It had hit him anew how wrong he’d been about her. How she’d actually been a virgin when they’d met in London. Adoni remembered that night, the moment of tense stillness and shocking doubt, which he’d dismissed as an impossibility. Now, remembering it, he felt obliged to exert restraint. Alice was pregnant, inexperienced and needed rest.
How was he to keep his hands off her when she looked like this?
‘Effie has great taste in clothes.’
Adoni flattened his lips rather than blurt out that it was the woman, not the clothes that dazzled.
Her hand went to her throat in a nervous gesture that belied her confident smile.
‘That’s a beautiful piece.’ He leaned in, pretending to examine the black choker with its fiery opal centre stone. ‘Expensive too.’ He was speaking at random, hiding the swift inhale that dragged the scent of warm feminine skin and orange blossom deep into his lungs.
‘It was an eighteenth birthday gift from Jasper, our old neighbour in Devon.’ Her chin notched up in challenge. ‘He’s a jewellery designer.’
No mistaking her crisp tone. It confused Adoni till he remembered his earlier accusation that she lived off older men. Heat scored his cheeks, guilt biting. He was a proud man, not used to feeling in the wrong.
‘He’s very talented. The dark blue matches your eyes but the flashes of red and green bring it to life. It suits you—vibrant and with hidden depths.’
‘Adoni?’ Her head tilted to one side in that endearing way. ‘Ithinkthat’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’
He took her hand and kissed it, pleased at her shiver and the sudden widening of her eyes. ‘The night’s still young.’
* * *
‘This one’s intriguing. I love the unusual perspective.’ Alice sounded thoughtful but with that hint of excitement he’d sensed all night. Standing beside him, her attention was on a larger-than-life portrait.
The chatter and noise of the exhibition’s opening night continued, but in this corner it was muted. Perhaps it seemed so because Adoni’s attention was fixed on her.
The artist, who’d followed Alice, spoke enthusiastically about using light and perspective to reveal character. Instead of listening, Adoni watched Alice.
As if sensing his regard she flashed him a smile, then she took a half-step back, inviting him to join the discussion.
She’d been doing that all evening, favouring him with that wide smile. It dazzled more surely than the exquisite opal at her throat that flashed fire every time she moved.
Did she know how that invitation affected him? That it made him want to plough her back against one of the stark white walls and reacquaint himself with every centimetre of her svelte body?
The dancing light in her eyes suggested she did.
He’d have dragged them out of here and found relief for the hunger riding him hard, but for something else. Alice was having the time of her life.
She was in her element. It shouldn’t surprise him, given her family history and her own talent. Yet Adoni was transfixed by the sheer joy she radiated, being here.
She loved the party, mingling with people, striking up conversations. Laughing over the occasional language difficulties and gamely trying out the few Greek words she’d got from who knew where.
It was like discovering a completely different woman.
No. Not that. This was the same woman whose humour and forthright attitude, and sexy body, had seduced him that first night. Who’d intrigued even when he’d railed that fate had tied him to what he’d thought was a conniving gold-digger.
He’d got in the habit of thinking of Alice in simplistic terms. First as afemme fatale. Then as someone needing protection. Morning sickness had made her fragile and her living conditions had appalled, making him want to take care of her.
Now he saw depths he hadn’t fully appreciated.
‘Adoni admired the portrait in the first room,’ she told the artist. Lightly she touched Adoni’s hand and lightning shot through him, making his blood fire and his heart drum. ‘The one of the old lady.’ She turned to him. ‘It reminded you of someone, didn’t it?’
How had she known? He hadn’t said anything. Add perceptive to her list of qualities.
He nodded. ‘Our housekeeper when I was a boy. She looked old but when you met her eyes you realised she was young at heart.’
Memory blanketed him. Suddenly he was a scrawny kid again, always in the kitchen because meal times couldn’t keep up with his growth spurts. Maria had teased him but she’d shown more warmth and understanding than he’d ever got from his mother.