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.”