intelligent grey eyes were highlighted by a smoky eye-shadow and eyeliner and her soft mouth glistened with a camellia-pink lip-gloss.

      There was an ingenuous air about her he found incredibly alluring. So many women he’d been involved with in the past had been so street-smart and worldly he’d found it grating after a while. He knew his money and status had been the draw card in such relationships, but Mia had no interest in him either as a person or for what he could give her in terms of money or prestige. She was with him under sufferance and he knew as soon as they were alone again she would take the very first opportunity to remind him of it.

      His gut gave a tiny twinge of guilt as he thought of the conversation he’d had with his great-aunt earlier that evening. He’d hated lying to the one person who had stood by him all of his life, but it had been worth it to see the sheer joy on her pain-ravaged face as he’d confirmed his engagement. He wasn’t sure if she would believe him at first but somehow she had. He’d told her as soon as he’d met Mia he’d found the woman of his dreams. It was after all more or less the truth. Mia Forrester was exactly the stuff male dreams were made of.

      ‘Oh, my darling boy!’ Agnes had clutched his hand in both of her frail ones in delight. ‘I’m so pleased. At first I thought it must have been a publicity stunt or a way to get me to change my will. I know you weren’t happy about my conditions but I couldn’t risk you throwing yourself away on someone who was only after you for your money. And, besides, your parents wouldn’t have wanted you to be this bitter for so long.’

      Bryn inwardly grimaced at the thought of how his great-aunt’s will was written. It was a lot of money, not that he needed it personally, of course, but he wasn’t going to stand by and see the person responsible for his parents’ death inherit the lot. That was taking forgiveness way too far.

      ‘You’re exactly like your father,’ his great-aunt continued. ‘He fell in love with your mother the very first time he met her. It was so romantic.’ She gave a heartfelt sigh and added, ‘I have dreamed of this moment. I have wanted this for you for so long, for you to settle down with a nice girl instead of those money-hungry ones you usually date. I heard her on the radio with you this afternoon—she sounds so sweet. When can I meet her?’

      ‘I’ll bring her to see you tomorrow,’ he found himself promising, hoping his acting fiancée would agree to it.

      ‘That would be wonderful; I can hardly wait to see her. I’m sure she’s absolutely perfect for you.’

      Bryn bent down and kissed her papery cheek as he made to leave. ‘Yes,’ he said, a funny flutter coming and going in his chest as he brought Mia Forrester’s feisty little heart-shaped face to mind. ‘She is perfect. Absolutely perfect.’

      The first course was being served as they came back into the ballroom. Mia sat down with considerable relief when Bryn’s arm slipped from around her shoulders as he turned to speak to the person on his right. Having him so physically close was deeply unsettling, for ever since he’d kissed her that afternoon her awareness of him had lifted to an almost intolerable level. All her senses were finely tuned to pick up on his every movement or gesture. When she turned her head towards her left shoulder she could even smell his cologne on her skin where his arm had lain. She knew she’d have to get used to having him touch her in public but each time he did so she felt as if another part of her was being made more vulnerable to him.

      She reached for her wine glass and felt his leg brush against hers. She tried to edge away but his hand came down on the middle of her thigh. The weight of his fingers felt like a scorch through the thin fabric of her gown. And her heart began to pick up its pace when he turned to speak to her, his dark blue eyes steady on hers.

      ‘Everything all right, sweetheart?’

      ‘F-fine…just fine…’ She moistened her lips and forced herself not to flinch away when his hand moved upwards a fraction.

      He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, ‘Relax.’

      ‘I am relaxed.’

      ‘No, you’re not. You’re as tense as a trip-wire.’

      ‘Only because your hand is where it shouldn’t be,’ she said, smiling inanely as someone took their photo.

      ‘I’m your fiancé. I’m supposed to touch you.’

      ‘In public—yes.’

      ‘This is in public. In fact, it couldn’t be more public. There are at least five hundred people in this room.’

      ‘It’s not public under the table,’ Mia pointed out tightly.

      He gave her a lazy smile and took his hand off her thigh to place it on the nape of her neck, his long, warm fingers toying with the silky tendrils of her hair. ‘Is that better?’

      A shiver of reaction passed right through her from the top of her head to her toes. She forced herself to maintain eye contact, knowing that people were watching, but it was increasingly difficult to disguise her reaction to him. She hoped he would assume she was simply acting but something about his smile suggested he was well aware of the effect he was having on her.

      ‘Let’s dance,’ he suggested after a little silence.

      Mia was glad of an excuse to move out of his embrace, but it wasn’t until she was on the dance floor with his arms pulling her into his rock-hard body that she realised she had just stepped out of a sizzling frying-pan and straight into the leaping flames of a fire she had no hope of controlling.

      There wasn’t even room for air between their bodies as he turned her into a quick-stepping waltz. She was pressed to him from chest to thigh, the thin, close-fitting fabric of her gown no barrier to the searing heat of his body. Her breasts were pushed up against him and he took full advantage of it by dipping his gaze over their creamy curves.

      Mia felt her skin tingle from the burning heat in his eyes, and her stomach did a nervous little flip turn when she felt the unmistakable evidence of his growing erection against her belly.

      ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…’ she said, trying not to blush but knowing she was failing miserably.

      ‘Why?’ He skilfully turned her in his arms and brought her even closer. ‘I’m enjoying myself.’

      She gave him a caustic look while her back was turned to the tables. ‘No doubt you are but let me tell you I am not.’

      ‘I thought you said you liked dancing?’

      ‘This is not dancing, this is making out in front of an audience!’ she hissed back.

      ‘You want to go somewhere more private?’