“Look at this place,” she murmured. “It’s incredible.”
“This way, if you would, please, ma’am,” one of the guards said to Kaya. The muscular, red-haired man gestured toward the metal detectors and full body scanners temporarily erected in the elegant entry of the Rousseau mansion.
Aric lingered behind her as she placed her small handbag on the conveyor then glided through the gauntlet of cold machinery, a vision in shimmering, diaphanous blush-colored silk. His veins throbbed as he watched her graceful, unrushed gait, his blood still pounding from the aftershocks of that impulsive kiss.
To say nothing of the rest of his anatomy.
Kissing her had not been in the playbook for this mission, but once the idea took root in his mind, there had been no ignoring it. Yes, he’d done it for the good of their cover, as a means of breaking the ice between him and the fake Mrs. Bouchard. But now she had regrouped flawlessly and he was the one knocked off his game.
Damn.
So not what he’d intended.
It took concentrated control to keep his body’s reaction in check. His fangs ached to punch out of his gums. All over him, hisdermaglyphsprickled to life in response to watching Kaya while the memory of their kiss still scorched his lips.
Desire tinged his vision with the first hints of amber as she raised her arms and waited for the scanner to clear her for passage. The stretch lifted her already buoyant breasts and thinned her slender waist to an hourglass curve that made his hands itch to be wrapped around it.
He groaned low under his breath. It wouldn’t take more than a backward glance from her now to transform his irises from gold-flecked green to an unearthly molten glow.
He’d better check himself fast, or he was going to blow this operation before it even began. Nothing like turning full-on Breed to put the brakes on a gathering of perfumed and powdered humans.
“Sir?” The guard standing beside him in the foyer gave him an expectant look. “Please, step forward and proceed to the scanner.”
“Oh.” Aric cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
He followed the path Kaya had taken before him, then joined her where she waited on the other side of the machines. With the stern discipline of his warrior training, he somehow managed to tamp down the Breed side of his nature by the time he and Kaya approached the short line of attendees being greeted personally by the bride’s parents.
Anastasia Rousseau’s father took hold of Aric’s hand and gave it a couple of perfunctory pumps as soon as he released the previous guest. “Good afternoon and welcome.”
“Thank you, sir.” Aric nodded to the gray-haired billionaire and smiled at his immaculately preserved wife. “Congratulations on a beautiful day. Elizabeth and I couldn’t be happier for Stasi.”
“How kind. Thank you.” Mrs. Rousseau’s fine brows rose on her unlined face. “Are you a friend of our daughter’s?”
“Stasi and I went to university together for a while,” Aric said, putting Gideon’s cover dossier to good use as he shook the elder woman’s hand. “I’m William Bouchard. Er, Will. And this is my bride, Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Rousseau smiled warmly. “How do you do, dear?”
“Fine, thank you. Everything looks so beautiful in here, Mrs. Rousseau,” Kaya said, not missing a beat as she shook the woman’s hand. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve done outside for the reception.”
“Why, thank you, my dear. I do enjoy dabbling.”
“You do a bit more than dabble,” Kaya pointed out. “Congratulations on your interior design award last month. The magazine couldn’t have chosen a more deserving recipient.”
“What a lovely thing to say.” The bride’s mother beamed. “How wonderful that you both could make it today. I’m sure Anastasia will be delighted.”
The old man smiled, too, but he studied Aric longer than he had the other guests ahead of him. “Was it McGill you said you attended with her, son?”
“No, sir. UBC. It was my grandfather’s alma mater as well.” He tilted a wry look at Phillipe Rousseau. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but your father the Prime Minister and my grandfather were rivals on the soccer field in their day.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid it is.” Aric grinned through the lie, thankful for the depth of Gideon’s research. “I hope you won’t hold that against me now.”
“Not at all.” The bride’s father chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on and enjoy the reception, both of you.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
Grinning, he took Kaya’s hand and led her away from the Rousseaus. Now that the seeds of their social groundwork had been laid, they had some time to scope out the terrain they’d be working once the reception was under way.
