Susan Stephens - The Purest of Diamonds?

She loved his sense of humour and couldn’t stop herself laughing. ‘I’ve got more sense than that,’ she assured him. ‘And I’m definitely not Raffa Leon’s type.’ She gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Thank goodness.’

‘He has got a bit of a reputation,’ the cabbie agreed. ‘But you don’t want to believe everything you read about people in the press.’

Remembering how the glossies made out that all three Skavanga sisters were currently monopolising the world stage, at least as far as celebrity went, Leila was inclined to believe him. The only stage she stood a chance of monopolising was the bus shelter on her way to work.

‘And remember this,’ the cabbie added, giving Leila an appraising look. ‘Billionaires like to marry down. They want a quiet life at home. They have enough excitement in the office. Don’t take offence,’ he said quickly. ‘I mean that as a compliment. You look like a nice, quiet girl, is all.’

By this point Leila was convulsed with laughter. ‘And no offence taken. Now you be careful of the icy roads. I’m guessing you’ve got a long, cold night ahead of you.’

‘Too right, I have. Goodnight, love. You have fun at that party.’

‘I will,’ she promised. Just as soon as she had visited the restroom to sort out her dress. Parties might not be her thing, but she had no intention of letting down her glamorous sisters by arriving at their celebration looking as if she’d been mud wrestling before she arrived.

Picking her way carefully across the icy road as soon as there was a gap in the traffic, she launched herself into the shadows. Raffa Leon was standing at the top of the steps scanning the street, probably waiting for some glamorous socialite to decant from a limo.

God, he was gorgeous!

But bang went her plan for an anonymous entrance—

Not necessarily... All she had to do was choose her moment and scoot past him. He wouldn’t even notice her—

Wrong.

Everything was going so well. Raffa was looking one way while she was running up the steps on his blind side. But then she hit a patch of ice, and while her heels went one way she went the other. With a shriek, she prepared to hit the stone hard.

Wrong again.

‘Leila Skavanga!’

She was shocked into silence for a moment as the most impossibly handsome face in the world hovered inches from her own.

‘Raffa Leon!’ She faked surprise. ‘Goodness! Please forgive me. I didn’t see you standing there—’

Much.

Surprise? Make that deeply embarrassing. If there was one lap she didn’t want to land in tonight, it was this lap. And Raffa was holding her so firmly she had no option but to remain exactly where she was, with him shooting heat through her veins, and quite a lot of other places too. Trying not to breathe in case the cheese sandwich she’d chomped down earlier overrode the smell of toothpaste, she remained immobile, while he...while he just smelled amazing. And those eyes...

‘Thank you,’ she said, recovering her senses as he lifted her and steadied her on her feet.

‘I’m glad I caught you.’

His voice was deep and sexy, and faintly accented in a way that would have made the call of a corncrake sound melodious. ‘I’m glad you did too.’ He had just performed a save that would have earned him a standing ovation if she’d been a rugby ball.

‘You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?’

The man for whom the phrase tall, dark and handsome had been invented was looking at her legs. Deeply conscious of her ruined tights, she made a big play of brushing herself down. ‘No. I’m fine.’ She shook both feet in turn as if to prove the point and then felt stupid. He made her feel so gauche.

‘We have met before,’ he said, easing his big, sexy shoulders in a shrug.

‘In the reception line at Britt’s wedding,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

Not only did he smell divine, and he was unreasonably compelling in a swarthy, piratical way, but those wicked eyes and that energy flying off him, both were off the scale. This encounter was so far out of her comfort zone, it was embarrassing, and she was longing to escape, but Raffa seemed in no hurry to get away. In fact he was studying her face as if she were one of the exhibits in the museum. Was her mascara smudged? She wasn’t very good at applying make-up. Worse! Did she have sandwich stuck in her teeth?

Closing her mouth, she checked discreetly with her tongue.

‘Not only did we meet before, we’re almost family, Leila.’

‘Sorry...’ When Raffa’s eyes smiled into hers, she couldn’t think straight. ‘Family?’

‘Sí,’ Raffa insisted in his addictive Spanish drawl. ‘Now the second member of the consortium is marrying a Skavanga sister, there’s only us two left. There’s no need to look so shocked, Señorita Skavanga. I only meant that perhaps we can get to know each other a little better now.’

Did he really want to?

Why did he want to?

Instantly suspicious of why such a devastatingly successful, good-looking man would want to get to know her better, she blurted, ‘I don’t have many shares in the company.’

Raffa laughed then forced a gasp out of her as he bowed over her hand. ‘I don’t have any intention of stealing your shares, Leila.’

How could someone brushing his lips over the back of her hand cause so much sensation? She’d read about things like this. Before they were married or engaged her sisters had talked incessantly about romantic encounters, but this was a whole new world for Leila. Not that Raffa meant to be romantic. It was just his way of putting her at ease.

So why was it having the opposite effect?

People were still pouring up the steps to the party, pressing in on them from every side, making conversation impossible, let alone making it easy to move away from each other. And she was hopeless at small talk. The weather? It was always cold in Skavanga. That would keep them talking for all of ten seconds. But this was a Skavanga sisters’ party, and Raffa was their guest, so it was up to her to make him feel welcome.

Bracing herself, she launched in. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your trip to Skavanga.’

He seemed amused by her opening sally. ‘I am now.’

This was accompanied by a slanting smile that would bring Hollywood to its knees.

‘It’s been back-to-back business meetings for me before tonight,’ he explained, his face turning serious, which was another great look for him. ‘I just finished another meeting.’

‘So you’re staying here at the hotel?’

She blushed as Raffa held her gaze and frowned slightly. He probably thought she was coming on to him, when that was a typical example of Leila Skavanga out of her depth and swimming frantically to reach the shore. Or, to put it another way: she had zero small talk.

Fortunately, Raffa had turned to assess the logistics of making it through the door without being trampled on. ‘It seems to have quietened down a bit. Shall we go in?’

‘Oh, I can make it from here,’ she insisted, guessing he was longing to get away.

‘Don’t look so worried, Leila,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re going to love the party. Trust me...’

Trust Raffa Leon? When everyone knew his reputation? ‘I’d better find my sisters, but thank you for your assurance—and for your great save,’ she added as an afterthought, smiling.

‘Don’t mention it.’

His eyes were warm and luminous, and they plumbed deep, considering Raffa Leon was practically a stranger. This only made her more determined to stick to her original plan, which was to share a quick drink with her sisters, eat dinner—without spilling food down her, if possible—and then indulge in a little non-controversial chit-chat before shooting off as soon as she politely could.