4

"I hope you’ll excuse my coming over and introducing myself?" He quirked dark, questioning brows over enigmatic green eyes. "I’m Simon Hamilton,"

His voice was really sexy, Sara acknowledged. Deep and husky, with an undertone of dark and sensual. The sort of voice guaranteed to send a shiver of delight down women’s spines.

Other women’s spines, Sara corrected firmly. Fortunately she was totally immune to conceited men like Simon Hamilton. Most especially to Simon Hamilton himself.

"I don't need to know who you are, Mr Hamilton," she said. Just as she knew exactly what he was. The men who had been vying for her attention seemed to have recognised that he was a man to beware of—if for different reasons than Sara's— and had now drifted off to a safe distance, leaving the two of them completely alone in a room full of the richest and most fashionable people in New York.

"You don't?" His brow arched questioningly.

She gave a smile of rebuke. "Of course I don't. After the way you acted yesterday when we ran into each other, I see no reason why I'd want to know you in any way."

Simon studied the woman in the clinging red gown through narrowed lids as he detected the mockery beneath her smoky tone.

Her beauty was all the more apparent now that he was standing next to those deep brown eyes, the perfect nose, the full and sensuous lips above a pointed chin. Her alabaster skin had the fine smooth appearance of porcelain in the bareness of her shoulders in the strapless gown.

And she was most definitely naked beneath that gown! Well…her breasts certainly were. The berry-like nipples were temptingly outlined against the silky material, the perfect fit of the gown over the fullness of her hips surely only allowed for a pair of gossamer-thin panties. Panties the same vibrant red as her gown? And would they be made of lace? Or silk?

Simon drew in a deep breath as his already hot and aroused shaft gave a throb of response just at the thought of his seeing this shapely woman wearing only a pair of brief and silky red panties.

"And you are…?" he asked,

"Sara,"

His smile was teasing. "Just Sara?" he asked,

She gave a light inclination of her head. "Just Sara,"

The coolness in her voice, as well as her demeanor, was really starting to irritate—and arouse!—the hell out of him. "It’s a pleasure to meet you…. Again….. Just Sara,"

The sensual fullness of her lips curved into a chiding smile. "Shouldn’t you get to know me a little better before deciding that?"

"Well, I already know that you’re…. A very… Outspoken lady," he murmured slowly.

That enigmatic smile widened, revealing white, even teeth. "Indeed,"

Yes, definitely mockery, Simon noted wryly, and he knew the reason for it. It usually took a beautiful woman a lot longer than two minutes’ acquaintance to decide he might be dangerous, but this lady was judging him based on what had happened on their first encounter.

He nodded. "I just moved here from England," he said instead, not wanting to let her cling to that memory of him, "Been there for ten years,"

Sara gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. "Well, good for you. And how are you enjoying New York?"

He shrugged broad shoulders. "Well, so far I’ve realized that it truly is a city that never sleeps."

That was one of the things Sara had always loved about New York too. Her business as an interior designer had blossomed just two years ago and before then she had worked as an executive assistant for her brother. Well, until she had found out their truth about her ex, Bruce Bennet and why he'd gotten into a relationship with her. The break up had been messy and Sara had lost her pregnancy. The experience had left Sara with the viewpoint that once bitten was twice shy—and with the intention of never getting married to anyone.

She shrugged. "Oh, come on. If nothing else you have to appreciate the fact that you can buy a decent cup of coffee here any time of the day or night."

Smokey green eyes warmed in sensual invitation. "I’ve found that the percolator in my apartment makes an excellent cup of coffee. Day or night…"

"Wow." Sara looked at him admiringly. "It took you…what…? All of five minutes’ acquaintance before inviting me back to your apartment." She went on dryly at his enquiring look, "Surely that has to be a record, even for a man like you?"

Simon stilled, now positive that he hadn’t been mistaken about the sharp edge of derision that seemed to underlie every word this woman said to him. "A man like me…?" he prompted softly.

She shrugged those bare shoulders, the movement drawing attention to the full and creamy swell of her breasts above the neckline of the silky red gown. "I’m afraid I already know what sort of man you are, Mr Hamilton,"

"Really? And what sort of man might that be…?"

Her eyes looked up into his unblinkingly. "Why, I know that you’re as arrogant as ever. Your attitude when we first met was just a piece of the iceberg. You don't apologize even when you are wrong. Probably the kind of man who is so lethally single-minded in his pursuit of a woman he desires as he is cold and calculating when it comes to ending a relationship."

Simon straightened, his lazy humor fading in the face of her attack." I beg your pardon…?"

Had she gone too far? Sara wondered with an inward grimace. After all, circumstances might be such that she was predisposed to dislike and disapprove of Simon Hamilton, but having now run into him here, there was no doubting that he was a force to be reckoned with in New York—both professionally and socially. The fact that he now appeared every inch the powerful and arrogant billionaire businessman that he was, instead of the flirtatiously seductive man of a few seconds ago, would seem to indicate that she had indeed overstepped the line. As far as he was concerned, at least.

Sara had only wanted to let him know that she had no intention of being so much as flattered by his marked attention, let alone falling for his seductive and no doubt practiced—charm. She gave a light and deliberately dismissive laugh. "I’m only saying what I've observed,"