Abena stopped at the door of the hotel ballroom, her arm tucked securely around Marc’s. “Abena Dubango with guest Dr. Marc Appiah,” she said.

They waited while the young woman, dressed in a silver dress and with a wireless headphone on her head, checked the list. Once she’d confirmed they were indeed invited guests, she smiled and waved them in.

“Very nice,” Marc murmured, surveying the room.

The Americana Ballroom in the Loews Hotel on Collins Avenue provided an ideal spot for the upscale event. Round tables decorated with purple and gold table settings dominated much of the floor space, but the organizers left enough room to accommodate the live band on a low stage, and an empty dance floor in front for those inclined to kick up their heels. Outside the floor to ceiling windows, lights illuminated the lawn and hinted at the exceptional view of the Atlantic Ocean, which could be seen during the daytime.

“It’s the biggest fundraiser of the year, so they go all out and make sure those who can spend money come through and spend money.”

Marc chuckled. “Takes money to make money?” A soft smile remained on his face. He’d been in a good mood all night, which relaxed Abena and also put her in a good mood. Their argument of a few weeks ago was a distant memory because she’d finally picked a date for the wedding: June 4th.

The decision occurred suddenly. They’d been at an early evening birthday party for one of his friends. As the sun dipped low, she watched Marc from across the yard, talking to a guest with a beer in his hand. She thought what she always thought; that he was near perfect. What woman wouldn’t be lucky to call him her husband?

Right then, she made a decision. After checking the calendar on her phone, she walked across the lawn and pulled him aside.

“I have a date,” she whispered.

“A what?” His eyes expressed confusion. Partly from the out-of-the-blue statement, but also from the amount of alcohol he’d consumed since they arrived.

“I’ve decided on a date for our wedding. How about June 4^th? It’s the first Saturday in the month.” She picked a completely random date, but it was as good as any other day.

Marc’s smile convinced her she’d made the right decision.

The date gave her plenty of time to hire a wedding planner, find a dress, and get ready for marriage.

She dusted a stray thread from his jacket collar. He looked rather dashing in a black tux. “Yes, it takes money to make money, although I have to admit I think this event is a bit excessive. With all the money they spent, they could feed many more people.”

“Hmm.” Marc nodded his agreement.

“Hello, Abena.”

As soon as she heard Santiago’s voice, Abena’s mood shifted. Her skin prickled underneath the long-sleeved, sequined black dress.

“Santiago,” she said, past stiff lips.

An awkward silence ensued. Unfairly, she compared both men in her head, and Santiago looked more dashing in his tux, dark hair swept back from his forehead, his clear eyes sending a silent message she couldn’t yet decipher.

Marc cleared his throat.

“Excuse me.” Abena chuckled nervously. She placed a hand on her fiancé’s arm. “Marc, this is Santiago Vila, the newly installed VP of operations I told you about. Santiago, this is my fiancé, Dr. Marc Appiah.”

Marc extended his hand. “Pleasure.”

“Same.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think they were sizing each other up. The handshake went on much longer than normal, and Santiago’s jaw tightened in the middle of it.

“So you’re the slave driver who won’t let my fiancée out to play?” Marc asked.

Santiago’s eyes shifted back to Abena. “Is that what she told you? I suppose I do have high expectations of all the staff.”

“Well, pretty soon you might have to do without her working all those late nights.”

“Oh, really?”

“She won’t have nearly as much time to devote to work when we get married next year.” With an indulgent smile, Marc lifted her fingers to his lips, while the heat of Santiago’s gaze all but burned a hole in the side of her face.

“Next year?”

“June fourth, to be exact,” Marc said with satisfaction. Now they’d settled on a date, he couldn’t wait to broadcast it.

“I had no idea. Congratulations.” Santiago’s voice sounded less than congratulatory.

“Whoops…” Marc jumped slightly and pulled his phone from his pocket. Standing so close to him, Abena had heard the vibration. He frowned at the screen. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need to take this. It’s the hospital.” He showed Abena the screen.

“You’re not on call tonight, are you?”

“No, but it’s probably important, or they wouldn’t have called. Excuse me.” He walked toward the doorway with the phone to his ear.

Quiet descended between Santiago and Abena.

“I assumed I’d be among the first to know when you got engaged. I guess your word means nothing.”

“You know now, don’t you?”

“Still not invited to the wedding?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

A slow smile crept across his face. “Dance with me.” He took her hand, clasping hers in his bigger one.

“I don’t want to—” He dragged her toward the dance floor. “I don’t want to dance with you,” Abena muttered, casting furtive glances around the room.

Santiago held onto her hand in a firm clasp. “You dance with me or I make a scene. Which do you prefer?”

“You’re such an ass.”

He bent his head to her ear. “And I think you like it,” he whispered.

The brush of his warm breath sent an unexpected throb between her thighs.

Abena didn’t have much time to think before he swept her around the floor with a hand at the small of her back, his movements fluid but assertive. He took the lead like a man who’d clearly done this many times before. Using the languid music of the stringed instruments as his guide, he kept a hand at the base of her spine, directing her steps with a gentle push-pull that irked, yet aroused her.

Such control. Such command. She couldn’t help but move in time to the music with him. He practically seduced her with his moves and the cool sexual promise in his eyes.

