'Hannah may not have enjoyed our social and intellectual advantages, but she is bright. She's articulate and thoughtful.'
Maggie Hilton conceded this with a sigh. 'I grant you that, but she's so dull!'
'She's my wife.' It hadn't been a proud assertion, just a flat statement of fact. He'd sounded like a man who'd given up on hope.
Over time, when Hannah saw the Hiltons, she remembered that pitch of dull acceptance in his voice. But it wouldn't be so bad tonight: she'd gained confidence over the last year, and had learnt a few social tricks. She was still an outsider as far as they were concerned, and she accepted the fact.
Ethan didn't say another word to her until they stood outside the illuminated facade of the Hiltons' home, and even then she had to prompt him.
'Didn't I get it all off?' she asked when his eyes dwelt over-long in the general direction of her mouth. She touched her lips nervously. "The red lipstick was too much,' she babbled frantically, 'but I thought I'd got it all off.' It had left a crimson stain that made her look as if she'd been eating raspberries, but she thought she'd removed the worst of the 'in your face' gloss.
'Let me see,' Ethan said, placing his forefinger firmly under her chin. "There's only one sure way to remove lipstick in my experience.'
'What's...?'
The sensuous, slow movement of his warm mouth against her lips sent any lingering concerns about her make-up out of the window. She wasn't the slightest bit bothered when his big hands slid through the silky strands of her hair, obliterating her new hairstyle as his fingers caressed her scalp. The tingling went all the way down to her toes and she was obliged to press her hands against the solidity of his chest to stop herself falling into an inelegant heap.
'Mission accomplished,' he murmured, drawing away. His eyes appeared darker than usual as he examined her quivering lips.
Hannah was dizzily aware that the door was opening. "Thank you,' she said faintly.
'It was a pleasure.'
'It was?' she asked doubtfully. She pinned her polite social smile on her face as her hostess appeared.
'Definitely.' He flicked a look in her direction which made her stomach dissolve into a warm ache before he surged forward to hug the elegant older woman. 'Maggie, my dear, you look marvellous.'
"Thank you, Ethan, darling, but I know when I've been upstaged,' she said drily, staring at Hannah, who stood a little behind them. 'Poor Richard, I'm afraid his blood pressure is going to be troublesome tonight. You look stunning, my dear.' For a moment Hannah assumed it was Ethan her hostess was talking to; when her error became obvious her eyes widened.
Ethan caught Hannah's hand and urged her gently into the brilliantly lit hallway. 'Doesn't she just?'
Did he actually believe that or was this a sample of his silky society manners? When he chose to wheel out the charm Ethan could leave even Jean-Paul standing, only he didn't normally waste his charisma on his wife. It would be a mistake to read too much into this behaviour, she told herself firmly, and as for the kiss. The kiss...! She couldn't think at all when she thought about that.
She couldn't help but be gratified by the double takes and flattering attention. Alice was very condescending in her helpful criticism of Hannah's outfit, and Hannah couldn't resist pointing out that the lady's own husband had admired her outfit.
'But he's a man, my dear, and men are notoriously drawn to...tacky— Sorry.' She laughed theatrically and covered her mouth with a hand. 'It just slipped out. Don't look so unhappy, Hannah. Its not as if you've got a lot to flaunt, is it?'
'Not as much as you,' Hannah agreed quietly as she turned to go. She regretted immediately that she'd allowed herself to be goaded into the catty response. 'I wish I hadn't said that,' she murmured, closing her eyes.
'If she can't take it, the lady shouldn't dish it up.'
The sound of Ethan's voice at her elbow made Hannah jump. 'Were you eavesdropping?'
'Not intentionally. You've danced with everyone else,' he said, as the soft heavy thud of an evocative melody filled the room. 'I think it's my turn.' He took hold of her upper arm, and his fingers slid experimentally over her skin as if he was somehow impelled to sample the texture of her creamy flesh.
'I didn't think you danced.' The almost imperceptible movement of his fingers had a mesmeric effect on Hannah's nervous system. Why had he kissed her? It was a question that wouldn't go away. Each time her thoughts had returned to the subject her eyes had sought him out. The light food and wine hadn't taken the taste of him from her mouth. Her throat ached with emotion. And no practical good intentions could banish the excitement that heated her blood.
'It was news to me that you do,' he reminded her drily. 'If dancing is what they call those sexy gyrations you've been treating us to tonight.'