Thirty minutes later, his smile was strained and he shifted another couple centimeters away from Mrs. Leslie Wilkins. She stood so close, he was in danger of suffocating on her cloying perfume. And he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t by accident she kept brushing his thigh or backside with her hand. Her husband continued to drone on about the ideal properties he was looking for, completely ignoring his wife. Walter had excused himself ten minutes ago, so it was just the three of them, penned into a corner. A waiter passed and Leslie grabbed yet another glass of champagne.
“Luca, there you are. I wondered where you’d got to.” The sexy voice of Walter’s receptionist halted the glass halfway to the American woman’s lips. Sophia’s small hand slipped into his, and he gave it a squeeze of appreciation.
He glanced down at her upturned face and had to stop himself from bending down and kissing her slightly parted lips. Sophia did weird things to his self-control. He was probably in more danger from her than Leslie Wilkins. “My apologies, amore. Walter introduced me to Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins, and we got so engrossed in our conversation, I lost track of time. Leslie, Chet, do you know Sophia Stevens?”
Leslie Wilkins downed half the glass of champagne in one go and turned to her husband. “I’m going to get something to eat,” she said before walking away, her steps wobbly.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Wilkins. Pardon me, I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” Sophia added. “I’ll make sure Mrs. Wilkins finds the buffet okay.”
As quietly as she’d arrived, Sophia left, a light, lingering scent of fresh fruit and an odd tingle in his palm the only remnants of her appearance. Without missing a beat, Chet Wilkins continued his property wish list.
“I know of three properties that would suit your needs. When will you be in Italy?” As much as he’d love to cement a relationship with Chet, he couldn’t keep his mind off Sophia. Maybe she’d been checking him out and noticed his discomfort? His breath caught in his chest. What other hidden talents did the beguiling receptionist possess?
Chet’s voice interrupted his contemplations. “We’ll be there in about six weeks. My wife is accompanying me.”
Luca took a sip of his drink to expunge the bad taste in his mouth at the thought of more time in the company of Leslie Wilkins. “Here’s my card. Call me when you firm up your plans. I believe we can enjoy a mutually beneficial business partnership.”
Chet Wilkins pocketed his card and shook hands. “I look forward to working with you. Guess I’d better round up Leslie,” he said, then wandered toward the bar area rather than the buffet. Apparently, the man knew exactly where he’d find his wife.
Luca scanned the crowd, ignoring the open invitation on several of the women’s faces. Eventually he found Sophia, standing alone by the ice sculpture. The tiny white lights strung through the marquee danced off her golden hair, drawing him like a moth to a flame.
“Thank you,” he said, resisting the urge to take her hand again, to see if the connection he’d experienced earlier had been real.
A hesitant smile played about her lips. “I wasn’t rescuing you. I was saving Chet Wilkins. He was getting more embarrassed each time she touched you. Mr. Wilkins is a nice man; he’s been to the office several times. I didn’t like watching his wife flirt with someone in front of him.”
Damn, she hadn’t been checking him out. He had to force a smile. “Well, whatever your motive, I am grateful. Can I get you another drink?” He glanced down at her hand; the champagne was still at the same level it had been when he’d first seen her almost forty-five minutes ago.
“No, I’m good. Don’t let me detain you. I’m sure there must be other important people here you’d like to talk with.”
Was she trying to get rid of him? She’d met his gaze briefly before staring at his left shoulder. “Why do you feel you are not important?”
“I’m the receptionist.” She shrugged, her gaze only flicking to his momentarily.
“Receptionists are the first introduction to a company. They are vital in portraying the correct image. You should never think less of yourself.”
“It’s only a job.”
“Well if you could be anything you wanted, what would it be?”
“A ninja.” This time her eyes did meet his and the laughter was back in their green depths.
Whether it was the audacity of her reply or her smile he wasn’t sure, but he sucked in a deep breath. “An interesting career choice. Why would you like to be a ninja?”
“Black’s my favorite color.” Her flippant answer made him smile.
“So what is holding you back? A lack of black outfits?”
She laughed. “Ah, if only. No, the best ninja schools are in Japan, and I don’t have a passport.” She shrugged and looked once again over his shoulder.
“Am I keeping you from someone? Your husband or boyfriend?” He’d noticed in the office she didn’t wear a ring, and there had been no photos on her desk. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved with someone. He repressed the disappointment that swept through him.
“No, I’m here alone. I only came because Mr. Bodman insisted everyone in the company attend. But I think I’ve stayed long enough. I see Mr. Wilkins steering his wife toward the exit, so you should be safe now.”
“Safe, thanks to you. In fact your timely intervention has given me an idea. Will you meet me tomorrow? I have an opportunity I would like to discuss with you.”
“You need a part-time ninja to protect you?”
“Something like that.”
Sophia tilted her head to one side and stared at him. Finally she shrugged her delicate shoulders again. “I usually take a walk around St. James’s Park at lunchtime. I’ll be on the bridge at 12:30 if you still want to talk with me.” She spoke as though she didn’t really believe he would show up.
“Tomorrow at 12:30 then.”
Her eyes searched his face but he kept his expression carefully neutral. If she discovered his interest, she may not come. The plan that had started when she slipped her hand into his had solidified with their brief conversation. Yes, Sophia Stevens would do very nicely.
• • •
Sophia stood on the bridge and looked out over the lake to the fountain and Buckingham Palace in the background. Spring had come early; the trees were in bloom and crocuses and daffodils soaked up the sunshine. To stop from searching for Luca, she stared at the ducks. A male mallard was enticing a female with a display of his bright plumage. She wished she were a duck. They didn’t worry about paying the rent or putting their brother through college.