Abena looked away from him to avoid falling deeper into the quicksand of her arousing thoughts. “No date tonight?” she asked, gazing across the room at no particular guest.

“The lovely brunette over there.” He turned them in a half-circle and inclined his head toward a woman holding a glass of champagne, involved in a conversation with the CEO of Miami Feed the Hungry and Homeless. Her side-swept hair cascaded over one shoulder in thick curls, and her voluptuous curves looked about to burst from the sequined red dress that draped the floor. Compared to her, Abena’s body resembled the body of a prepubescent boy and her own knee-length dress seemed woefully inadequate.

“So, what street corner did you find her on?” Abena asked.

“Tsk, tsk.” Santiago twirled her a few steps to avoid colliding with another couple. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about someone you don’t know.” His voice rumbled low and smooth in her ear. “She’s actually quite sweet and is a biophysicist. I never thought I’d say this about you, but your question was rather…oh, what is the word in English? Ah, yes—catty.”

Shamefaced, Abena averted her eyes from his. He brought out the worst in her.

Santiago stepped forward and she stepped back. The music guided his steps, and his body guided hers.

After a spell, Abena asked, “Is she really a biophysicist?”

“Yes. She’s a fascinating woman. Do you think you’re the only one between the two of us who can date someone who’s intelligent?”

He twirled her in another half-circle, the hard length of his muscular thigh pressing against her leg. Abena inhaled sharply when she felt his steely strength through the thin material of her dress and saw the accompanying flare of heat in his eyes. Her hand shifted on his firm shoulder, heart pounding an erratic warning that she should end this dance now.

But, like all things Santiago, she was seduced into continuing. Dancing with him was an energizing experience. With such a partner guiding her movements, she felt as if she were dancing on a floor of clouds.

“I don’t think that at all, but I suspect I know your type. Brains aren’t very important to you. Beauty is your main requirement.”

“You think you know me so well?” His hooded gaze lingered on her face.

“I think I do.”

“Then what does that say about you and my interest in you?” he asked smoothly, looking down his patrician nose at her.

Abena halted in the middle of the dance. “I’ve had enough,” she said with a tight smile. “Thank you.” She marched off the dance floor, but knew he was right behind her.

At a table with wine, he moved close again. “Don’t care to talk about it?” he asked.

“Talk about what? How you couldn’t handle an intelligent woman?”

“Is that the excuse you’ve given yourself? That I could not handle an intelligent woman, when in fact if memory serves me correctly, I handled you quite well.”

“You’re standing too close,” she snapped, her eyes darting quickly around the room.

“I’m not standing close enough.” A fire raged in his gray eyes. “Why are you doing this, Abena?”

“Doing what? Being happy?”

“But are you really happy?” The way he studied her face made her uncomfortable. “Or are you simply pretending to be? I know what happiness looks like on you. I know what contentment looks like on you.” He dragged his eyes down her body, igniting a fire with his hot gaze. “If there’s a man alive who knows how to make you happy, I have to say you’re looking at him.”

She laughed shakily. “I can’t believe your nerve, your arrogance. I’m here with my fiancé and you’re here with your biophysicist—yet you want to state you could make me happy? How so?” She edged closer, glaring up at him. “Do you think it made me happy to wonder whose bed you’d climb into once I left the country? Do you think it made me happy when you didn’t call—not once, after what happened between us? Do you think it made me happy when I found out you were sleeping with a manager of one of the restaurants?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and then a frown settled between his brows.

“Oh yes, I know all about you and Maria. I’m close to a lot of the employees. I may work for the top man in the company, but they respect and trust me. So I hear the occasional bits of gossip, and I knew all about your extracurricular activities. Don’t talk to me about contentment. Don’t talk to me about happiness. Don’t talk to me about what I like or what you think I like. Stick to the women you’re used to sleeping with and leave me alone, because I’m with a man who respects me and my time and treats me like a jewel.” Something she herself needed to remember.

She often forgot how good Marc was to her, and harboring feelings for Santiago wasn’t fair to him. She was glad she’d finally decided on a wedding date.

“Is that why, after only a few months, you let another man put a ring on your finger?”

“Some men don’t waste time. They go after what they want.”

Silence lay heavy between them, and one of his hands curled into a tight fist.

“Rumors of my, shall we say, prowess, are exaggerated. I’ve told you that before. And Maria and I engaged in a casual fling. She meant nothing to me.”

“Oh, just like me.” Pain twisted inside her and she wanted to lash out at him. At the world. “Thank God I never slept with you. You’re empty inside. Lucky for me, I got away before you sucked the soul right out of my body.”

He took hold of her, his big hand dwarfing her narrow wrist, and stood inappropriately close, bringing his mouth mere millimeters from her ear. “Our time together meant much more to me than nothing,” he snarled. “You’re more special to me than any woman I’ve ever known. No matter what happened or didn’t happen between us, believe that.”

Her insides quaked. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, her emotions went into a chaotic free-fall, like a tumble down a steep incline.

“Then why—”

She never finished the question. Never got to ask him why he didn’t call or follow up afterward, if indeed she were so special.

Marc walked up right then, his gaze flicked to Santiago’s fingers curled around her wrist, and the conversation abruptly ended.