Her rich, chocolate eyes gleamed at me from behind the mask. It was strange, I could see almost nothing of her. The white curls weren’t hers, the mask covered half her face. But still… I couldn’t stop glancing at the flush of red on her chest. The delicate curve of her waist felt so tiny under my hands. And her lips… those perfect, heart-shaped lips, parted slightly as she looked up at me. She wanted this as much as I did. Maybe we were both crazy, to want a stranger. But I hoped we wouldn’t stay strangers for long.

I moved in, easing her back until she was against the wall of the greenhouse, or whatever this room was supposed to be. I hadn’t quite figured it out, but it didn’t matter. We were alone. It was dark. She was right here in front of me, waiting, wanting. Her eyes closed as I lowered my head.

My lips met hers and she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me in close. I pressed against her, wishing there were fewer layers between us. But I could still feel her pert breasts push against my chest, her delicate hand in my hair as I tormented her with my lips.

Nibbling, sucking, and then pressing firm, I teased her mouth open. Her lips tasted every bit as sweet as they looked, but I wanted more. More of her. All of her. My arms circled her waist. Normally, I’d let my hands roam lower, squeezing and releasing what I was sure was a delectable ass, but with all the fabric in her skirt, it was impossible. Her mouth was magic enough.

For now.

With one last teasing stroke of my tongue, I pulled back, tugging on her bottom lip as I went. Her eyes were still closed, a faint flush on her cheeks under the drawn-on whiskers I’d smudged a little. When she opened her eyes, her swollen lips curved into a satisfied little smile that shot straight through my body, making me instantly hard. I stepped back, not sure if she’d be able to feel my erection through all those layers but not wanting to chance it. I’d just met this girl, and I definitely didn’t want to scare her away.

“That was nice,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.

Nice was an understatement, but I’d let it go for now. “It was okay…” I said with a wink to let her know I didn’t mean it. “But practice makes perfect, so we’d better do that again, soon. But first, I want to know everything about you.”

Her smile slipped a little at my statement. Maybe she was hoping we’d kiss again? If so, she was definitely my kind of woman. But there would be plenty of time for that. Instead, I led her over to the white, wrought-iron patio furniture, and we sat down on a little loveseat. It almost took a degree in engineering to get us both onto it. First my sword got in the way, and I had to unbuckle the sheath. Then her endless skirts took up the entire seat. After much fumbling and rearranging, I ended up sitting on several layers of ruffles and fabric, holding them down so that they didn’t pop up and smack her in the face.

I liked it—it was almost like I was pinning her down. As I hoped I would do in the very near future. After we got settled, I fished out the corkscrew I’d swiped and opened the bottle of wine. Too bad I hadn’t been able to grab any glasses, but I’d been in hurry with pretend zombies down the hallway and a beautiful woman waiting for me.

With my thigh pressed up against her and my arm around her shoulders, we passed the bottle of red wine back and forth while we talked.

Sitting there in the dark sipping red wine, I learned that she’d married young and gotten divorced after less than a year. And I didn’t know the whole story, but I wanted to kill the jackass who left her. Who hurt her. Which was pretty hypocritical considering I’d left a trail of broken hearts in my past. But at least I’d never been a big enough asshole to marry a girl and then leave her. I’d never do that to anyone—that was one of the reasons I never wanted to get married.

The way Sarah spoke about love and loss made me know that she’d fallen harder than I ever had. Not that I didn’t care about the women I’d dated, but I’d never actually been in love. I doubted I ever would—there was just something missing inside of me. The women in my life, my mother included, quickly learned that they could count on me for monetary support but not much else.

Sarah was only twenty-four, and I’d be turning thirty in a few months, but she’d already lost both parents. Her mother died when she was a child and her father more recently. I held her hand as she talked a little about them, but then I let go when she asked me about my family. It was not my favorite subject.

“My father’s gone, too,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she took the hand I’d just moved away. “Were you close?”

That was an excellent question. I’d always thought we were. But probably not the kind of closeness she’d shared with people she loved. “I looked up to him. He was an excellent businessman. When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be just like him.”

“And did you?”

“Pretty much,” I said, but I was eager to change the subject. I had grown up to be like my old man—both the good parts of him and the bad.

“I loved my dad so much. Especially when I was a little girl. I thought he knew everything. He’d tell me stories… fairy tales, and mythology… for a long time, I thought he invented all those stories. Later I realized he was sharing tales that had been passed down for generations to me. It made me feel connected, to him, to people in the past, to everyone. Did your dad do things like that?”

