“Mr. Burke—”
“When you say my name like that I can’t object,” he murmured.
She blinked. Did his dates usually fall for a line like that? Her gaze skimmed over his broad shoulders. The black tuxedo hugged his muscles. Yes, she decided. They fell. But not just for his words.
“There’s been a mistake,” she said firmly.
“Best one I’ve made in a while.” He raised his glass to his lips and downed the remaining champagne.
“Sir,” she began again, drawing her shoulders back. Her breasts strained against the strips of fabric and the cutout expanded. His gaze followed the lines of the dress.
“Carter,” she continued. He looked up at his name. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Oh, no?” he said mildly. “You’re not my wildest adventure to date?”
Her tapping fingers stilled against her flute. “What?”
“That’s precisely what you look like, Ms. Grant. A mystery waiting to be unraveled.” He reached out and took her glass. Then he returned the flutes to the table and offered his arm. “Shall we move on to the gala?”
So he wanted suspense. Fine, then. Later, when he learned who she was and why she was in his office, she would remind him that he’d asked for mystery. She’d merely played her part.
“I hope my enigmatic nature can tempt you to dance,” she murmured as she placed her hand on his forearm.
“Whatever happens tonight, Ms. Grant, you are by far the most intriguing woman I’ve met in a long time.”
Just wait until I start talking science.
Chapter 6
Ivy Grant walked through the hotel lobby with the confidence of a vengeful angel. Her long blond hair spilled over her shoulders in a cascade of perfect ringlets. She’d traded her sparkling lipstick for a nude gloss. And her gown…
The dress was reminiscent of her lips. Intriguing. Exciting. The material’s sheer fabric flowed around her long limbs, offering a tease of the woman beneath the skirts.
He drew her close to his side, her right hand still resting on his arm. But she slowed as they approached the steps leading down to the hotel bar.
She’s nervous.
“Would you like another drink before we enter the ballroom?” he asked. He wasn’t eager to join the who’s who of New York’s social elite, or share the angel on his arm with a roomful of acquaintances.
“Yes, please.”
He turned and guided her across the lobby’s black-and-white checkered floor. Inside the Art Deco space, a golden bar beckoned from the end of the marble path. He took a right and led Ivy over to a two-top tucked behind a square pillar. A marble fireplace flickered at his back as he drew out a green velvet-lined chair.
“Thank you.” She settled into the chair, her gown shimmering under the soft light from the crystal chandelier overhead. He stepped back before he gave in to the temptation to run his hand over her bare shoulder.
A tourist proudly wearing his I ? NY t-shirt sat at the bar, and a couple dressed for a night out in the Big Apple huddled around a table across the marble walkway. In the far corner, a jazz pianist played. The waiter appeared and handed Ivy a tall, slim drink menu.
“Champagne, please.” Ivy pointed to a listing at the bottom. “This one.”
“I’ll have the Never See It Coming,” he said.
She scanned the list and glanced up at him as the waiter slipped away. “Pineapple vodka?”
“They make it in-house.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s refreshing.”
“And apparently frothy,” she said, glancing back at the menu. Then she set the list aside. “You’re full of surprises.”
“I could say the same about you.” His gaze followed the fabric draped over her shoulder. The silver tulle screamed “glamour,” and was seemingly at odds with the fact that she technically worked in his lab. He was once again reminded of the risk he had taken to be with her tonight.