Hide & Seek - James Patterson [24]
A man strode toward me on the dance floor. I would have turned away, but it was crowded, and there was nowhere to go.
He was dressed all in black, a hood over his head, a mask covering his face, so that only his eyes were visible. He had beautiful eyes, I couldn't help noticing. Something moved inside me. Strange.
“You're Maggie Bradford,” he said. “Please give me your jewels or I'll be forced to steal them.”
“You have the advantage,” I said. “You know my name, but I don't know yours.”
He bowed and raised my hand to his lips. “I'm Raffles, the infamous thief, at your service. And I'd rather steal your heart than your jewels.”
I didn't look away from his eyes. “Then let me see your face. I don't let just anyone steal my heart.”
I didn't know what to make of him. Lots of men had tried to seduce me since I had become someone, but this was a new approach. Hi, I'd like to steal your jewels, or maybe, your heart.
He bowed again, and with a single gesture removed his mask and hood.
Before me, without any exaggeration, stood one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. His blond hair hung down to his shoulders, and his green eyes blazed with an all-consuming light. Music came into my head. His tanned skin announced that he spent a lot of time outdoors, but his face was unlined; he was still young. His smile—and he was smiling now—revealed perfect white teeth and the skin around his jaw was smooth and taut.
“Raffles. Really? And what do they call you in the light of day?” I asked.
“Will,” he said, “Will Shepherd.” He took a step back to study the effect his name had.
It had no effect. I had never heard of him. “A nice name.” I had noticed his accent. “You're American?”
“By birth. I've spent most of my life in England. I resisted sounding like one of them. I'm stubborn sometimes. Most of the time.”
“And what do you do, Mr. Shepherd? Besides conduct highway robberies?”
If possible, his smile grew even brighter. “I'm afraid that I play football. Or soccer, as you would call it. You could come someday to see me play.”
“I'd enjoy that. I guess I would. Although I should warn you, I'm not much of a sports fan.”
“Yet I'm an unabashed fan of yours,” Will said.
“I love your music,” he went on. “The lyrics especially. You seem to understand.”
Suddenly he took me by the arm. “I play your songs all the time, Maggie Bradford. I want to take you home with me tonight. I'm telling you the truth. I want to make love to you. Let's get out of here. You know you want to.”
How could he say that to me? How could he? … You know you want to!
“How dare you speak to me this way,” I shouted over the music.
I slapped him hard, and he stepped back, surprised. My voice must have reached the musicians, for they stopped in mid-melody. Everyone was staring at us.
I didn't care. His touch on my arm was Phillip's touch; his words were Phillip's words.
“If you had really listened to my songs, you'd know what I think of cheap come-ons,” I said. My voice was shaking, my whole body was. “You've ruined this party for me. I don't give a damn if you're the best soccer and football player in the world. To me you're dirt-common, filth, and if you ever dare speak to me again, I'll—” I was about to say—kill you.
He had already moved away, so I didn't finish. I watched him—we all watched him—walk across the room to the door, his head held high, long hair flowing, his steps measured, manly, but absolutely revolting to me.
I stood very still, fighting down embarrassment and rage. The music started again; people began to dance. Lady Trevelyan came up to me and gently touched the back of my hand.
“I'm sorry,” I blurted, and felt close to tears. “So sorry. I didn't mean to make a scene. I'm so sorry.”
“Don't even think about it,” she said, her voice on the edge of laughter. “You gave Will Shepherd exactly what he deserved, and there isn't a woman in this room who isn't cheering for you right now.” Finally, the hostess did laugh. “Of course, they'd all hop into bed with him given the chance.