The Truth About Scorpios
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?"
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."