Tycoon For Auction. Katherine Garbera

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СКАЧАТЬ Rand asked, coming up to her. His tuxedo was obviously custom-made, making him look like royalty, which, if gossip was true, he’d descended from.

      “Why?” she asked. She’d never had any finesse when it came to men. They made her nervous. Probably because of her experiences in foster care during her teen years.

      “When a man asks you to dance, Cori, yes or no is the appropriate answer,” he said, with that gleam in his eyes that made her want to do something shocking. Which was how she’d ended up bidding on him.

      She sighed and reminded herself that she was known as the ice queen for a very good reason. Life was safer that way. “My name is Corrine. And I know that.”

      “Do you?” He slid closer to her in the crowded ballroom. His hand glided up her arm—her bare arm. Why had she listened to Angelica Leone-Sterling, her friend and boss’s wife, and purchased this strapless dress? It wasn’t her, and it made her feel like someone she knew she couldn’t be.

      His palm was rough and rasped her skin. Tingles spread up her arm and across her chest, making her nipples tighten against the lace of her strapless bra. She shivered and stepped away from his disturbing touch. He arched one eyebrow but made no comment.

      “Yes,” she said at last, knowing only that she needed to do something to take control of the situation before she forgot about her plans. Rand was a stepping-stone to the next level, she reminded herself.

      “Shall we dance?” he asked again.

      She nodded. His cologne—a spicy, masculine scent—surrounded her as they stepped onto the dance floor and he pulled her into his arms. I’m in charge.

      But as his arms came around her and he settled her close against his chest, she didn’t feel like she was in charge. She didn’t want to be. Delicious sensations spread out from the hand he’d placed on the small of her back, radiating throughout her body and making her blood flow heavily through her veins.

      She shuddered and tried to break the spell his touch was weaving by looking at him. But his eyes held a lambent gaze that pulled her further under his spell. The slow, sensual sounds of a jazz saxophone filled the room, and then the trio’s lead singer, a tall black woman with a sultry voice, began to sing about wishing on a star.

      Corrine had spent her entire childhood wishing for something that had never come. She thought she’d grown beyond that, but the temptation to rest her cheek on Rand’s shoulder was strong and she knew she’d made a mistake. She had to get away.

      She tugged free of Rand’s grasp and hurried off the dance floor. What was with her tonight?

      She headed for the bar and ordered a Stoli straight. She needed something to shock her back to her senses. Maybe she could blame this funky mood on the fact that her closest female friend, Angelica Leone-Sterling, had just announced she was pregnant.

      Corrine knew she’d never have children. She wasn’t ever going to do something as dicey as bring a child into this chaotic world. This world where nothing lasted forever and death came quickly and swiftly, taking no notice of those left behind.

      Damn, she was getting maudlin. Maybe she shouldn’t be drinking. But before she could rescind her drink order, she sensed Rand behind her.

      “Make that two,” he said to the bartender.

      The bartender set the drinks in front of them. Rand paid for hers before she had a chance to get her money out.

      “Here’s some money for my drink,” she said when the bartender moved away.

      “I see that you are going to need some etiquette lessons as well as an escort for business functions.”

      “Why do you say that?” she asked. She knew she had manners. Mrs. Tanner, one of her foster mothers, had drilled manners into Corrine when she was eight years old. She didn’t think she’d ever forget those lessons.

      “Because you don’t know how to say thank you. Put your money away.”

      She slipped the folded bill back into her beaded handbag. When you grew up on charity it was hard to accept a handout. And Rand wasn’t her date for the night, he was a man she’d bid on. When she thought about it, maybe she should have paid for his drink. “I don’t like to take advantage of people.”

      “I didn’t think you were.”

      She took a sip of her drink, uncomfortable with the silence that had fallen between them. The liquid burned going down, but she didn’t flinch. Rand held his glass with a casual grace that made her feel awkward. She put her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and noticed that he did the same.

      “What happened on the dance floor?” he asked at last.

      She shrugged. No way was she going to tell him that he’d taken her by surprise. That the rich boy who liked to win had needled his way past the barrier she thought would keep her safe from any man. “I just didn’t feel like dancing.”

      He arched one eyebrow at her again.

      “That’s the most condescending thing I’ve ever seen anyone do,” she said.

      “What?”

      “That lord-of-the-manor eyebrow thing you do.”

      He did it again. “It bothers you?”

      “I just said so.”

      “Good,” he said, caressing her cheek with his fingers.

      “Why good?” she asked, trying to keep her mind off the shivers spreading over her body.

      “Because you seem too removed from life.”

      “I’m in control. Something you should appreciate.”

      “I do. It’s just fun to needle you out of your comfort zone.”

      “Rand, if we are going to have even a slim chance of getting along for our three ‘dates’ you are going to have to remember one thing.”

      “What’s that?” he asked. Putting his hand on her elbow, he moved them out of the traffic path near the bar.

      She waited until she was sure she had his attention. “I’m in charge.”

      “Where did you get that idea?”

      “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it was when I wrote out the check to buy you.”

      “Did you say buy me?” he asked.

      “Do you have a hearing problem? I might have to trade you in.”

      “You’re playing with fire, Cori.”

      Why did he have to call her by that ridiculous nickname? No one had ever given her a nickname. In her first foster home they’d called her Corrine Jane. After that she’d made sure no one knew she had a middle name. When he called her Cori it was as if he was seeing inside her soul to the lonely little girl she’d been. And she didn’t like that.

      “I know how to keep from getting burned,” she said carefully. СКАЧАТЬ