The Truth About Scorpios
The first thing Rhianna did after unpacking was to head for the
hotel bar. It had been an exhausting drive up from London. The least
the company could do was to turn a blind eye to a few extras on
her expense account.
The place was more crowded than she'd expected it be. Her delegates
weren't due to arrive until the following morning. But the room
was filled with unfamiliar faces and bodies in vivid, unconventional
clothes.
As she stood waiting at the bar, she gradually became aware of the
man standing with his back to her. The dark hair was almost shoulder
length but she was sure it was a man. The narrowness of the tight
hips that lurked under the bright, baggy patchwork trousers so maddeningly
close to hers, the faintest brush could seem like an accident .
. . Rhianna drew breath sharply. Never before had she felt that
reckless stab of desire for a total stranger.
And then he turned to look at her. Coolly and directly as if he
knew she'd been watching him. The blue of his eyes was pure acetylene.
Then a slight smile played on his lips and he turned away again.
"Excuse me," she began uncertainly. "You're not one of the people
on my marketing seminar, are you?"
He turned and smiled curiously at her again. As she waited for his
answer, a peculiar scent seemed to loosen itself from his clothes
and seek her out. Subtle, spicy, exotic, a world away from the expensive,
cloying aftershave of men she mixed with every day. Vaguely, she
thought it must be incense. She took a deep, deep breath as the
scent swarmed into her, tingling in her nostrils and quickening
her pulse as it went. She'd never imagined that even the lungs could
be an erogenous zone.
"No," he replied eventually. "I'm here for an astrologers' symposium.
I'm afraid we seem to have double-booked the same set of conference
rooms."