What The Magnate Wants. Joanne Rock
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“I’m not sure if I mentioned that Cameron’s matchmaker is Mallory West. He contacted her for an explanation the day after he proposed to you.”
The name meant nothing to Sofia, but as her dancing peers had noted, she wasn’t part of the Manhattan singles scene.
“Did she say where she got my flight information?” She had thought about that more than once. How could Cameron’s matchmaker have known her arrival time in New York, while her father claimed to be ignorant of Cam’s appointment to meet her?
She dipped her hand into the bubbles in the tub, skimming her fingers across the soapy tops.
“She told Cameron she would look into it.” Quinn’s voice was as potent as his touch. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him beside her. “But since then, her phone has been disconnected and her email generates an autoreply that she’s out of the country on an extended trip.”
Sofia forced her eyes open, thinking about that bit of peculiar news. Her cheeks puffed with a hefty exhale. “What do you think it means?”
“For now, it simply means that she is a dead end in our hunt for information. I’m sorry, Sofia. But I will continue having my IT technician hunt for any sign of her online. And, for what it’s worth, he’s seen no traces of a dating profile for you online, so I think the matchmaker your father hired made good on her promise to pull it down.”
“At least that part is good news.” She really needed to call her father and ask him more about the situation herself, if only to find out whom he’d hired to help her with her dating prospects. She would feel better once she told that person in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t interested.
“It is. And we’ll figure out the rest of it, Sofia,” Quinn assured her before his tone shifted and his voice got lower. “But that isn’t the only thing we have to figure out.”
“No?” Sensations tripped down her spine at that sexy rasp in his voice. “What else should we be discussing?”
A half laugh sounded from the other end of the call and nothing else, no background noise, just him. He must be somewhere private. Alone. “Something more fun. So, Sofia, what kind of dress should I buy you to wow and woo the crowds at Idris Fortier’s reception on Friday? Do you have a favorite boutique?”
Buy her a dress? The gesture was sweet. But it was too much. Far too much.
“That is kind of you, but definitely not necessary.” Still, she imagined what he would choose for her. What it would be like to slide on a garment handpicked by Quinn?
“I’ll take you shopping anywhere you’d like.”
She tried not to think about the beautiful things a man like Quinn McNeill could afford.
“You are thoughtful, Quinn, but I can’t accept more gifts.” She felt guilty enough about wearing that massive diamond on her left hand, but he’d convinced her the ring was a necessity. “And I already have something in mind.” She didn’t mean for her voice to sound so clipped.
“Are you nervous?” he pressed, the deep tones of his whiskey-rich voice warming her moist body.
Her instincts kicked in; she could tell he was interested. He actually wanted to know.
“A bit. I... I just...” Her voice trailed off. Social gatherings and big parties were not her thing. She disliked superficial small talk, preferring meatier conversations.
Music.
Dancing.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“I’m terrible at galas. And around large masses of humanity in general.”
“Seriously?” Surprise colored his voice. “But you dance in front of large audiences.”
“Yes, seriously. I have stage fright in social scenarios where I’m forced to talk. But when I’m on stage, ballet feels like poetry, like breath. It’s different. Completely different.” Chewing her lip, she felt a ball of anxiety begin to form.
Deep breath.
“Luckily for you, I’m quite the pro at these galas. I’ll be there to guide and help you, if you want to follow my lead, that is.”
“If you can speak in coherent sentences, you’ll be one step ahead of me. I’m notoriously awkward in interviews. Jasmine has tried to coach me, but I get very tense.”
“I hope that having me there helps. But either way, we’ll get through it. And if you want to leave early, I’ll give everyone the impression that it’s my fault because I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”
The images that came to mind heated her skin all over again. So much so, she needed to pull her feet out of the hot water.
“How generous of you,” she observed, feeling tongue-tied already but for a very different reason.
“I do what I can.” The smile in his voice came right through the call. “So can I ask what you plan on wearing?”
A playful tone from him? Now, wasn’t that a surprise. Smiling, she glanced out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, eyeing her closet where she had exactly nothing appropriate.
While her father would have loved to write her monthly checks or set up a trust fund for his sole heir, she’d resisted all of his efforts to share his wealth with her in any way. Her mother had always blamed him for his refusal to focus on the things that really mattered in life. Like love. Family. Art. All the things that mattered most to Sofia.
She would do without a dress.
“Something stunning,” she told Quinn finally, wondering if she could get something on loan from the costume department.
“Something sexy?” He pressed and she heard his smile through the phone.
“Extremely,” she said, forgetting that she was supposed to keep herself in check around him.
Chuckling, his voice was low like a whispered promise. “I look forward to seeing every sexy inch of you on Friday.”
And before she could close her gaping jaw, he’d hung up.
* * *
Quinn stepped from the limo outside Sofia’s apartment building shortly before seven on the night of the reception for her big-deal choreographer.
He hit the call button near the door and waited to be buzzed in before heading inside and taking the elevator to her floor. They’d spoken by phone the last two nights and their conversations had allowed him to get closer to Sofia without the in-person surge of attraction getting in the way. She seemed more at ease on the phone, as if she needed that cerebral connection before she’d allow herself to admit the physical chemistry that had been apparent to him since the first moment he’d seen her.
He’d even talked her into letting him send her a gown for tonight, a feat it had taken him a lot of effort to pull off. He’d only gotten his way by arguing that it would make their engagement more believable. He would absolutely want his fiancée to appear at such an important event for her career in an unforgettable, one-of-a-kind dress. Especially since this would be their first formal public outing as an engaged couple.
Now, as he rang the bell outside 5C, he mentally reviewed the game plan. Let the attraction build. Don’t rush her. But once they were in the spotlight and she needed to sell their relationship as a stable, happy union that wouldn’t detract from her dancing, he planned to deliver. She would be in his arms as often as possible to prove it.
And he looked forward to that more than he’d anticipated any date in a long time. So much for the idea that all this was for show or to smooth over relations with her father. Quinn wasn’t going through with it just to ease those European deals and to save his brother from embarrassment.
When the door opened, the sight of her hit him in his chest like a physical blow. Not because