“No need to sound quite so shocked.There isn’t that much to do in the embassy, and the TV offers endless classes.”
And escape from reality, he guessed.“Don’t you ever get out?”
“I’m wheeled out for events like this.”
Wheeled out?As the pieces of the jigsaw began to fit together into a much better picture than anticipated, he regarded his bride-to-be with fractionally more warmth.
“You’d be surprised at what I’m good at,” she told him dryly.
“I look forward to more surprises.”
Tango was a passionate dance that told a story and called for close contact.Something in the music gripped them both, turning a flicker of understanding into a raging fire.They took the combat element of tango as far as they could.He’d yank her close; she’d spring back with a look that could tempt a monk to break his vows.Weaving her legs between his in short, sharp moves, Karolina made sure never to make contact for long.If her aim was to tease and frustrate, she’d succeeded.
His palate was jaded where women were concerned, but Karolina put every taste bud he possessed on high alert.The body contact between them might be minimal, but by the time the dance ended, he had registered every curve and pouting portion of her, as well as Karolina’s heat and urgency to mate.
She was magnificent.Every head had turned their way.Solo, Karolina was a sight to behold, but the two of them had generated enough electricity to fire the national grid.But this was more than a dance.It was a battle of wills, and an outlet for Karolina’s passion.This was no pampered princess, but a resilient woman who knew her own mind.A worthy mate?Possibly.He appreciated the irony.
When the last chord struck, Karolina rested so low over his arm that her hair brushed the floor.There was deathly silence until her father began the applause, which grew in volume and enthusiasm until it was deafening.Cheers and shouts ofbravo!accompanied them all the way back to their table.
“Do you train every day in the gym?”he asked with genuine interest as they sat down again.“I mean in addition to your dance classes.You felt like an athlete in my arms.”
“Do you hold many athletes in your arms?”she inquired dryly.
“I’m an athlete myself.”
“Of course.Polo.”She spoke as if she didn’t think polo required the amount of training he undertook daily.
“Polo is a demanding sport.”
“I’m sure.”Her gaze was bold and took in his rock-hard muscles, or what she could see of them straining beneath his shirt.
This was becoming increasingly interesting.There was more to this woman than he had imagined.How much more remained to be seen.One thing was certain: she had his interest.
Dancing with Conor had been an exercise in failed restraint.Having started out with the intention of going through the motions of a dance, she had found an outlet for her pent-up tensions instead.But who was Conor Murphy?Who was he really?If his sole interest was to exchange polo ponies for a convenient wife, he was no use to her, but if there was even a hint of decency about him, there was the possibility that she could enlist him as an ally.
“Thanks for the penetrating glare,” Conor remarked, catching her out when she gave him an assessing look.“You could bring down the walls of a fortress with that glance alone.”
“Your fortress?”
“Ah, I’m a little harder to breach.”
“I can imagine.”
“It’s to be hoped not.”
They stared at each other for a potent beat too long, then, angling his stubble-shaded chin, Conor said, “We still haven’t got to the bottom of how you come to be in such good shape when you’re onlywheeled outoccasionally.”
“There’s a great gym here.When my father’s men aren’t using it, I amuse myself.”
“I’d say you do more than that.”
“Okay, I’m super fit,” she admitted.“What of it?”
“Super fit for a purpose?”
“Self-respect.”
He had no answer to that, so she told him a little more.“I’m working on perfecting Taekwondo and Krav Maga.”
