She wanted no such thing.

“Wonderful. Then I’ll bring him to the Beethoven concert,” Clyde said. The law firm Clyde had founded was a lead sponsor of that upcoming charity event, and Sophie hoped to convince him to pour even more of his corporate cash into a community center that was being refurbished in a section of town that had been a hotbed for a local gang many years ago—a street gang that had been rising up again, which made it all the more important to revitalize the neighborhood.

“I can’t wait,” Sophie said as Clyde walked away.

Then her pulse suddenly quickened.

She knew.

Knew the sexy man had to be mere feet from her. She knew it by the way the little hairs on her arms stood on end. Sophie and this man were two elements smashing into each other and setting off sparks. There was no other explanation, because she’d never felt this kind of intense desire for someone she’d just met.

It was a riot inside her body.

He placed a hand on the small of her back—gentle, terribly gentle, and it unleashed an electric charge in her. “Can’t wait for what?” he asked.

Oh God, his voice. His deep, sexy voice that was an aphrodisiac. It was the opening act in the seduction of her.

“For the evening to turn more exciting,” she said as she came face-to-face with the man she knew nothing about. He was the sexiest stranger she’d ever met, and he wasn’t going to be a stranger much longer.

“Looks like I arrived just in time. Because that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Excite me?”

The first notes of a sexy ballad sounded from the stage. “Yes. That’s why I came here,” he said, gesturing to the throngs milling about around them. “Right now, however, I’d like to monopolize you on the dance floor, Miss Sophie Winston.”

“You know my name,” she said, shooting him a look that said she was impressed.

“I do,” he said, holding her captive with his dark blue eyes. “And I’d like to get to know more than your name.”

“That sort of intel might be obtained with a dance,” she said, clasping his hand and letting him lead her to the dance floor as the lights dimmed and the song wrapped itself around them.

Chapter Four

As the slinky, silky Vegas nightclub singer belted out a bluesy number from the stage, the lights in the ballroom dimmed. They turned the bright, silent auction that Ryan had caught the tail end of into a sultry, nighttime affair. The chandeliers flickered, and violet lights shone on the dance floor. Men in tuxes and women in evening dresses moved and swayed; the event reeked of old money and new money, mingling together. This was the cocktail mix of the Vegas built on the bedrock of Rat Pack era casinos, stirred up with the cool swagger of the sleek, skyscraper crowds of today.

Ryan led Sophie to the dance floor, threading their way through the glitz and glam of the dolled-up and dressed-up. She kept her eyes on him as he dropped a hand on her elbow, leaving his palm on her back.

Her skin was so soft. So bare. So fantastically naked in this backless dress as he pulled her near and they began to dance.

“So you made it,” she said.

“I would have been here sooner, but I had to walk my dog.”

She burst out in surprised laughter. “Really?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe it. It just came out sounding like an excuse,” she said as they swayed in time to the jazzy number from the red-sequined woman on stage.

“He’s a very demanding dog. Have you ever met a Border Collie mix? They can be quite needy. And I like to make sure he’s happy.”

“How good of you to think of him.”

“I was thinking of you, too,” he said, his eyes fixed on her as he spoke. “I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

“Is that so?” she asked, but her smile made it seem less like a question. “I figured I’d read you wrong.”

“You didn’t expect me to show up?” He spread his fingers across the bare skin of her back. Goose bumps rose on her flesh.

“One never knows if a man has it in him to respond to an invitation on the street,” she said coyly.

His spine straightened, and he stood even taller. “When a woman like you tells a man she wants him, that man should do everything in his power to show up.”

She moved closer, her sky-blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I don’t believe I said I wanted you,” she whispered.

He bent his head to her ear, catching the faint scent of her perfume. Something vaguely tropical. Something that suggested hot summer nights. He wanted to run his nose along her skin and inhale her. A groan worked its way up his chest. “You didn’t have to say it,” he said.

She shot him a sharp stare, but she didn’t let go of him. “My, my. Aren’t we a little over-confident?”

“Am I?” he asked, letting go to spin her in a circle then tugging her back as the music rose to a crescendo.

“Perhaps I just wanted to make sure the ballroom was full,” she said, gesturing to the crowd. “Maybe that’s why I invited you.”

“Is that what you wanted? One more attendee at your event?”

She swallowed and parted her lips. “Maybe I want other things.”

She pressed her hand against his shoulder, and the pressure from that slight touch sent electricity flying through him. He stopped swaying and dipped her, holding her in that pose, her back bent in an arc, her body draped over his arm, trusting him. “Tell me, Sophie. What other things do you want?”

He watched her like that as he waited for her answer. Her eyes never wavered from his. There was no shyness in her gaze, no nerves evident in her expression. Only confidence, which was so damn alluring. She licked her lips then answered, “A man who can figure those things out.”

Oh, hell yeah. This woman turned him on fiercely. She was direct and naughty at the same time. He raised her up. Her full breasts were flush with his chest, and he was sure he could spend hours worshipping them. Or biting them. Or fucking them. “I can figure out all those things you want. I can deliver all of them, too. But right now? Here on the dance floor? I presume this is when you need me to role play at being a perfect gentleman,” he said, casting his gaze briefly at the crowds dancing alongside them.

“So you wouldn’t be a gentleman if we weren’t in front of all these people?”

“I would absolutely not be a gentleman at all,” he said, letting his hand travel along her back. “But for the moment, you have your donors here to entertain.”

She raised her chin and looked at him studiously. “You did your homework, Mister—” Then she laughed and cut herself off, placing a finger over his lips. “Don’t tell me your name. I prefer to think of you as the Man with the Green Tie. So we can pretend we hardly know each other. We can be strangers.”

“Strangers can make the best lovers.”

“Are you? A good lover?”

“I don’t really think you want me to answer that question.”

“Why on earth wouldn’t I want the answer to that?” she asked, toying with his tie, her voice a purr that lit up his organs, setting every last part of him on fire.

He shook his head. Pressed his lips near her ear. Whispered. “I think you’d rather I show you.”

She gasped, an enticing sound that ignited him. His body was strung tight, like a snare drum. He was torn between wanting to pounce on her now, and drawing out the anticipation. Making her want him. Making her beg. He was willing to bet she was a marvelous beggar, that she could get on her knees and say please in a voice that snapped all his restraint.

“Show me,” she whispered, then her eyes floated closed as he touched her, fingertips brushing her back. They traveled higher, and she arched into his hand, like a cat being pet. He reached her hair, winding a loose, blonde strand around his index finger, cataloguing the expression on her face, the way her features were so soft, so open—her lips parted, her eyes closed, her breath gentle.