‘Alejandro du Crozier.’
She looked at his hand as if he’d pulled a gun on her.
‘Please leave me alone,’ she said, a touch furtively, and turned a rigid shoulder on him.
‘I’m not trying to pick you up, señorita.’ He tried again with what he considered was remarkable patience.
Her narrow back told him what she thought about that claim.
‘You clearly didn’t get the message. Lulu,’ he added dryly.
The use of her name had the intended effect. She peered at him cautiously over her shoulder, reminding Alejandro absurdly of a timid creature sticking its head out of a hole.
‘H-how do you know my name?’
He folded his arms.
‘I’m your ride,’ he said flatly.
‘My ride?’
As soon as she said it Lulu felt herself go red.
She didn’t have a dirty mind—truly she didn’t. She was always the last one to get the blue jokes that ran like quicksilver around the dressing room before shows at L’Oiseau Bleu, the Parisian cabaret where she danced in the chorus, but right now something seemed to have gone wrong with her. It had something to do with the way he looked at her—as if he knew exactly how she looked in her underwear.
Earlier he’d looked at her as if she was a bug he’d wanted to squash. Better to think about being the bug.
To her embarrassment she stepped back and almost tripped over her hand luggage. His hand shot out and grasped her elbow, saving her from a fall.
‘Careful, bella,’ he said, his warm breath brushing the top of her ear.
Her knees went to jelly.
She tried to tug herself free, confused. ‘Will you let me pass?’
‘Señorita,’ he said, holding her in place, ‘I am Alejandro du Crozier, and I will be driving you to the wedding.’
Her eyes flew to his. He knew about the wedding? That meant he was a guest too.
‘But Susie and Trixie are driving me to the wedding.’ As soon as she said it she realised those plans had possibly changed.
‘I know nothing of these women. I only know of you.’ His expression said that this wasn’t making his day.
Which was fine, Lulu decided. That made two of them. She gave another tug and he let go.
‘I don’t make a habit of going off with strange men, Mr—Mr—’
He pulled out his phone and held it up in front of her. She peered at the message on the screen and then looked at him in mute astonishment.
‘Khaled sent you?’
He gave that question the look it deserved. But he didn’t have to stand so close, did he? And he didn’t have to look at her mouth as if there was something about it that interested him. She most definitely didn’t have anything to interest him.
Weirdly, her heart was hammering.
His amber eyes, lushly lashed, met hers with a splintering intensity.
‘Unless you’re interested in walking, chica, I suggest you come with me now.’