Prologue
She was dazzled. It was not just the glittering chandeliers hanging from a concave ceiling. Nor was it the shimmer of lights running through the Ficus and palm trees tucked discreetly into the four corners of the room.
It was the atmosphere, the ambience. The magic and the crowd. Women shone with stones that vied with the brilliance of the overhead lights.
Men moved through the room with quiet confidence, their tailored suits adding to the sense of elegance and anticipation. Soft music floated through the air, mingling with laughter and whispered conversations that hinted at secrets yet to unfold.
The entire space seemed alive, as if every detail had been carefully designed to heighten the sense of possibility and romance.
And it was romantic. To the twenty-three-year-old Abigail Blake, it was pure and sensuous delight. She was fresh out of college, this was her first big bash as an adult.
She had loved the time away; higher education was something she had looked forward to. Nose buried in beloved books, chin propped on folded hands as she took in the professor'smelodious tones describing a scene from Dickens "A Tale of Two Cities."
The excitement of sharing a tiny apartment off campus with her best friend Jillian.
But college was behind her now. Armed with two degrees, one in literature of course and the other in business (She had every intention of one day running the slew of bookstores the family owned!), she was ready to conquer the world.
But tonight, this magical night in the beginning of June, was for letting go and enjoying herself. Her twin brother had already deserted her. As soon as they entered the vast ballroom, he had made a beeline for the open bar.
She was going to stick to champagne, she decided. Her parents looking resplendent in their formal wear were chatting up the author of the bestselling book that was going to be turned into a movie.
Plucking a flute from the waiter zipping through the crowd, she tried not to gawk. She could see several celebrities mingling with the various politicians as well as movers and shakers in the industries. Some were members of The Elite Club, that exclusive society of billionaires her father occasionally mentioned in hushed, reverent tones.
She would play it cool. She certainly did not want to appear gauche and unsophisticated. And she had every intention of having the time of her life.
Across the room, Kincaid Tyrell was looking for a way to shake off the blonde clinging to his arm like a leech. The excitement had gone out of the relationship, and it was time to call it quits.
He caught the knowing glance his brother threw him and tried not to grimace. Kevin was going steady and was practically engaged. Their sister, the youngest of the lot was barely twenty-one and was openly flirting with a buff and overblown actor, who was staring at her in a daze.
Cade wondered if the poor bastard knew that she was reeling him in like a fish. Detaching himself carefully from the blonde, he was about to turn towards the bar, when he caught sight of her.
Laser blue eyes wandered over the tidy little figure draped in black. And noticed the large mahogany eyes. A long, graceful neck gave way to surprisingly generous bosom, the material straining against flesh.
Instant lust plowed through his body and had him turning towards her.
He had to make several stops along the way and did his best to mask his irritation. He was Kincaid Tyrell after all, and the family was the one hosting this party. So, he plied on the charms as old ladies as well as younger ones, preened and touched as well as tried to get him onto the dance floor.
By the time he reached her, she was surrounded by men vying for her attention.
"I believe you promise me this dance." Maneuvering smoothly, he cut through the line and took her hand, his smile dazzling her.
Abby felt her pulse leaping in response and struggled to appear as if she had not been struck by lightning. She recognized him of course. Who didn't know Kincaid Paul Tyrell?
He had graced several magazine covers and was often photographed with a different woman every week. She wasn't too young to realize that she should stay away from men like him.
"That was a lie." She finally found her voice as he swept her fluidly onto the dance floor.
His smile came; white teeth flashing against perfectly tanned skin and had her body melting. He was gorgeous. She could not think of another word to describe him.
His dense dark hair was artfully tousled, strands tumbling over his forehead. His eyes were very blue and seemed to dive into your very soul. His body was long and lean with defined muscles.
She had seen a photo of him in Sports Illustrated wearing a low-slung white shorts and holding a tennis racket. His belly was washboard flat.
He was also tall. Abby was often teased about her height. She was a hundred and five soaking wet and was two ounces over five feet. She made up for that lack by wearing very high heels.
She had on one now and just came up to his shoulders.
"I read your mind." He was fascinated with her eyes, not just the color, but the shape and the wide innocence in them.
