How tasteless of me to ask you to celebrate the man and the deal which sent your ailing little company to the wall.’ I didn’t realise you were on my invitation list. ‘Well, well, well.’ he drawled in a darkly insolent voice as she came to a halt in front of him.

She knew he had only just turned thirty-three but he looked older, with ruthless lines of experience etched around his eyes and mouth. His broad, flat cheekbones gave him a primitive look, the dark bloom on the smooth-shaven jaw adding to the impression of unbridled masculinity. Her stride briefly faltered and his expression changed to one of smouldering anticipation. He looked like a stallion rearing at an unexpected intrusion into his territory-a massive black stallion, standing aggressively tall, radiating a restless antagonism, his spiky, short-cropped hair the same midnight colour as his superbly tailored jacket, his cobalt-blue eyes wild with untamed spirit, his blunt, masculine features hard and hostile. His dark head lifted sharply, his nostrils flaring, his powerful muscles bunching within the sleek confines of his black-tie regalia as he shouldered through the mass of hangers-on to confront her approach. She was almost there when the tall man at the centre of all the sycophantic attention turned to pick up his half-full glass from the elegantly set dining-table beside him and caught sight of her. Her head was held high, her pale, sharp features a mask of haughty calm as she ignored the whispers gathering in her wake, her icy blue gaze fixed on the small group of important men and vivacious women clustered around a towering figure at the far end of the room.

The woman in black didn’t appear to be aware of her social solecism. The sought-after invitations from Spectrum Developments had placed an emphasis on glitz and glamour, and the female guests had taken the ‘rainbow’ theme to heart in order to flaunt their social and financial status at what was already being called Auckland’s party of the year. The colour of her dress and her total lack of jewellery were in dramatic contrast to the rest of the women in the crowded hotel restaurant.

Her hair was braided into a glossy black knot on the top of her head, adding to her already considerable height and emphasising the stark bareness of her white throat and shoulders. Her formal black gown, cut low across her voluptuous breasts and deep to the base of her spine, flared out from her hips as she walked, the thin fabric shimmering as it slipped and slid against her long legs. THE tall, statuesque brunette wound her way sinuously through the glittering throng.

Mistress of the Groom by Susan Napier