Instead of getting upset, Marcel was amused—flattered even. For the first time, he managed to relax. He was definitely not going to find his future wife at this party.
Suddenly, there was a loud murmur among the crowd, peppered with a few shocked gasps. People stopped dancing and Marcel turned and tried to see what was happening. When his eyes landed on a fiery temptress in silk and lace, it was love at first sight.
Chapter 21
Marcel’s eyes roamed slowly over a dress that was fire-engine red with a V-neck that split clear to a beautiful navel. How the dress managed to stay in place over her twin assets was a mystery that he was willing to unravel.
“Excuse me,” he whispered to Chelsea and then deserted her in the crowd. By the time he crossed the room, his enchanting goddess had attracted a swarm of men around her, all asking for the first dance.
He met her hazel-green stare with a confident smile, but it quickly disappeared when she linked her arm through the man’s next to her and allowed him to direct her to the dance floor.
“Lucky bastard,” one of the men she’d deserted grumbled.
“Well, I’m next,” another one announced.
“Who says?” a man confronted.
Marcel ignored the brewing competition and instead kept his gaze locked on the woman who continued to turn heads. The back of her dress also dipped low and had a fan of lace just above her derriere.
He fingered his mandarin collar as the room’s temperature skyrocketed.
The beauty’s dance partner turned to her on the floor and looked uncertain as to where he should place his hands. She tossed back her head with a laugh, which Marcel strained his ears to hear.
He headed toward her with no plan as to what he would say once he’d reached his destination. His years of being the calm, cool Casanova Brown pumped him with a false confidence as he tapped her partner’s shoulder.
The man turned, but Marcel locked gazes with the object of his desire. “Mind if I cut in?”
“I’m not finished dancing with her,” the man hissed menacingly.
Marcel waited for her response, but she simply smiled and turned back to her partner.
The stranger took her back into his arms and tossed Marcel an angry glare.
For Marcel, this sort of rejection was a new and strange experience. Instead of being angry, he was intrigued.
“Ouch. That had to hurt,” Solomon said as he followed Marcel off the dance floor.
“Have any idea who she is?”
“No clue. But I have to hand it to her, she definitely knows how to enter a room. All the men in here are just waiting for that dress to shift in any direction. You think she’s a performer?”
He shrugged. “There’s something familiar about her.”
“Surely you’re not going to use the ‘haven’t we met somewhere before?’ line. It’s bad enough that you’ve already been shot down once.”
“Thanks.”
Solomon slapped him on the back. “Don’t mention it.”
“Ah, there you two are,” Willy blared.
Thinking that Willy might know or recognize the lady in red, Marcel turned with a wide grin only for it to flip upside down when he recognized the woman Willy tugged behind him.
“Since I saw how you crashed and burned a minute ago, I brought you someone who might turn your night around.”
Nora turned up the wattage on her smile and tried not to shoot a daggered gaze at the woman who’d stolen the spotlight. “Hello, Marcel.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Willy admonished him. “No names. I should start ejecting people who break the rules. Everyone should’ve picked a nickname for tonight.”
“In that case,” Nora said, “call me Sunshine.”
Willy laughed. “Ah. How appropriate.”
“And you?” Willy looked to Marcel.
“Casanova,” Solomon answered for him.
“I hate that name,” Marcel confessed.
“Well, it’ll do for tonight,” Willy said, pushing Marcel and Nora closer together. “Now, you two dance and try to get to know each other.” He tugged Marcel by the sleeve so he would lean down as he whispered, “If you don’t like this one, let me know. I might take her for myself.”
Though he had no romantic feelings for Nora, Marcel wasn’t crazy enough to subject her to the madness that was Willy Bassett.
“So what does a woman have to do to get a dance around here?” Nora asked, slinking closer.
Marcel automatically stepped back, but then decided that one dance wouldn’t hurt. He would just have to watch his p’s and q’s around his ambitious employee. “I would be honored if you’d have this dance with me,” he said.
All was not lost, Nora decided. The lady in red could just eat her heart out.
Diana watched as Marcel gathered a woman who looked like a giant banana into his arms and waltzed onto the dance floor. That wasn’t a part of her plan. He was supposed to linger in the shadows and sulk for a while as she danced with strangers.
Why did she listen to Tim? Now what was she supposed to do? Had she blown her only opportunity for the night?
Men love mysteries and challenges, she repeated in her head. Remain aloof and standoffish.
“I feel as though you’re not listening to me,” the man in her arms said. “Excuse me?” Damn. I’m supposed to have a French accent.
The man smiled from behind a mask that made him look as if an ostrich had exploded on his face. “Your mind is on someone else. Am I right?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking over his shoulder to see if she could catch another glimpse of Marcel.
“It’s all right. Just please tell me it wasn’t that jerk that tried to cut in on us.”
She grimaced and the man laughed.
“Should have known I would lose out to another tall, dark and handsome type. One of these days, short, light-skinned and chubby is going to make a comeback and then you’ll be sorry.”
