Silver and Spice

long stairway. “I’m so glad to see you after all this time!” Jane exclaimed. “I’ve got all sorts of things to tell you…”

The caterers were even willing to deliver champagne to stair-sitters, and Jane Harrison had the same sort of effervescence as the sparkling wine. Their friendship had initially been created by sharing any number of totally erroneous concepts about love, life and sex-late at night over potato chips-at the private high school they’d both attended. After fifteen years, Jane was still the talker-her children, her interests, her divorce-while Anne still listened, not unhappy to dole out numerous affectionate servings of compassion, as long as Jane didn’t expect her to bare her own soul. But Jane certainly never did that, so gradually Anne felt her limbs relax again, her pulse obediently slow as Jane chattered.

Twenty minutes lapsed, full of laughter and old memories, before another tray of champagne lilted past and Jane rose and stepped forward to retrieve fresh glasses for the two of them. Out of nowhere, Anne felt a shivery touch at the nape of her neck.

Jane turned around, her blue eyes widening as she took in the retreating figure in a black tux. When he was out of sight, she grinned impishly at Anne, setting down both champagne glasses. “Did you see that hunk?” she whispered appreciatively, sighing as she refolded the rose chiffon over her chunky legs. “Wonder what he was doing upstairs?” she added with a wicked little smile. “You don’t know him, do you? What’s the matter, darling?”

“Nothing. Oh, of all the ridiculous… I seem to have lost some hairpins.”

They both searched. Nothing remotely resembling a hairpin was anywhere near the stairs. With a smile, Anne cut off the conversation with Jane and maneuvered quickly down the hall to a bathroom. Apprehensively, she forced herself to look in the mirror. The loss of a half-dozen hairpins made a difference to a mane of hair that reached her waist. The style, rearranged, was of necessity less severe, with looser loops and curls that were not anywhere near as…perfect.

She’d taken merely four steps into the living room when she realized that he was there. This time he was talking to a cluster of men, his tux jacket open and one of his hands loosely in a pocket as he laughed. The strong features and silvery eyes again reminded her of a wolf. On the endangered species list in many parts of the world, wolves. Anne, normally sympathetic to that cause, couldn’t seem to raise any compassion. He managed to turn toward her before she could back up and out of sight.

His silver eyes were steely with determination. The intent to stalk his prey was so blatant that she caught her breath. And then lifted her chin, turning away with a small smile. The poor man was so arrogant. But just how far did he think he could take his little game in a houseful of people?

She wanted air, anyway. On the terrace, dancers were cuddled up for the torch songs the musicians were now playing. A restless breeze ruffled the white tablecloths on the lawn by the pool; lanterns swayed in the cloudy September night. A very nice, very safe man caught her eye…

She’d occasionally dated Warren Stuart summers, or on college semester breaks. He’d earned his law degree at Harvard since then, and as if his body knew it, he wasn’t nearly as good a dancer as he’d once been. The stiffness lingered even as he tried to hold her close, undoubtedly hoping to forget his wife and two children. So much for safety. Still, Anne closed her eyes, the picture of a lady enjoying herself, caught up in the music and the night and a good-looking man. The slight breeze cooled her, bringing unaccustomed color to her cheeks.

Her fingers curled loosely over Warren’s collar, as his did at her waist. He pulled back, smiling at her. “You always were the best, Anne,” he said warmly. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Happy these days?”

She nodded simply, and he pulled her close again. The patio around them grew crowded, making it more and more difficult to dance without bumping into someone. When the last chords of the second song died, she drew back from Warren, smiling. “You think we’ve been at it long enough to make your wife jealous?” she asked teasingly.

He laughed, throwing back his head. “If it weren’t for Amanda, honey…”

Warren’s hands were affectionately holding hers, yet like the caress of a breeze she again felt the shiver of fingertips behind her. It was nothing. Just the merest touch at the base of her neck, and then the swift sweep of a hand all the way down to the intimate curve of her hips. Undoubtedly an accident-someone trying to move past the crowd of dancers. Of course. Her smile never faltered, but her hand whipped out of Warren’s, her fingers instinctively closing around the nape of her neck as if she’d suddenly discovered an aching muscle. “I’m going to have a little talk with your Amanda,” she told Warren with a little laugh before leaving him and swiftly making her way off the patio.

