White Satin Read Free Page A

a moment before an oval mirror framed in glowing mahogany to tidy her auburn hair into its usual neat bun on top of her head.
Heavens
, she thought,
I look terrible
. Her thin, delicate face was even more fragile-appearing than usual, and her dark eyes with their frame of extravagantly long lashes had mauve shadows beneath them. Not exactly a facade to inspire confidence when she was about to face a powerhouse like Anthony. Well, even at her best she’d never been able to confront him with the same poise with which she handled the public and the media.
    She drew a deep breath as she paused outside the richly paneled oak door of the library. Howstupid to have this crazy fluttering in the pit of her stomach. He wasn’t going to eat her, for heaven’s sake. She raised her hand and knocked firmly on the door.
    “Come in.”
    He was sitting in a huge leather chair pushed back from the mahogany desk that was the central focus of the room. As usual, her first impression of him was one of dynamic strength and overpowering magnetism.
    She could see all of him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a crew-neck sweater in a cream color that made the bronze of his skin and the satin darkness of his hair gleam with added vibrancy in contrast. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the lean, graceful body, and the sinewy power of his shoulders and the muscular strength of his thighs only accented his supple slenderness.
    There was a swift flicker of emotion in the silver-green of his eyes as he saw her standing waiting in the doorway, but it was gone in an instant. He gestured to the deep russet leather chair next to the desk. “Sit down, Dany. I’ve been waiting for you.” He pushed aside the pile of documentshe’d been working on. He appraised her coolly, from the hip-length, cowl-neck caramel-colored sweater and matching slacks to the darker brown short suede boots. “You’ve lost weight again. I thought you had when I saw you on television yesterday. Beau says you’re overdoing the practice and not eating enough.”
    “Evidently he’s wrong—about the practice at least,” she said flippantly as she closed the door and strolled over to the chair he’d indicated. “Judging by the results of the competition yesterday, I need all the practice I can get.” She dropped into the chair and raised her brows inquiringly. “I gather that’s why I’m here.” She glanced down at the kilim carpet that ran almost the length of the library. “Well, if I’m to be called on the carpet, this is a very attractive one on which to abase myself. I don’t recognize it. It’s new, isn’t it?” She looked up at him, a hint of challenge in her expression. “There are quite a few changes since I left. A new wall and gate, different servants, new furniture.”
    He leaned back in the chair, one knee lifting to rest against the edge of the desk. His eyes werenarrowed thoughtfully on her face. “I like to leave my own stamp on my surroundings,” he said slowly. “I’ve never been satisfied to accept someone else’s choices or hand-me-downs”—a little smile tugged at his lips—“even if those hand-me-downs happen to be antiques.” The smile faded. “But as it happens, I did want to talk to you.”
    “I gathered that from the way you pulled us halfway across the country with the speed of light,” she said dryly. She moistened her lips nervously and looked away from him to a point over his shoulder. There was such power in his dark, impassive face. When she was away from him, she always thought her imagination was playing tricks and exaggerating his forcefulness. There was nothing conventionally handsome about him. His cheekbones were too high and broad, his lips a touch too sensual, and his chin too firm for classical good looks. It made no sense at all that when combined, those features formed a countenance with a totally riveting fascination about it. Or was his most salient characteristic that air he always exuded of something