The Billionaire's Virgin Temptation. Michelle Conder

the results.

      ‘So I said, listen, doll-face.’ The guy who had jostled her spoke behind her with an over-the-top drawl. ‘You want it, you know where to find it. On your knees.’

      His companions guffawed as if they were smug private school boys at a secret frat party instead of a posh event. Ruby rolled her eyes. Boys masquerading as men, she thought, half listening as they traded stories about their sexual exploits that were clearly too far-fetched to be believed.

      ‘Wait till you hear this one,’ one of them said in a low voice. ‘The other night Michael picked up this girl and get this—’ the wag paused for effect ‘—he says he kissed her and didn’t even realise it was his ex until she slapped his face and told him they’d broken up six months earlier. Apparently she’d changed her hairstyle and got implants.’

      ‘God, I wish I had his life,’ a nasally voice whined. ‘He’s an animal.’

      Before she could give them a snarky look another voice interceded, a deep, velvet-coated voice she’d listened to all evening one long-ago night.

      ‘He’s an idiot,’ he said. ‘No man forgets a woman he’s kissed. At least he doesn’t if he has any integrity.’

      Ruby’s heartbeat doubled and her skin turned pasty beneath her heavy make-up. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t!

      ‘What can I get you, ma’am?’

      Startled by the question, Ruby stared blankly at the bartender.

      ‘To drink,’ he offered, gesturing to the vast array of colourful bottles on the marble shelf behind him.

      ‘Sorry.’ Ruby cleared her throat and forced herself to relax. ‘I’ll have...’ She frowned, trying to remember what Molly and her friend had asked for. ‘I’ll have two Cosmopolitans and a white wine.’

      ‘Riesling? Chardonnay? Chab—?’

      ‘Whatever’s strongest,’ Ruby cut in. And make it fast, please. Her palms were sweaty and she clasped them together, willing herself not to turn around to check who owned that all too sexy voice.

      Fortunately she didn’t hear it again and when the bartender finally returned with her order she threw him a relieved smile and grabbed her drinks.

      Keeping her head down, she turned and would have run smack into the side of one of the men if a masculine hand hadn’t shot out in front of her. Liquid sloshed over the side of one of the glasses and her eyes flew upwards to meet concerned brown ones.

       Bedroom brown eyes with thick, dark lashes.

      Her pulse raced erratically. It was the man in the bronzed mask. The tall one with the impossibly wide shoulders and long legs. The one who had saved the woman from being eaten by the swan. The one with the chocolate-brown hair brushed back in mussed waves just like Sam’s, and the impossibly kissable mouth perfectly positioned in a smoothly chiselled jaw. Also, just like Sam’s.

      A shaft of liquid heat detonated low in her pelvis, sending plumes of sensation outwards just as it had done in that trendy pub two years ago. Just as it had done at Miller’s wedding one year ago.

      It’s not him, she assured herself. It’s not him. It’s not—

      ‘Sorry about that.’ A hint of a lazy smile played at the edges of his mouth. ‘My fool acquaintance wasn’t watching where he was going.’

      Ruby froze, her IQ falling by a hundred points. The man who—please, God—couldn’t be Sam Ventura cocked his head with bemused candour at her stultifying silence, his gaze falling to her lips before drifting lower and stopping on the drinks she was gripping precariously in front of her. ‘You need a hand carrying those?’ His dark gaze returned to hers. ‘I’d be more than happy to assist.’

      Mentally berating her stunned-mullet act, Ruby kicked her brain into gear and clamped her lips together. This was not Sam Ventura. He was just a very good-looking, powerfully built replica who seemed very much like Sam Ventura.

      ‘Thanks, but no, thanks,’ she bit out in a low tone. ‘Believe it or not, I don’t need a man to make my life perfect.’

       And why on earth had she said that?

      Grimly aware that she had silenced them all, she turned her back on the little group and willed her jelly legs to hold her upright as she hurried back to Molly.

      * * *

      Well, well, well, if he hadn’t just been put in his place by the very beautiful, and very cool Ruby Clarkson, Sam mused, watching as she disappeared into the crowd as if the hounds of hell were after her. Because, as surprising as it was to run into her so soon, it was her; there wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind.

      A fiery spark of heat ignited inside him as he noted the graceful, swan-like neck and hourglass figure in the lavender gown. Obviously she hadn’t recognised him and that was a little...disappointing?

      Two years ago he’d kissed her and felt as if he were standing on a tight wire being swung from side to side without a safety net to catch him. One year ago he’d wanted to repeat the experience and could have sworn she did too, and now she passed him by as if he was what? Nobody special? An irritant, even?

      Ignoring the four bozos he hadn’t liked in high school and liked even less now, Sam grabbed his beer and headed into the party as the men behind him laughed uproariously at another lewd story that was as likely to be true as Sam suggesting that his father had put him first as a boy. Pure fantasy.

      Shoving that thought back where it belonged, he took a pull of his beer.

       Had Ruby really not recognised him?

      The thought was like a burr in his side as he caught sight of lavender silk from across the room.

      Not her, he realised as the woman lowered her hand-held mask to speak to her companion. His heartbeat steadied and he frowned as he realised that it had sped up in the first place. He wasn’t here to hit on anyone. He certainly wasn’t here to hit on Miller’s off-limits friend. Yet he couldn’t deny that his senses were instantly charged at having seen Ruby again so unexpectedly. Which had answered one of his earlier questions—no, the attraction he felt for her hadn’t lessened. Not even a little.

       But what about for her?

      He stood and watched the lively partygoers for a moment, wondering if he should prop up the bar for a bit, or head to a quieter corner until enough time had passed that he could leave. Or maybe he should hunt Ruby Clarkson down and wait for her to recognise him.

      And what then? a little voice taunted. Surely you’re not thinking of finishing that thing you started two years ago?

      Sam tilted the bottle of beer to his lips and took another long, fortifying pull.

      Was he thinking that?

      He couldn’t deny that the idea still held some appeal. More than some appeal, if he was being honest. Ruby Clarkson was a beautiful woman. What man wouldn’t want a long-legged, curvaceous honey-blonde woman spread out beneath him, naked and wanting in his bed, those glorious green eyes glazed over with desire, her lips plump and wet from his kisses, her creamy thighs parted for his possession?

      Sam’s body hardened at the images rampaging through his head and softly cursed his wayward libido. No doubt she’d be great in bed. Great in his bed.

      And there was that niggly note of ownership that had given him such pause two years ago. The caveman element that only she drew out of him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like how effortlessly she drew him to her, or how often he thought about her. He certainly didn’t like how possessive he felt about her. Would one night with her in his bed solve that? Would one night rid him of the powerful pull she seemed to have over him or would it only make it worse?

      Sam’s brooding gaze noticed a hint of lavender