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He was beautiful.
It was not a word Stella usually associated with men, but it suited him. Don’t keep staring at the gorgeous mouth, she told herself firmly. It was his eyes that drew her most strongly. They were every bit as mesmerizing as she remembered. In the shade they were the color of a faded eucalyptus leaf. As he looked away into the sunlight, they shone like silver coins.
.....
He was of less than average height with a slight build, but Moncoya’s presence instantly filled the vast room. He wore evening dress, but managed to bring a touch of his unique flair to the conventional outfit. Tuxedo and trousers in midnight blue were perfectly contoured to his slender physique, and he wore a cravat in place of a bow tie. It was his face, however, that drew—no, commanded—Stella’s attention. It was a face that graced the cover of thousands of electronics periodicals as well as the gossip pages of every international newspaper and magazine. Moncoya’s chiseled beauty was legendary, almost as well-known as his sexual prowess, but nothing had prepared Stella for the reality of the man. How had she reached the age of twenty-five without knowing you really could have your breath taken away by the presence of another human being? Moncoya ran a hand through his signature mane of tousled, morning-after hair, its highlights ranging from honey gold to caramel. The diamond studs in his ears caught the light. Until that instant Stella would have laughed if someone had told her she could find a man who wore black nail polish and blue eyeliner attractive.
It was those eyes that drew her in and captured her, she decided. Bluer than a summer evening, the irises were edged with gold as if encircled by fire. The effect was devastating. Once you looked into Moncoya’s eyes, you couldn’t look away. Not even if your life depended on it. She shook the foolish, intrusive thought away.
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