Propositioned?. Kristin Gabriel
himself. Was he as ruthless in love as he was in business? His skills as the CEO of Wolff Enterprises had recently been featured in both the Wall Street Journal and Fortune magazine. Both articles had made the rounds among her fellow bank employees shortly after he’d acquired the parent company of Consolidated Bank.
“You, on the other hand,” he said, leaning closer to her, “probably have too big a heart. Don’t you ever just want to let old granny take care of herself so you can have time to play?”
His words hit the mark closer than she wanted to admit. Her family meant everything to her. That’s why she was here, risking her future, instead of out with her friends celebrating New Year’s Eve. She’d already made some resolutions for the upcoming year. Be spontaneous. Take more risks. Date.
That last one was difficult to do while working two jobs. But her reaction to Michael’s simple flirtation tonight was proof that she’d been out of the dating circuit too long.
Her skin actually tingled when his appreciative gaze once again drifted below her neck. She found herself wondering how his whiskers would feel against her cheek. How his broad hand would feel on her body.
It had been much too long. She needed to put some distance between them before she made a complete fool of herself. “Granny is depending on me.” She motioned toward the buffet table. “I’ll just fill up my basket with some goodies, then be on my way.”
Sarah wanted to kick herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Why had she mentioned the basket? She saw his gaze move toward her arm where the wicker basket hung, its valuable contents hidden beneath the lid. All he had to do was open it to see the vintage blue velvet jewelry case inside. What if he recognized it?
Then all hell would break loose.
Michael grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. He handed one of them to her. “Have a drink with me first. To celebrate the New Year.”
Michael Wolff had already clouded her thinking. The last thing she needed was alcohol. “Thank you,” she replied, setting it back on the tray. “I don’t drink.”
“Such a good girl,” he murmured, a feral glimmer in his gray eyes. Then he lifted the champagne flute to his lips.
She started to contradict him, then realized he was right. She’d been good forever. When you grew up in a household with a sick grandmother and a felonious grandfather, you learned not to make trouble for your parents. So she’d been a straight-A student in school, then paid her own way through college with a series of scholarships, grants and student loans.
When her father’s business had transferred him and her mother to California last year, she’d moved from an apartment back into the family home to take care of her grandfather—a task made all the more difficult when he decided to come out of retirement and start stealing again. Small wonder she had no time for a social life.
Sarah watched Michael’s firm mouth curl around the rim of the crystal flute as he tipped back his head. The muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed, then he lowered the flute, and his feral gray eyes met hers once more. “We had the champagne flown in from France. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
How she wanted to give into temptation. Even the way he drank champagne was sexy. But she couldn’t afford to lose her head, not over champagne and not over Michael.
“I think I do,” she replied, turning away from him. “Goodbye, Mr. Wolff.”
He grasped her elbow, the gentle pressure of his fingers sending a flush of heat through her body. “Dance with me, Red.”
When she hesitated, he moved closer and whispered, “I see Oscar Henley heading my way and if you don’t dance with me I will have to listen to his excruciatingly long audit story again. He’s such an awful storyteller, I actually root for the IRS each time I hear it.”
She smiled. “He does seem to like the sound of his own voice.”
Michael arched a brow. “So you know Oscar?”
Sarah mentally cringed. Oscar was on the board of directors at Consolidated Bank. So much for trying to remain anonymous. Maybe she could bluff her way out of it. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He laughed. “Yes. Whether they want to or not.” Then he pulled her into his arms. “So you have to rescue me.”
“Little Red Riding Hood rescuing the wolf,” she mused, her common sense telling her this was madness, her curiosity making her unable to walk away. “Now that’s a definite twist to the story.”
The music was slow and seductive. He tried to pull her close, but the picnic basket got in the way. Michael gently slipped it off her arm before she could react and a spasm of panic enveloped her. But he simply set the basket on the edge of the bandstand, then turned back to dance with her.
Was she crazy? She never should have let him take the basket away from her. Never should have accepted his invitation to dance. She’d planned to blend into the gold brocade wallpaper this evening, slipping upstairs when the clock struck midnight to complete her mission.
Now she was in his arms, her cheek pressed against his broad, furry shoulder. She closed her eyes as they swayed to the music, thinking he smelled quite nice for a wolf. Spicy and masculine.
Sarah certainly hadn’t planned to capture the attention of big, bad Michael Wolff. But as the evocative music swelled around her, she slowly began to relax. What could one dance hurt? For the past two years, she’d found herself watching Michael Wolff every time he’d walked into Consolidated Bank. Even fantasized about him a little. Okay, a lot. So why not take advantage of the opportunity to fulfill one of those fantasies?
Best of all, she could do it anonymously. Michael would never know the identity of Little Red Riding Hood because she planned to be long gone before the unveiling at midnight.
He tightened his arms around her and his warm breath circled her ear, sending delicious shivers throughout her body. “This is nice.”
“You sound surprised.”
His deep chuckle reverberated in his chest. “I’ve never been a big fan of masquerade parties. I don’t like playing games, especially when it’s so easy to guess who’s behind the mask.” He pulled away slightly to meet her gaze. “Except for you, Red. I have to admit I’m stumped.”
She intended for him to stay that way. If Michael knew her real identity, she’d be booted out the door. The Wolffs and the Hewitts were sworn enemies, at least according to her grandfather. Maybe that’s the reason Michael Wolff had always held such a fascination for her.
Besides, she and Michael lived in completely different worlds. He was crème brûlée while she was cream of wheat. It made the fact that they were dancing together all the more unbelievable.
“Why not just enjoy the fantasy?” she said at last. “No names. No questions. No promises. Just two strangers dancing in the night.”
Heat flashed in his eyes. “In my fantasy, we do more than dance.”
She never should have come here tonight. “Really?”
He lifted one hand and slowly slid the tip of his finger over the curve of her cheek, then across her lower lip. “Like I said before, it’s dangerous in these woods.”
His sensuous touch made her lips tingle. “I’m not afraid.”
“Liar,” he whispered huskily, then cupped her cheek in his broad hand. “But I’ll keep you safe. Just come back with me to my lair.”
She took a deep breath, her heart pounding even harder now, but not with fear. “My, what a big ego you have.”
He smiled. “That’s not all.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Thank you for the invitation, but I think it will be much safer here in the woods.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,