Page 18 of Cinderella's One-Night Baby

Until he’d said those words she’d been fully aware of the growing attraction between them, of course she had, as aware as she’d ever been of anything in her life, but she’d been able to contain it by the skin of her teeth. Saying those words, bringing it out into the open for the first time...

And then that caress of his cheek against hers. She didn’t think she could have reacted more strongly if he’d kissed her, which was the wrong thing to think as now she was thinking about his sensuous lips again and her pelvis was contracting painfully... No, not painfully. The ache deep within her wasn’t pain.

The myriad of waiting staff now carried trays of tall cocktail glasses filled to the brim with colourful liquid, and Gabrielle gladly helped herself to a pink one and drank deeply through its straw. So wrapped up were her thoughts on Andrés that she barely tasted it, and whatever alcohol it contained did nothing to help.

Unexpected help though, came from two couples of around Andrés’s age who beetled over to them. Before she knew what was happening, Gabrielle had been forced to disentangle her hand from his elbow so they could both be enveloped in embraces and air kisses. The banter and familiarity amongst them made it obvious that these were his friends, not just acquaintances, and when names of introduction were thrown at her, she was too busy alternating between the relief of being part of a pack and no longer the sole focus of Andrés’s attention, and longing for him to steer her away to a private table for two to listen properly.

Heaven help her, as desperately as she knew nothing could happen between them, already she wanted time to reverse back to the banquet and those magical hours when it had felt like she and Andrés were the only two people in the world. Back to those magical hours before he’d let the Genie out and Gabrielle had realised just how much danger she was in.

CHAPTER SIX

THEATMOSPHEREINthe ballroom was dramatically different to the formality of the banquet room. The room itself was twice its size and positively oozed glamour, the disco music pumping out and the effects of multiple disco balls hanging from the impossibly high ceiling giving it a real retro vibe.

An abundance of round tables encircled the sprawling dance floor, and when the group bagged one as a base, Gabrielle copied the other women in throwing her clutch bag onto it then helped herself to another pink cocktail. She was sure her tongue should be rhapsodising about it as it had done with the wine but her tastebuds seemed to have gone on strike.

The dance floor was already half filled with people shaking their moves and she gladly followed the women of their newly formed group onto it, leaving the men to continue whatever they were discussing.

She sensed Andrés’s gaze following her every step.

It took all her willpower not to look back at him.

The physical space away from him was just what she needed and, in the company of women who were clearly on a mission to party the night away, she made sure to position herself with her back to the tables. After forcefully reminding herself that she would never again be invited to dance in the palace ballroom, she danced like she hadn’t danced since she was an adolescent. Which wasn’t hard as she hadn’t actually danced at all since she was eighteen and had found Eloise collapsed in distress in the family bathroom on the night of what should have been Gabrielle’s prom.

Ignoring the ache in her feet, which were practically begging for mercy from the elegant heels she’d forced them in, she threw herself into the music. Her body was desperate for an outlet for all the Andrés induced feelings ravaging her, and the music did its best to oblige, but it wasn’t enough. Every beat of every song, she could feel his eyes on her. With every wriggle of her hips and every wave of her hands in the air came a fight not to turn around and seek him out. So desperately in tune was she to him that the whump of her heart told her of his approach long before her head whipped around to confirm it.

He’d removed his dinner jacket and bow tie. Undone the top two buttons of his shirt.

She tried to pretend his appearance on the dance floor meant nothing, she really tried, but she could no more stop her eyes from finding his than she could stop the beats of her ragged heart. Could no more stop her body gravitating to him than she could stop her lungs from working. Could no more stop the flames from flickering low in her abdomen at the sight of his chest hair where his shirt had opened than she could stop her name being Gabrielle Jeanne Breton.

As in the banquet, the world around them seemed to disintegrate. The ravishing blonde who Gabrielle had been dancing beside and who’d made sure Gabrielle, the outsider, was kept within their group and included in the funky dance moves she led, became blurred.

Gaze intent on her, snake hips swaying, he rested a hand loosely on her hip. His other hand captured hers. Or did her hand capture his?

A new track came on.

Eyes fused, they began to move.

The party continued around them, periphery extras in their private dance for two.

The ache in her feet had disappeared. If she didn’t have Andrés anchoring her to the dance floor she felt she might have floated to the ceiling.

Another track played. Slower in tempo. Much slower.

They slowed down with it.

The hand at her hip slid around her waist and pulled her closer.

Andrés blew the stale air in his lungs out slowly. The weighty beats of his heart rippled through his entire being.

His shirt acted as the barrier between the skin on his back and Gabrielle’s hand but he could feel the burn of her touch as strongly as if he were naked. He kept catching wafts of the delightful scents that had tantalised him throughout the banquet. The urge to bury his nose into the top of her head and inhale her shampoo deeply into his lungs was becoming torture to deny himself.

The deep thrums of awareness zinging through his veins and over his skin were growing too, increasing with every sway to the music.

The flickers of arousal were fighting to burn into flames.

He needed to do something to distract him from the effects of the sexy creature he was dancing with before he lost the fight. The sensible thing would be to remove himself from the situation, leave the dance floor and give himself a few moments for the arousal to simmer back to a manageable level.

Andrés had never chosen the sensible option in his life.

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