Up Close And Personal. Lynn Raye Harris

as she took him in. He was far too handsome in his bespoke tuxedo, the white shirt once more setting off the golden color of his skin and eyes.

      Truly, it should be against the law for a man to be so striking.

      The jazz ensemble struck up a tune and Raj reached for her before she realized what he was about. “Do me the honor, Madam President?” he asked, as Mrs. Witherston tittered like a Regency matron.

      “Of course,” she said as she put her hand in his. What else could she say? What else did she want to say?

      Raj swept her into the swirling crowd, one hand firmly against her back, the other clasping hers. The pressure of his touch comforted her, made her feel as if she’d come home again after a long time away.

      She hated it. Hated how her body reacted, how her mind seemed to want to attach significance to this man. He might be able to keep her physically safe from harm, but he could not keep her safe from himself if she insisted on lying helplessly in the tiger’s claws.

      She knew better, and yet she turned into a puddle each time he touched her.

      “How have you been today?” he asked.

      “Well,” she said. “You?”

      His eyes seemed to search her face, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “I was busy taking care of a few things. But now I’m all yours,” he said, a devilish grin lifting the corners of his sensual mouth.

      “Oh, all mine,” she cooed. “How delightful, Mr. Vala.”

      “I thought we had gone beyond that.”

      “How could we? I’ve only just met you.”

      Her heart skipped a beat at his sudden smile. “Ah, yes, of course. I thought we could use this opportunity to begin our ‘official’ relationship.”

      “Why not?” she said, returning his smile. “It’s certainly more dignified.”

      “But perhaps it’s not the first time we’ve met,” he said, his gaze skimming her face as he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “Perhaps we are old souls who have known one another before. Perhaps we are meant to be.”

      Veronica stumbled, but quickly caught herself. Raj was frowning. “It’s the shoes,” she said. And the fact she was tired from a restless night and unnerved to be in his arms again. “I’m fine.”

      “Good,” he said. They moved across the floor together, their steps as fluid as silk. In her peripheral vision, she could see people stopping, pointing, heads leaning together as they talked about her and Raj. Ah, well, that had been the plan, had it not?

      And yet it disappointed her in some respects. Now that they would be publicly linked, it was as if the innocence of their budding relationship had been eroded.

       What relationship?

      “Are we falling madly in love now?” Raj asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

      “Madly,” she agreed, playing the game. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

      “Neither have I.”

      The words they said had no meaning, and yet she couldn’t help but want to assign meaning that wasn’t there. Had she ever been truly, madly in love before? She’d thought she’d been in love, but she’d usually realized the disappointing truth at some stage.

      And she was positive that no man had ever felt that emotion for her. Lust, yes. Love, no.

      “When we finish dancing, I suppose you will remain by my side the entire night?” she asked. “Enraptured by my presence?”

      “The proverbial wild horses could not drag me away, Madam President.” He lifted her hand to his lips again. The feather touch of his mouth against her skin sent a shudder rolling through her body. Hot need sizzled into the deepest parts of her.

      Too bad this really wasn’t Regency England, because then she would be wearing long gloves. She wouldn’t be able to feel the sensual pressure of his mouth on her skin, wouldn’t have to fight the focusing of all her senses upon that one spot. It was an exquisite torture to endure.

      “Too bad our love is doomed to fail,” she said, needing to counteract the drugging affect of his touch.

      Again with the killer smile. “Then let us enjoy it while it lasts,” he purred. “It’s much more fun that way.”

      The evening went much as she’d thought it might. Raj did not leave her side. To all appearances, he was smitten with her. And she returned the favor, smiling in his direction, seeking him out if he walked away for the barest moment. Her eyes were pulled to him as if he were a magnet and she the metal.

      It made talking to Giancarlo Zarella a bit difficult, but she finally managed to get the Italian alone at a table for a few moments. He seemed interested in Aliz, his eyes gleaming speculatively as she talked of incentives and subsidies.

      “You would levy no taxes against us for the first year of operations, you say?”

      Giancarlo was handsome, but she found herself comparing him to Raj and judging him lacking. “So long as you invest the money into building up the resort and hiring Alizeans to staff it.”

      “Make it two years, and I will consider it,” he said shortly.

      Veronica leaned in. “One year is what I can promise. But I pledge to work on reducing the tax burden in your next five years in Aliz.”

      Giancarlo laughed. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But then you know just how to twist the knife enough to get me to notice. I will think on it, I promise you.”

      After that, Veronica felt as if nothing could puncture the balloons lifting her up tonight. She had no guarantees, but she felt as if she’d made a good start with Giancarlo. He would be in touch, she was certain. He left her at the table with an apology as someone beckoned him from another table a bit farther away.

      “Did you get what you wanted?”

      Veronica jumped at the voice. Raj was frowning down at her. He seemed troubled, but not alarmingly so. “I did,” she replied. “Or so I think.”

      He took her elbow and helped her up. “Good. I think it is time we leave, then.”

      Veronica blinked. The jazz ensemble was playing an upbeat version of a classic Christmas carol. “Time we leave? I’m not finished here yet.”

      “How many hearts do you plan to capture tonight?” he asked. His voice was teasing, but his eyes seemed hot and intense. Serious. “You’ve had a long few days. It’s time you rest.”

      “I can decide that for myself. You weren’t hired to oversee my schedule, you know.” She knew he was merely trying to protect her from harm, and yet the memories of her life with her father were too strong to dismiss. She would not be so controlled ever again. Keeping her safe wasn’t the same as wrapping her in a cocoon.

      His jaw hardened imperceptibly. “Actually, it goes with the territory. Or didn’t you realize that?”

      “I decide when I leave,” she said. “And I’m not ready yet. Unless there is a real threat at this moment and time, which I will acknowledge is your responsibility. Is there?”

      He looked angry. “No,” he said shortly. “There is no immediate threat.”

      “Then we stay.”

      One eyebrow crooked. The superiority of that look infuriated her. “Then don’t blame me when you encounter people you might wish you had not.”

      “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

      “It means that Andre Girard just arrived.”

      Her heart skipped a beat at that name falling from Raj’s lips. It was wrong somehow. Horribly, horribly wrong. For a moment she wondered if he knew what