Читать книгу The Duchess and Her Bodyguard - Mollie Molay - Страница 11

Wade Stevens felt someone’s intent gaze boring into the back of his head. A practicing lawyer, he was used to being the focus of attention, but tonight felt different. Tonight, the vibrations reaching him were making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

After all, he wasn’t in court, he told himself as he glanced around him for the offender. He was attending a diplomatic cocktail party as the representative of the Navy’s Judge Advocate General Corps, more commonly known as JAG. In his white dress uniform, surely he was no different from the variety of uniformed men in attendance.

Casually, he rubbed the back of his neck. And, just as casually, slowly turned to survey the activity going on around him.

The parlor of Blair House across the street from the White House and currently the temporary residence of Prince Alexis of Baronovia, and his daughter, the duchess Mary Louise, was ablaze with lights. The buzz of conversation almost drowned out the soft music played by a quintet of uniformed U.S. Marine musicians. The air was filled with the appetizing scent of hors d’oeuvres being offered by white-gloved waiters. Foreign notables from countries around Europe were easily identified by the multitude of colorful ribbons and medals on their chests. United States diplomats were equally distinguishable by their conservative tuxedoes. Wade’s experienced gaze didn’t miss the men in suits, CIA and FBI operatives, who attempted to fade into the woodwork.

The women guests in attendance outshone each other in obligatory little black cocktail dresses or in the currently popular red version. More than one woman wore strands of colorful jewels at her neck, wrists and in her hair.

With the exception of one exquisite woman.

A woman who drew Wade’s gaze as surely as slivers of steel are drawn to a magnet.

She wore a flowing white chiffon dress, which, although gracefully draped over her breasts, managed to reveal more of her shapely figure than it concealed. When his gaze threatened to linger there, he caught himself and moved on to the rest of her. Her short skirt ended in a swirl of sheer material just above her knees. Long and slender legs were covered in shimmering silk hose and she wore white satin sandals with four-inch heels.

Without a doubt, Wade mused, the lady in white was the most attractive woman he’d seen in too long a time.

Fascinated, he gazed at rich chestnut-brown hair drawn back from her forehead into a chignon that rested on the nape of her neck. Soft tendrils had escaped their bounds to hang temptingly over her forehead. An emerald necklace that matched her eyes circled a slender neck his fingers instinctively ached to caress. If only, he told himself, he could find out for himself if her skin was as silky as it appeared to be.

Their eyes met. A warmth covered him when she gazed back at him over the rim of the flute of champagne she held to her lips. To his chagrin, she smiled, and her exotic eyes sparkled with subtle understanding at his obvious interest. With a slight smile and a nod, she saluted him with the flute of champagne.

When he noted a mutual interest reflected in those emerald-green eyes, Wade ran his finger under his suddenly tight uniform collar. He was debating joining her and introducing himself when she turned away to speak to a dignitary who appeared at her side.

Wade gave a resigned shrug. As beautiful as she was, a woman like her was bound to be taken. Too bad. Still, there was no mistaking the gleam of interest he’d seen in her eyes.

An hour later, when he was engaged in a sedate waltz with the wife of the undersecretary of the navy, he saw the woman in white glance at him from across the room. Again he noticed those green eyes and that impossible smile that kicked his heart into high gear. Then she was gone.

A small voice whispering inside his head told him it was going to be a memorable night.