Chapter Three:
The moment her eyes fell on the fair-haired man in the shadows, Theresa forgot all about the crowd of people staring at her. She forgot about the wealthy clients she was supposed to be wooing and the critics she was supposed to be wowing. Nothing reached Theresa – not the open-mouthed stare she got from her best friend or the narrowing of her boss's eyes as she walked away in the middle of her speech.
Her attention was focused entirely on the stranger. He wore a dark suit under a long, black coat with the collar turned up, in striking contrast to his pale skin. His hair fell in honey blonde waves and his eyes were the blue of a summer's sky. He was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous man Theresa had ever seen.
That, alone, wasn't what captivated Theresa, though. She was attracted to him, certainly, but there wasn't something… else. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Something that tugged at the corners of her mind, nagging at her.
Theresa was absolutely certain that she had never seen the man before – she would remember seeing someone that good looking – yet there was a feeling of recognition that she couldn't shake. It was like seeing a face in a crowd that she knew she should be able to place but couldn't. He was strange and familiar to Theresa, all at once.
He seemed to be victim of the same strange spell Theresa had fallen under. Without taking his eyes from her, the stranger moved toward Theresa. They were pulled together by some force outside of themselves, like magnets unable to deny the attraction that drew them together. They met in the centre of the room, oblivious to the many watchful eyes.
I know you! Theresa wanted to scream. Except, of course, that she had never met him before.
So why did it seem that her body knew exactly what his would feel like against it?
"Hello," she said out loud, rather breathlessly.
"Hello," he answered.
Silence that was in no way silent stretched between them. The moment was pregnant with tension, with expectation, with-
"Hello!"
Theresa reluctantly dragged her attention away from the stranger's face to glance at the man who had spoken. A few inches shorter, the newcomer was as dark as the other was light. His hair and neat goatee were both thick and black. His eyes belonged to a shark, dark and fathomless. Though he wore what might have been interpreted as a friendly smile, he made Theresa uneasy.
She had an instant, unexplainable dislike of the man.
"Your work is beautiful," he said, taking a hand that Theresa hadn't offered him. He placed a kiss on the back of it and her stomach churned. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to wipe her hand on the back of her dress when he released her.
"Thank you," Theresa said obligingly. Her tone was cool, even to her own ears. She didn't know why but she didn't think she could be any politer than that.
"Alec," the blonde man said, a sharp edge to his voice, "would you give us a moment, please?" It didn't sound much like a request.
The man called Alec glanced between them once then, with an exaggerated wink in Theresa's direction, said, "Of course! I think I'll see if I can find a bite to eat…" He disappeared into the crowd.
"I must apologise for Alec," the first man said. "He's…" He waved a hand helplessly, as if he couldn't find the right words to describe his friend.
Unnerving. Frightening. Unsettling.
Theresa could think of plenty.
"I-"
"Theresa! What sort of speech do you call that?"
It was impossible to roll her eyes any harder than Theresa did then. Leave it to Timothy to choose that moment to stick his rather large nose in.
Before Theresa could tell Timothy to back off – or any of the many less pleasant things that crossed her mind – he continued, "If we fail to land the Livingston restoration job because you-"
"Excuse me." The voice that interrupted him was soft. Calm, but authoritative.
Timothy, startled, turned to stare at the stranger. "And you are?" he asked, not making any attempt at courtesy.
"I'm Vlad." He spoke in response to Timothy's question but his words were for Theresa alone.
Vlad. Why did that name make Theresa's heart leap into her throat?
"Is that supposed to mean something?" Timothy asked unkindly.
Theresa nearly groaned aloud. Timothy had the unique ability to turn any situation into a pissing contest. If not endearing, it was usually tolerable. Not at that moment. Theresa lost her patience with him – something she almost never did.
"Isn't there a wealthy widow around here somewhere you should be separating from her money?" she asked shortly.
Timothy's eyes narrowed at Theresa's tone. "We'll discuss this later," he told her before leaving.
She had no doubt that they would. At length. Theresa was willing to endure the threat of just about any future lecture if it made Timothy scarce. As she watched him walk away, Theresa noticed Michelle weaving her way through the crowd, toward them. Hoping her friend would get the point, Theresa shook her head once.
Michelle understood. Perhaps a little too well. A knowing grin spread across the other woman's face. She gave Theresa a thumb's up before turning on her heel and walking away. Theresa noticed that she went in the opposite direction of the now-angry Timothy.
Theresa turned her attention back to Vlad. He looked back at her intently, his pale blue eyes bright with some emotion she couldn't name. She cleared her throat while she tried to think of a way to break the ice.
"Well," she said lamely, cursing herself. Why couldn't she think?
Come on, Theresa! She scolded herself. You've got him to yourself. Now what?
Luckily for her, the DJ chose that moment to play a slow song. With a lopsided grin that made her heart flutter wildly, Vlad held out a hand that Theresa gladly took.