Animosity arced through the air, snapping coils of dangerous electricity that made Ruby’s pulse leap higher. Her gaze slid back to the younger man as if drawn by magnets. She told herself she was trying to decipher what sort of drink to make him but, encountering those broad shoulders again, her mind drifted into impure territory, as it had outside the nightclub in New York.
Focus!
The older man had requested a Sicilian red but instinctively she didn’t think the man she’d concluded was Narciso would go for wine.
Casting her gaze over the bottles of spirits and liqueurs, she quickly measured the required shots, mixed a cocktail and placed it on a tray.
Willing her fingers not to shake, she approached the poker table and placed his drink at his elbow.
He dragged his gaze from the older man long enough to glance from the pale golden drink to her face. ‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘It’s a...Macau Bombshell,’ she blurted out the name she’d come up with seconds ago.
One smooth brow spiked as he leaned back in his seat. ‘Bombshell?’ Once again, his gaze drifted over her, lingered at the place where her dress parted mid-thigh in a long slit. ‘Would you place yourself in that category, too? Because you certainly have the potential.’
Right, so really he was one of those. A Playboy with a capital P.
A man who saw something he coveted and went for it, regardless of who got hurt. The clear image of his hand on another woman made her spine stiffen in negative reaction, even as a tiny part of her acknowledged her disappointment.
Irritated with herself, she pushed the feeling away.
Now she knew what sort of man she was dealing with, things would proceed much smoother.
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she said briskly. ‘It’s all about the drink.’
‘I’ve never heard such a name.’
‘It’s my own creation.’
‘Ah.’ He sipped the champagne, falernum, lemon and pineapple mix. Then he slowly tasted the cocktail without taking his eyes off her. ‘I like it. Bring me one every half-hour on the button until I say otherwise.’
The implication that she could be here for hours caused her teeth to grind. She looked from the dealer to the other players at the table, wondered if she could ask to speak to Narciso privately now.
‘Is there a problem?’ he queried.
She cleared her throat. ‘Well, yes. There are no clocks in this place and I don’t have a watch, so...’
The silver-haired man swore under his breath and moved his shoulders in a blatantly aggressive move.
‘Hold out your hand,’ Narciso said.
Ruby’s eyes widened. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Give me your hand,’ he commanded.
She found herself obeying before she could think not to. He removed an extremely expensive and high-tech-looking watch from his wrist and placed it on her right wrist. The chain link was too large for her but it didn’t mask the warmth from his skin and something jagged and electric sliced through her belly.
When his hand drifted along the inside of her wrist, she bit back a gasp, and snatched her hand back.
‘Now you know when I’ll next need you.’
‘By all means, keep me waiting as you try out your tired pick-up lines,’ the older man snapped with an accent she vaguely recognised.
Silver Eyes shifted his gaze to him. And although he continued to sip his cocktail, the air once again snapped with dark animosity.
‘Ready for another lesson, old man?’
‘If it involves teaching you to respect your betters, then I’m all for it.’
The resulting low laugh from the man next to her sent a shiver dancing over her skin. On decidedly wobbly legs, she retreated behind the bar and forced herself to regulate her breathing.
Whatever she’d experienced when those mesmerising eyes had locked into hers and those long fingers had stroked her was a false reaction. She refused to trust any emotion that could lead her astray.
Focus!
She glanced down at the watch. The timepiece was truly exquisite, a brand she’d heard of and knew was worth a fortune.
Unable to stop herself, she skated her fingers over it, her pulse thundering all over again when she remembered how he’d looked at her before slipping the watch on her wrist. She shifted as heat dragged through her and arrowed straight between her legs.
No!
She wasn’t a slave to her emotions like her parents. And she wasn’t the gullible fool Simon had accused her of being.
She had a goal and a purpose. One she intended to stick to.
Exactly half an hour later, she approached, willing her gaze not to trace those magnificent shoulders. Up close they were even broader, more imposing. When he shifted in his seat, they moved with a mesmerising fluidity that made her want to stop and gawp.