Page 53 of Do Opposites Attract?

‘Not exactly,’ she replied, smiling over at her mother.

‘What does that mean, exactly?’

For once, Brianna looked less than confident. ‘I mean, she knows we, well, got together in South America. But I haven’t really spoken to her about you since.’

‘I see.’ And he did see, all too clearly.

‘No, it’s not like that,’ Brianna hastily tried to reassure him. ‘I’m sure she’d be fine if she knew.’ He knew the words were a lie. And that she knew he knew. ‘Look it doesn’t matter what she thinks . . .’ she began again, but had to stop as her mother drew up alongside them.

Polite introductions were made. Her mother congratulated Mitch on his speech, which he stiffly accepted. Clearly desperate to put a quick end to the awkward situation, Brianna dragged him away for a dance.

‘I hope you’re not expecting to waltz,’ he began, his voice still tense. ‘I don’t do dancing.’

They reached the edge of the dance floor and Brianna turned, moving fluidly into his arms. ‘And I only want to feel your arms around me for a while,’ she whispered, moulding herself to him.

He groaned and felt the warmth zip through his body. They might be totally wrong for each other, but when he held her close, it felt so damnably right.

As they danced, Mitch allowed his hands to wander slowly, seductively, over her body. Over the curves that glided beneaththe silk of her dress. He was out of order. Even he knew that. His technique belonged more to the school disco than a plush ballroom, but he didn’t care. Let her mother see. He wanted to touch, to feel. And Brianna wasn’t complaining. If anything, she was moving in closer, rubbing against him, encouraging him. He was fast becoming uncomfortably aroused.

‘What are you thinking?’ she murmured against his ear.

‘I’m thinking you can’t be wearing much under this dress,’ he replied, fighting the urge to grab her hand and take her somewhere private.

She laughed throatily. ‘I’m not.’ Tugging at his hand, she smiled at him wickedly. ‘Follow me.’

Gripping Mitch’s hand, Brianna strode through the vast ballroom and moved towards the lift. The doors opened almost instantaneously. As soon as they entered it, Mitch dragged her to him, his mouth eagerly devouring hers. ‘Fast and furious in the lift?’

‘Tempting,’ she replied huskily as his hands slid under her dress and along her thighs. ‘But I had in mind something slightly more private, in a bedroom.’ As the lift came to a halt, she held out a key card with a saucy grin.

‘I can go with that, too,’ he replied roughly, taking the card from her trembling fingers and quickly opening the door. ‘How long have we got?’

Brianna looked at her watch. ‘Half an hour.’

Within seconds of entering the room, Mitch had unzipped her dress, watching as it fell in a cloud of green silk to the floor. ‘God, Brianna,’ he croaked, staring at her naked breasts, and the wispy silk that barely covered her bottom half.

It was hot, frenzied and over in minutes. The intensity left him reeling.

‘It just gets better and better,’ Brianna sighed contentedly. ‘I’m so glad I had the foresight to book a room. I thought it mightbe useful if we were too tired, or too drunk, to get a cab home. But I much prefer the use we put it to.’

Mitch, who hadn’t even had time to take his shirt off, started slowly undoing his buttons.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What does it look like?’ He threw his shirt over the chair and dived back onto the bed. ‘By my reckoning, we’ve still got fifteen minutes.’

* * *

When Brianna walked up to the microphone a short while later, Mitch couldn’t help the smug smile that slipped across his face. Her hair wasn’t quite as artfully coiled on her head as it had been at the start of the evening. Her skin glowed just that little bit more.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she began. ‘We’ve come to that stage of the evening when we ask you to dip once more into those deep and generous pockets of yours. It’s auction time. Please welcome our auctioneer onto the stage, who will explain how it’s all going to work.’

She stepped aside to cheers and whistles. Then the professional auctioneer explained how the auction would run and set the proceedings in motion.

Mitch watched with passing interest as several pretty young women went for £1,000, and a couple of cocky men raised £500 and £1,500.

‘And finally, we have the hostess for the evening, Brianna Worthington. Who will start the bidding? Shall we say five hundred pounds?’

He went from couldn’t care less to wound up like a coiled spring in the blink of an eye. It might only be a harmless way of raising money, but seeing Brianna on the stage, a prize ready to go to the highest bidder, set his teeth on edge. He didn’t wanther dating anybody else, even if it was for a good cause. Before he had a chance to think, his hand shot up in the air and he was starting the bidding.

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