A man
entered through double doors, standing almost in pose as they closed
silently behind him. His sharp gray eyes scanned the room in a split
second as he sauntered over to the bar. Tamara paused as she brought
her glass to her lips.
Someone
interesting, fun and with an edge of danger, just what the doctor
ordered for a dreary evening. She wet her lips and took a deep drink
that slid down with fingers of warmth.
The
man was simply dressed in a dark blue mandarin collared jacket and
dark gray trousers. It was a subdued expression of elegance and
wealth. He ordered a drink, a clear martini without the frills, and
with a polite nod in her direction, sat down nearby.
“I
haven’t seen you here before,” Boudreaux remarked casually.
He smiled and turned towards her. If
her heart were one degree warmer, she would have melted easily under
that glow, but instead it filled her with apprehension. This was the
kind of man who was used to getting what he wanted, without seeming
to work for it.
“You
haven’t.” His voice was smooth as silk sliding across the most
sensitive parts of her body, and his fingers played lightly around
the wide lip of the glass. The sensuality of it sent shivers down
Boudreaux’s spine. Her eyes narrowed. She was not used to being
manipulated, and she recognized a master.
“You’re
very full of yourself, aren’t you?” A little rudeness in
unexpected company was useful.
He
chuckled; the sound was like music and his eyes fixed hers with
sudden intensity. “Professor Boudreaux, if you play with me, it
will be fun, but I doubt if you will like the results.”
His
body remained relaxed and his expression was one of amusement. The
fingers continued their seductive tracing of the glass.
“Do
you have to do that?” she asked with irritation.
The
fingers stopped and his head tilted slightly as he regarded her.
“Does it bother you?”
Boudreaux’s
quick mind measured his response and his manner. Her voice became
seductive and flattering, a queen going into battle. “Why do I have
the feeling you knew it would?”
“Are
you always this paranoid with strangers?” His eyes twinkled and he
never lost the light, agreeable air.
“Only
manipulative ones.” Boudreaux put her glass down, her insides
warming with the heat of battle. This man did not have the delicious
vulnerability of Adrian. He was a different sort of morsel and just
as intelligent; and there was a knife-edge that fascinated her.
“Your
colors are showing,” he said casually, as he brought the martini up
and rolled the thin stem between his fingers. Boudreaux’s face was
distorted on the clear surface.
The
Professor’s teeth clenched in a tight smile as she suppressed a
shudder of discomfort and excitement. It felt as if he had just
stripped her bare and those sensuous fingers that so expertly ringed
the glass, were poised to touch her. Her spinning head was giving her
visions of throwing him over the table. She shook her head and
answered his challenge. “And so are yours.”
“Ah. But I wanted
you to see mine.”
