The deep, intimate voice that came from behind her was as erotically stirring as the warm fingertips that suddenly grazed Rayne Gerard's bare forearm. They brushed lightly over her skin, brazenly moving down to her wrist. Her flesh tingled from the stranger's electrifying touch as his large hand covered hers. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he silently implored her not to write her bidder's number on the sheet lying on the table before her.

Glancing over her bare shoulder, Rayne's eyes landed on the wide chest of a very tall, extremely well-built man, dressed in a designer tuxedo. Her gaze moved slowly over his perfectly knotted bow-tie and up his neck, taking in the bronze skin as she made her way to his rugged yet well-sculpted face. Finally, her eyes locked with cobalt blue irises fringed by long, sooty lashes.

Rayne's breath caught in her throat.

Her pulse kicked up a notch or two and a long-forgotten awareness suddenly jolted her to the core of her being, making her pussy ache in a way she hadn't experienced in longer than she could recall. One scorching hot look from this gorgeous stranger and Rayne felt her composure slip as easily as tiny granules of sand through her fingers.

Rising above the desire that washed over her and infiltrated all the hollow spaces within her took more effort on her part than Rayne had expended in a long time.

She crooked an eyebrow at the man, feigning a sense of detachment she didn't feel.

"You believe you know something about this diamond that I don't?" she asked. Her soft British accent made her casual comment sound more like a challenge. This seemed to amuse the stranger, whose hand was still wrapped around hers, his heat and stimulating touch making her insides thrum with excitement and her pussy throb with a natural need she'd long since dismissed. One corner of his very tempting mouth lifted. It hardly constituted a smile, but it was damn sexy and it sent wicked pulses of energy through every inch of her.

He was more than devastatingly handsome.

He was her most erotic fantasy come to life.

The ends of his obsidian-colored hair dusted the collar of his crisp white shirt and the thick, too-long locks gave him a rather roguish look, despite his impeccable appearance. Chiseled cheekbones and a slightly squared, determinedly set jaw told her he was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.

Perhaps he might this time.

Then again, perhaps not.