‘Do you?’
‘No,’ Rose admitted, ‘but you should.’
‘Why is that?’ Loosening his grip, Raffa stood back.
‘The god of polo getting off with his groom?’ she said bluntly. ‘How will that play in the society press?’
‘I really don’t care, and neither should you.’
‘I’m only trying to protect you,’ she protested.
One sweeping ebony brow lifted. ‘Do I look as if I need protecting?’
‘You look...’
Like every woman’s dream lover—tall, dark and handsome, with more than a hint of danger about you. A gold hoop in your ear and that thick, unruly black hair, which, together with your deep tan and formidable build, makes you look more like a gladiator than a tech billionaire with a talent for playing polo.
‘Well?’ Raffa prompted.
‘You look fine to me,’ Rose teased with a one-shouldered shrug.
‘Fine? Is that all you can find to say about me?’
‘What more do you expect?’ Rose frowned through a grin as Raffa’s lips pressed down in the most attractive way.
‘As we’re clearly not going to bed, will you dance with me, Rose?’
The gladiator and the stable maid? That could work. If she could stretch her imagination for the span of a dance. Angling her chin, she stared up into his ridiculously handsome face. ‘You really don’t care what people think, do you?’
‘Correct.’
The expression in her boss’s eyes and the little tug at the corner of his mouth were all it took for heat to surge from Rose’s toes to her belly with long stops in-between.
‘The sun’s going down,’ Raffa observed, glorious eyes narrowed as he stared out to sea. ‘We’d better dance, Cinderella, before you disappear.’
‘Cinderella?’ Rose queried with an ironic look.
Raffa held her gaze in a way that made everything riot inside her. Countering that feeling, she made up her mind and lifted her chin. ‘Why not? Let’s give them something to talk about.’
Rose led the way, but Raffa’s hand was in the small of her back like an incendiary device for the senses. When they reached the dance floor, he dipped his head to murmur in her ear, ‘There goes the bride and her new husband, so your duties are officially over. You’ve no excuse not to dance with me now, and, as I’m giving you the rest of the evening off, you’re free to enjoy yourself any way you like.’
‘Monopolise the chocolate fountain?’ she suggested. ‘Joke?’ she added dryly in answer to Raffa’s narrow-eyed stare.
‘Okay, so you paid me back,’ he conceded. Tilting his head, he regarded her in a way that made the heat in her body rush upwards to join the heat in her face. ‘There’s a lot of life left in this party,’ he commented. ‘Unless there’s some other way you’d like to enjoy yourself?’
‘Safely?’ Rose suggested pointedly. ‘Shall we dance?’ Before this situation gets any trickier. ‘Take care of my toes. I kicked off my shoes,’ she warned. And then some devil got into her. ‘I’d easily tower over you if I’d kept them on.’
Raffa laughed. ‘Yeah, right. You’d still fit under my chin.’
The borrowed shoes had killed her, so Rose had ditched them as soon as she could, but now it felt as if she were about to launch herself into the arms of a giant. ‘One dance only,’ she stressed. ‘If you can brave the curious and green-with-envy brigade, so can I.’
‘Am I so popular?’
‘I’m talking about me,’ she shot back teasingly. ‘Do you know how lucky you are, to be dancing with Rose Kelly, when everyone knows I prefer the company of horses?’
‘I’m honoured you’re making an exception, in that case.’
Raffa’s second mock bow made everyone stop and stare. Rose hid her smile at the thought of the great Raffa Acosta dancing with Rose Kelly from a small farm in Killarney. The four Acosta brothers and their sister, Sofia, were known the world over for their brilliant minds, skill on horseback and the capacity for accumulating wealth, second to none. And here she was, flaunting herself with the best-looking brother. It seemed incredible. Maybe it was. ‘Are you using me?’ she asked suspiciously.
