head, to survive at the head of a multinational corporation.
He grinned. “After that. I thought, to be precise, Fuck, God damn it, that’s cold. And then I thought if there was ever in this world a woman who could take anything I threw at her, it would be you, Anne Winters. So why the hell have I spent so much time enjoying those fantasies of you only in the privacy of my own room? It’s almost selfish, when you think about it.”
She stared at him. Her whole world whirled, and all that whirling seemed to concentrate itself in her erogenous zones. Little spirals, twirling, twirling, twirling, pressing against her nipples, stirring in her sex, and yes, twisting over the nape of her neck. Fantasies of her? That he’d been enjoying in the privacy of his own room? “What fantasies?” she asked icily.
He grinned. “Oh, good. You want to know.”
“Oh, no, I damn well do not, Mack Corey.” She ducked under his arm, while her breasts and her sex beat the lie at her, and started to walk away.
A hand caught her arm and swung her right back. She stared at it and then up at him with an incredulity somewhat akin to if he had reached out and drawn a finger down one of the wedding cakes right in front of her and then licked the icing off. “Told you that you’d run,” he said, with that glittering challenge in his eyes. “Of course, the problem with running is that then somebody can catch you.”
“I want you to go sleep this off, and then we’ll talk again tomorrow morning,” she said between her teeth.
“Can’t. It’s our dance.” He pulled her toward the floor.
“What do you mean it’s our—”
“I danced with Jaime. I danced with Cade. Now I get to dance with my date. Before Dad grabs you.”
Anne almost smiled at that. It was true that Jack Corey usually insisted she dance at least once with him. He liked to dance, and he had a healthy fear of twenty-year-olds, too. It’s creepy, he complained . They’re like vampires. Going for the old rich guy because they’re hoping I’ll die fast.
Then he would wink at her. Now, the last I read, the rule of thumb for a man was he could date anyone half his age plus seven years, so that makes you and me perfect, right? Honestly, you’re too old for me.
Jack Corey was a handful.
“Fine,” Anne said, but only because Mack was a fantastic dancer. As soon as she rested one hand on his shoulder, one hand in his, her whole body relaxed, ready to glide around this floor in perfect harmony of movement for hours. “But if you talk anymore, don’t sue me for damages later.”
“Not a peep.” He gave her a cat-got-the-canary smile. “I’ll just think.”
She stared at him. And then drew a deep breath for patience, and also in the determined hope to breathe all those thoughts he’d stirred up out of her own body and just release them into the atmosphere. Leaving her calm, clear, clean. Like a sea breeze had swept through her and restored her peace.
His hand pressed firm on the small of her back and guided her in close for a turn to get them started. She smiled up at him automatically, because dancing with him always made her smile, and then she remembered that she wasn’t in a smiling mood. In fact, she was very close to dumping one of his son-in-law’s friends’ chocolate structures on his head, which would have the added benefit of removing a disruption to her wedding cake arrangements. Possibly erase some of that smug “I am the most perfectionistic genius in the world” arrogance off their faces, too. No, I am, kids.
True to his word, Mack didn’t speak. He just watched her with a little smile on his face and intent blue eyes and—danced. Danced with power and control and confidence, with grace and strength.
But…here was the thing about Mack. He was the most powerful man in the place, easily. And he knew it. He knew how to dance, and he knew how to control her. But if she wanted to do something—a spin or a dip or just shift the direction of
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