Unfortunately, both bathrooms on the ground floor were occupied. Belatedly, she remembered a small one off the kitchen, and smiled apologetically at the harried catering crew filling up trays as she passed. In the tiny square cubicle, she hurriedly refastened the collar that held up her dress. If she had been any less quick, her breasts would have been on display. Not Anne’s style.

There was a million-to-one chance, of course, that the two hooks and eyes had loosened on their own. Most people, she knew, would probably never even notice his resemblance to a wolf. Most people would probably be taken in by the character lines etched deeply between the man’s brows, around his mouth and eyes. A character made up of humor and certainly intelligence and whatever wayward charm had led a group of conservative, prominent men to cluster around him… No one but Anne would have guessed that he was capable of such a childish, unforgivable, ridiculous, arrogant…

Anne glanced at the mirror and was taken aback at the sight of her luminous jade-green eyes so unconsciously full of laughter. The devil!

Hurriedly, she slipped back to join the party, this time deliberately seeking her host. She found Link Cord near the pool filling his plate, his wife at his side. Link was sixty, gray-haired and husky, these days sporting iron-gray whiskers that were supposed to look distinguished…and in any case hid a smoothly rounded chin. To Anne, he still very much resembled the neighbor she remembered from childhood-the man who had filled her pockets with silver dollars the day she’d dropped an ice cream cone on the grass, a long time ago. And when he saw her, his dark blue eyes sparkled, the corners crinkling like tiny fans. He opened his arms, and she willingly snuggled into them.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were here, sweetheart. I didn’t see you.”

“I’ve been here and having a marvelous time,” Anne assured him, and then hugged Loretta Cord as well, with a little less enthusiasm. “You’ve done it all exactly right, as always,” she whispered to Link.

He was sensitive about that. Link had come from some rustic cow town in Nebraska, and the exact amount of caviar on each cracker was a critical matter to him, thanks to years of lectures from Loretta. He beamed down at Anne. “Come on, come on. We’ll get you something to eat. And don’t give me any nonsense about your figure. You’ve got everyone in the place outclassed and you know it…”

Obediently, Anne filled up her plate with oysters and crab and frogs’ legs she had no intention of eating, and edged away just a little so that Link and Loretta could greet another guest.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him again. He was dancing, his partner a tall, sylphlike woman with a spectacular head of red hair. A lovely woman, really…

The silver-gray eyes met hers. Did he actually understand that once she’d paid her respects to the Cords she was free to leave? The man seemed to have no manners at all, deserting his redhead in the middle of a dance. Rapidly, Anne averted her eyes and frantically searched for a place to set her plate down. The game was fun, but the thought of an actual meeting caused panic to well up inside her.

He was moving slowly toward her, enjoying the stalk. Behind her host’s back, Anne set her plate down, took a single quick step and felt Link’s hand curl around her wrist like a velvet handcuff. “Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered. “There’s someone I’ve been wanting you to meet for a long time.”

With Link hugging her shoulder, Anne turned, smiling weakly as she stared with deliberate disinterest at a chin made of steel. Just a small distance up from that chin was a disconcertingly sensual mouth, curved in a half- mocking smile. “Anne Blake, is it?” She had to lift her head to meet his gaze. He had the advantage of looking down, his silvery eyes hooded for Link’s benefit. Not for hers. He was staring at her mouth, as if the only thing on his mind was crushing it…very softly, very thoroughly.

“This is Jake Rivard, Anne. I never did understand how the two of you never happened to meet up before,” Link said jovially. “Heck, you both had parents that hopped the globe, but your grandparents lived just three doors away from each other. And in the last few years Anne’s even done business for your grandfather, Jake.”

“Mr…Rivers?”

He took the hand she had not extended, chuckling appreciatively at her deliberate mistake. “Rivard,” he