My father would have thought all of that a waste of time. As I normally would… except the way she explained it, how it was about being connected to people of the past, made it sound more appealing than just boring old morality tales.

“My father was always too busy taking the business world by storm.”

“And your mother?”

“We… well, I sometimes feel I hardly ever got to see her.” Sarah nodded to show she understood. She probably thought I meant that my mother had been one of those women who’d spend her time doing “society wife” things. Benefits. Charity events. She used to host things like this. But the bigger problem was that I was my father’s son. Just because I didn’t like the bastard much didn’t mean I hadn’t turned out like him. “I guess I just had more in common with my father.” Unfortunately.

Sarah was looking up at me curiously. “Which family members are you close to?”

I didn’t want her to think I was emotionally stunted—whether or not it was true—so I thought for a minute. “My grandfather. He was really great. He got me this wine once.”

“What?” she said, pausing with the bottle halfway to her lips. Instead, she lifted it and stared at the label.

“It’s a 1995 Latour. My grandfather got me my first bottle when I graduated from college. Actually, that was a 1996, but the ’95 is good, too.”

She was staring at me now. “It’s really good. So… rich. I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe how good it is. Is it a really expensive bottle of wine?”

I thought about that for a moment. I wasn’t sure what her idea of really expensive was. She had to be well-off to be attending this ball, but still, there was regular levels of well-off and then there was my family. “Moderately,” I said, hedging.

“Then we shouldn’t have taken it,” she said with genuine concern in her voice. My little mouse had a conscience.

“Sure, we should. They owe us for letting their butler chase us across the house.”

But she wasn’t appeased. “First their vase, now the wine. I have to go tell someone what I did.” She tried to get up, but of course I was sitting on her skirt.

“It’s okay," I said, putting my hand around her shoulder, trying to get her to stay still. “This is a party. People are supposed to be enjoying wine like this.”

“But the vase…”

“It was an accident. And besides, if it were a priceless antique, I doubt it would have been left out during the ball.”

“But they—I’m sure they don’t expect rich, fancy people to steal things.”

“No, but they do expect rich, fancy people who are drinking and dancing to eventually wander upstairs to make out. And when that happens, things get broken. Like vases. Or hearts.”

She let out a rueful chuckle at that. “I still feel bad, though.”

“Don’t. They’ll never miss the vase or the wine. Let’s just enjoy it.”

She looked up at me, and even in the dark light she looked beautiful, her petite body turned toward mine, her delicate shoulders covered in soft, touchable silk fabric.

Aware of my staring, she gave a little questioning smile. “What?”

“You look beautiful in that dress.”

She frowned in disbelief, which was interesting. Most beautiful women I met were all too aware of their looks. “There are a dozen other women here tonight wearing the same dress.”

“I don’t get it. Is your contest entree ‘A Day at the Zoo’ or something? But then, why dress up like an English countess?”

“We’re supposed to be Noah’s Ark.”

“In Victorian dresses? What idiot thought up that?”

She grinned at that, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, your dress is gorgeous, but no offense, it’s not very comfortable,” I said, shifting my hips and feeling the ruffles underneath my legs.

“You should try wearing it,” she responded immediately.

“I don’t think it’s quite my style. Besides, you’ve already taken the mouse, and clearly that’s the best animal.”

I said it jokingly, but she nodded. “My father used to call me his little mouse when I was a child.”

“Then I can dress as a male mouse. Mickey to your Minnie. Isn’t it supposed to be two by two?”

“I think there is a male mouse out there somewhere. I’ll stand next to him for the contest tonight.”

The thought of a man in some prissy, old-fashioned suit standing next to her, putting his arm around her, pissed me off. Which was stupid. I had no claim over her. But somehow I wished I did. “Okay, another animal then. What do you think I should be?”

She looked me over, and her hand landed on my thigh, rubbing lightly. “You’re strong. Big. How about… a wolf?”

“I like that.”

“A gray wolf,” she added.

“Because I’m older than you?”

She laughed. “Because you’re wearing dark colors.”

“So maybe I’m the Big Bad Wolf. Maybe that’s why I’m wearing dark colors.” I leaned in as I said this, my hand going around her waist.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at me. “Maybe you are.”

“The Big Bad Wolf probably wouldn’t just be sitting here, not when he’s got such a lovely young lady in his arms.”

Sarah’s eyes shown with excitement and hesitation—more of the former than the latter, I hoped. “What would he do?”

“Would you like to find out?” I said, in the most evil-sounding growl I could muster.

Silence. Hesitation. Several emotions playing across her face. And then—

“Yes.”