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The Truth About Scorpios

Maria Lyonesse

The Truth About Scorpios

The first thing Rhianna did after unpacking was to head for the hotel bar. It had been an exhausting drive up from London. The least the company could do was to turn a blind eye to a few extras on her expense account.

The place was more crowded than she'd expected it be. Her delegates weren't due to arrive until the following morning. But the room was filled with unfamiliar faces and bodies in vivid, unconventional clothes.


            

As she stood waiting at the bar, she gradually became aware of the man standing with his back to her. The dark hair was almost shoulder length but she was sure it was a man. The narrowness of the tight hips that lurked under the bright, baggy patchwork trousers so maddeningly close to hers, the faintest brush could seem like an accident . . . Rhianna drew breath sharply. Never before had she felt that reckless stab of desire for a total stranger.

And then he turned to look at her. Coolly and directly as if he knew she'd been watching him. The blue of his eyes was pure acetylene. Then a slight smile played on his lips and he turned away again.

"Excuse me," she began uncertainly. "You're not one of the people on my marketing seminar, are you?"


             

He turned and smiled curiously at her again. As she waited for his answer, a peculiar scent seemed to loosen itself from his clothes and seek her out. Subtle, spicy, exotic, a world away from the expensive, cloying aftershave of men she mixed with every day. Vaguely, she thought it must be incense. She took a deep, deep breath as the scent swarmed into her, tingling in her nostrils and quickening her pulse as it went. She'd never imagined that even the lungs could be an erogenous zone.

"No," he replied eventually. "I'm here for an astrologers' symposium. I'm afraid we seem to have double-booked the same set of conference rooms."

The Truth About Scorpios (c) Copyright, Maria Lyonesse, 2001