Diana laughed. “You’re a very nice man…?”
He filled in the blank for her. “Alfred.”
“No real names,” she reminded him.
“I know. That’s my party name for the night.”
She tried to swallow her amusement, but continued to laugh at the charming man. “Well, Alfred, I’m sure any of the women here would be lucky to have you.”
“Famous last words.” He chuckled. “So shall I lead you over to the man you wore this dynamite dress for this evening?”
She glanced over his shoulder at Marcel and the knockout in his arms. “No. That won’t be necessary. It looks like he’s moved on.”
Alfred turned to sneak a peek.
“Don’t look,” she whispered. “I don’t want him to know we’re talking about him.”
He laughed. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”
“At what?”
“At trying to make a man jealous.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“It’s all right,” he assured her. “Trust me when I say that you’re way ahead of the curve just by wearing that dress.”
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I was so confident that I could pull this off. But now that I’m here…”
He gave her a kind smile. “I don’t believe I’m about to do this, but…just follow my lead.”
Before Diana had the chance to comprehend what he was about to do, he glided her through a throng of people and stopped next to Marcel and his banana cream puff.
Tapping Marcel’s shoulder, Alfred forced on an amicable smile and asked, “Mind if I cut in?”
Diana turned as well and her eyes clashed with a very angry Nora Gibson. The woman’s declaration of winning Marcel echoed in Diana’s head and she suddenly had a renewed sense of purpose.
“Be my guest,” Marcel said, turning out of Nora’s arms and gravitating toward Diana.
Nora gasped and then stomped her foot as Marcel and Diana drifted away.
“I believe your partner is upset wit
h you,” Diana was careful to say in a thick, breathy French accent.
Marcel lifted a surprised brow, but then slid on a small grin. “I’m sure that she’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I’m more interested in you right now.”
“Is that so?” Relishing the way one of his hands pressed against her bare back and his intense gaze slowly traveled down her body, Diana shivered.
“First, let me introduce myself. I’m Marcel Taylor.”
She smiled. “No real names, remember? At least until the end of the night.”
“All right, then.” His gaze now locked on her lips. “What is your name for tonight?”
“Mayte,” she said with a quiet smile. “I like the way it sounds.”
He nodded and rolled the name around on his tongue. “It’s exotic, much like yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“No. Thank you for wearing that dress.”
Their gazes locked for so long, she was sure that he could see straight through her elaborate mask and fake contact lenses. Any second now he would push her away in either shock or anger.
“Why don’t we go somewhere where we can hear ourselves think?” he asked.
She swallowed. The fear of rejection when he found out who she was had her seriously considering cutting her losses and hightailing it out of there. She only had to stay until midnight, she told herself. Surely she could continue this charade until then.
“Are you game?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
She loved the way he looked at her. It was unlike the blatant lust in the eyes of the other men in the room. It held something more. “Sure,” she said, keeping with her fake accent and fighting back her butterflies.
Marcel turned, sliding his arm around her waist. The smile he shared with her threatened to split his face in half as he glided her toward a back patio. More than ever, he was glad that Solomon had talked him into coming to this party. Life as he knew it was about to change and he embraced it gladly.
He glanced down at Mayte and shared a smile as they stepped out onto the patio, but discovered that it was just as crowded there as the dance floor. Instead, he directed her through the gardens and down toward one of the gazebos.
“I don’t know about this,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Perhaps we should stay with the party.”
He stopped. “I would just like to spend some quiet time and try to get to know you. Not to mention,” he added, reaching up and removing his mask, “this thing is bugging the heck out of me.”
Mayte pressed a hand to her mask and stepped back. “We’re not supposed to remove our masks.”
His lips sloped to the side. “I like to think of rules as mere guidelines.”
“I don’t.” She turned.
“Wait.” His hand shot out to grasp her arm. “You don’t have to take yours off if you don’t want to. In fact nothing is going to happen…unless you want it to.”
She stared up at him for a long while before she visibly relaxed and turned back to face him. “We play by the rules.”
“As you like.” He calmly placed his mask back on and she rewarded him with a smile.
Marcel sighed as his eyes roamed over her face. At that moment, she confirmed something his heart knew all along. The familiar shape of her lips, the sweet scent of vanilla and the slightly off-centered nose sent his heart a-flutter. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.
“We shall.” She accepted his offer and allowed him to lead the way.
Chapter 22
Diana wasn’t aware of the exact moment when she ceased to live in reality and existed only in what had to be a fantasy. Everything seemed so perfect—too perfect, in fact.
Glancing up into the heavens, she was blown away by the black velvety sky and all those billions of stars that twinkled like diamonds back at her. She drew in a deep breath and was invigorated by the night’s cool, clean air.
“You seem happy,” he commented, as they stepped up into the gazebo.
“I am happy,” she said, glancing over. “Aren’t you?”
“Ecstatic.”
Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel his gaze on her. Never in her life had she felt so empowered, so in control and so feminine at the same time.
“So, Mayte. Where have you been all my life?”
She laughed. “Is that your best line, Casanova?”
He straightened. “How did you know my name for this evening?”
Damn. She mentally scrambled for an answer. “Everyone knows Marcel’s alter ego as Casanova Brown.”
“Is that right?” He inched closer. “You shouldn’t pay attention to rumors.”
“Not even the ones about you being an excellent lover?”
“Well, except that one.”
His rumble of laughter rushed against the shell of her ear and her toes tingled. “I better be careful around you,” she said, moving away in order to clear her head.
“With you in that dress, I could say the same for myself.”
She twirled around. “You like?”
“I love.” He approached her again. “You really shouldn’t have to ask.”
His closeness muddled her thoughts.
“So what do you say you tell me a little about yourself?” he asked, taking her hands into his. “What do you do? Where do you stay? And please tell me that you’re available.”
Think, think. She mimicked the playful laugh Tim had taught her, and then narrowed the remaining space between them so she could walk her fingers up his chest. “Tonight is supposed to be all about mystery. Now, you don’t want to ruin that, do you?”
In answer, Marcel’s head descended and captured her lips in the sweetest kiss she’d ever known. Everything about him was like magic, from the way he brought her body to life to the way he influenced her imagination.
His passion overwhelmed her as she struggled to get as close as possible to his heat. She’d dreamed of this moment for so long. She was afraid that it wasn’t really happening. Her hand slid up and around his neck and she was lost.
How such a strong man could have such soft hands eluded Diana, but they sure felt heavenly as they roamed along her bare back. What would it be like to have them touching other places?
The sound of footsteps and laughter ended their short voyage to heaven as their lips sprang apart.
“Ah.” Uncle Willy’s voice cracked the air. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.” He draped his arms around two women and they all joined them inside the gazebo. “But I guess I should have known that you’d try to get this pretty little filly alone. Of course, between the two of us we could get our own private party started. What do you say?”
Diana’s eyes bulged. Surely he didn’t mean what she thought he meant.
Marcel hugged Diana close. “We’ll pass.” He guided her away from their new guests.
“Can’t say that I blame you.” Willy laughed. “You know you’re more than welcome to give her a tour around the rest of the house. If you know what I mean.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcel and Diana stepped out of the gazebo and headed back toward the house.
Diana waited until they were out of earshot before she whispered, “Does that sort of thing happen a lot with you two?”
“Does what happen?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.
She stopped and glanced up. It was difficult to meet his dark gaze in the black night. “Do you two share women?” She could feel his laughter rumble through his body.
“Never. What do you think I am—some kind of devil or something?”
Diana’s breath hitched as her mind instantly went to the costume she had picked out for him. Did he know?
“Why?” he asked. “Were you interested in his offer?”
“Hell, no.” Her body stilled as she spoke her outrage. She had also forgotten her accent for a moment. Her heart hammered in her chest, while she suddenly felt exposed.
“Well, that’s good to know,” he fin
ally said, and then continued to lead her toward the house.
Soon, they were among a cluster of people and once again, Diana drew everyone’s attention.
Marcel retrieved two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter but before he could hand one to Diana, Solomon appeared at her side.
“I absolutely must have a dance with the most beautiful creature here. Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm.
Diana hesitated, but at seeing Marcel’s irritation, she decided, What the hell? and accepted his arm. “I’d love to.”
Solomon winked at Marcel and led Diana off to the dance floor. “That ought to burn his hide,” he whispered.
“Are you angry with him?” she asked, returning to her French accent.
“Of course not. That’s my man right there.”
Diana glanced up at him.
“I don’t mean that he’s my man man.”
She laughed at how his mocha complexion darkened with embarrassment. “It’s okay, you know. I have plenty of gay friends,” she teased him.
“No, no. We’re not gay.” His neck was now a bright red. “I just meant that we’re best friends.”
“Oh.” She exaggerated her understanding. “That’s good to know.”
He took her into his arms and began swaying to the music. “You know, I’m helping my good buddy find his potential wife tonight.”
So it’s true. “I wouldn’t have imagined he needed help in that department.”
“He doesn’t need help finding women. It’s finding the right woman.”
“And you’re an expert in this area?” she asked.
“Well, uh, no.” He frowned.
Diana smiled. “Interesting.” From the corner of her eyes, she saw Marcel leaning against a Greek column as he watched them.
“What makes you think he’s ready to settle down?” she asked.
Solomon shrugged. “He told me. Said he wanted what his parents have. They’ve been married for forty years.”
Being a child of unmarried parents, Diana could only imagine what it would be like to be married to someone for so long. What kind of husband would Marcel Taylor make?
For the past two years, Diana had looked down her nose at her boss’s promiscuous lifestyle while she battled her growing affection. Could she truly be the kind of woman he’d want to settle down with for the rest of his life?
Unforgettable (Arabesque) Page 15
