Page 13 of You'll Find Out
His was an interesting profile, contoured in smooth angles and planes. His eyes were deepset and very black, the color of midnight. His jaw was strong and square, with the slight trace of a dimple cleaving it, and his nose was extra straight. There was the beginning of laugh lines around his eyes and lips, and an amused twinkle in his eye sparkled as he sauntered over to Mara.
For a hushed moment there was an awkward silence between them, and finally, out of embarrassment, Mara dragged her eyes away from his. She swirled the untouched drink in her hand and gazed at the small whirlpool she created, hoping that she didn’t appear as nervous and out of place as she felt.
The man leaned against the counter that separated kitchen from family room and startled Mara by uttering a curse under his breath. “God, I hate these kinds of parties, don’t you?” he asked, studying her and taking a long swallow from his drink.
“Birthday parties?” she repeated, thinking the question strange. She shrugged dismissively. “No . . . they’re all right, I guess.”
His lips formed a grim sort of smile and his eyes reached out for hers. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t have anything against a birthday celebration—usually.”
Mara was clearly confused, and her bewilderment showed on her delicate face. She shook her head negatively, and her blond hair brushed against her neck. “You’re right, I don’t understand.”
“You really don’t, do you?” he inquired, obviously amazed. Her subtle innocence intrigued him.
“If you would just tell me what you’re talking about,” she suggested, a bit sarcastically, and feeling as if he was playing some sort of private game with her.
“Don’t you get it? Look around you. Do you notice anything different about us?” He waved his hand expansively, including the rest of the guests in the room.
“Aboutus?”she echoed as her eyes glanced toward the other people in the room. Suddenly it dawned on her, and she felt herself blush. “Oh, I see,” she mumbled, and discovered that she couldn’t meet his dark, probing gaze.
“Damn that Bob Brandon and his wife! They’re always trying to get me matched up with somebody!” His jaw clenched and Mara felt an uncontrollable urge to run. She could see as plainly as he that she had been set up as the only single woman to naturally balance the one odd man out. That explained why Sandra Brandon had been so insistent that she attend the party. When Mara had attempted to make excuses yesterday at the office, Sandra had become positively demanding that Mara attend. It was evident now why Sandra had been so insistent. Sandra liked everything in life even, and in her mind there was no such thing as an unattached male.
Shane finished his drink with a flourish and placed the empty glass on the counter. Mara could see that he was trying to control his irritation with the uncomfortable situation. At first she imagined that he was disappointed that she was his date, but his next statement changed her opinion.
“Well, if Bob and Sandy think that I need their assistance in my love life, who am I to argue?” He smiled mockingly. “How about a dance?”
Mara was embarrassed, uncomfortable, and angry with Sandra. She didn’t need any man thinking that hehadto keep her entertained for the evening. She tried vainly to get out of the dance. “You don’t have to . . . I mean I . . .”
“You mean ‘yes,’ don’t you?” His dark eyes brooked no argument and he pushed her carefully into the center of the room. The music was soft, barely discernable over the din of the party, and Mara felt stupidly self-conscious, as if she were trying to draw attention to herself. But the moment that the tall man with the strangely appealing eyes wrapped his arms over her and held her intimately against him, she forgot the rest of the guests. It was as if all of her senses were immediately electrified, and the soft, sultry music filtered over the slightly boisterous noise of the crowd to encompass her and the powerful man who held her.
At first her movements were stiff, but as Shane pressed more closely to her, she felt herself begin to relax and mold to the warmth of his long, lean body. His hand at the small of her back guided her. Her head rested lightly against the soft fabric of his shirt, and she closed her eyes to listen to the beating of his heart. She heard a controlled, rhythmic beat, unlike the pulsating drumming in her rib cage.
When her eyes fluttered open for an instant, she noticed Sandy Brandon smiling smugly at the sight of her wrapped in Shane’s strong arms. Color darkened Mara’s cheeks, but she couldn’t help but feel totally at ease with the stranger. They danced together, their bodies swaying with the music, for what seemed both an instant and an eternity. When the tempo of the songs quickened, Shane pulled Mara by the wrist toward the door.
“Let’s find a spot that’s not so crowded,” he decided with a husky voice.
“What do you mean?” she inquired cautiously, and her breath seemed too tight for her throat.
A smile blazed across his tanned face. “I’m suggesting that we leave.”
“Together?” she blurted incredulously.
“Of course together,” he whispered. “Otherwise our plan wouldn’t work, would it?”
“What plan?”
“Well,” he drawled, eyeing the crowd with apparent disdain, “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of Sandy Brandon playing the role of matchmaker in my life.”
“I don’t see how you can hope to change her. She’s an incurable romantic who adores fixing people up.”
“Doesn’t she, though,” he observed dryly. “Maybe we can change all that, at least in our case.”
“How?” Mara asked, bewildered.
“You’ll see,” he stated enigmatically. “Do you have a coat?”
Mara couldn’t resist the intrigue of the moment. And the look on Sandy Brandon’s surprised face as she spied Mara leaving with Shane was worth the gamble of leaving with a complete stranger.
Shane and Mara left together in the flash and roar of his sports car. At the time Mara told herself that she was being careless and throwing caution to the wind—acting completely out of her usually shy and reserved character. All for the sake of a practical joke, or so she tried to convince herself. If she had been honest with herself, she would have had to confess to falling prey to an attraction that she had never before experienced. The dark-eyed stranger was bewitching.
