‘Not for me,’ he growled. ‘But, then, I’m sure you’ve heard the endless scandals that seem synonymous with my name. This isn’t a high-profile charity event, but it isn’t a small gathering either. If any press spot us, your photo will be on the internet before we even get to my hotel.’

‘Is that your attempt to warn me?’ She deliberately rolled her eyes. ‘Only I make it a point never to believe idle gossip. I don’t think they know the old Kaspar.’

‘The old Kaspar?’ His brow furrowed and as two light indentations peeked out from between his eyebrows a wave of familiarity unexpectedly coursed through Archie, making her clench her fingers into a fist just to keep from reaching out and lightly skimming them even as her stomach executed another downward dive.

So he didn’t know who she was. No wonder he hadn’t reacted to her mention of her father. Sick disappointment welled in her, but instead of backing away, as she might have done, a flash of the daredevil Archie Katie had been talking about suddenly flared within her.

Maybe, just maybe she could jog his cobwebbed memory. She would rather he piece it together himself than simply hit him over the head with it. She didn’t want to risk anything that might make him back away from her.

‘You know, the pre-“Surgeon Prince of Persia” reputation,’ she prompted. ‘The kid who climbed trees, and built dens, and fought with his best friend.’

Another beat. Imperceptible to perhaps anyone else. She felt rather than saw the shift.

‘There is no pre-“Surgeon Prince of Persia”.’ He winked.

It should have irritated her, being altogether too seductive, suggestive and downright overconfident. It didn’t. She’d seen the façade sliding back into place as though he regretted his moment of perceived weakness. That tell she recognised from long ago. More polished now, but there nonetheless. Kaspar the playboy might be standing in front of her, but she’d seen the Kaspar she’d known, the one she’d wanted, was still in there. She could still unearth him. For a moment back there she had succeeded.

A thrill coursed its way through her, lending her the confidence she’d been lacking.

‘I don’t know whether to admire your confidence or deplore your arrogance.’ She cocked her head to one side as if genuinely giving it serious consideration. ‘I rather fear it’s the latter.’

‘Oh, I seriously doubt that.’

His wolfish smile did little to soothe her jangling nerves. It was as though he was enjoying the banter. Relishing the challenge. Maybe if she dropped the right prompts, he would finally realise who she was. Finally remember.

‘Are you really the blasé Lothario the press paint you as? Bedding a different woman every other night?’ she challenged.

‘Well, if it’s in the press, then it must be true.’

Which wasn’t really, she couldn’t help but notice, an answer at all. It begged the question of why, if he was more like the Kaspar she remembered than the Kaspar the media seemed to describe, he would ever have allowed this unfavourable reputation of his to slide?

‘So you haven’t slept with any of the hundreds of women you’ve been linked with over the years?’

‘I didn’t say that either.’ His teeth almost gleamed and Archie shivered as she felt their sharp edges as surely as if he had them against her skin.

Grazing her. Nipping her. An intimacy she’d read in books or experienced in her fantasies. Never in real life. Certainly not with Joe. She held his gaze, steady and sure, until eventually—incredibly—he broke his gaze.

Archie wasn’t sure who was more surprised, her or Kaspar himself.

‘I confess that I’m always impressed how I have the time to date quite so many women. Although I won’t deny that when I get chance I do enjoy the company of the fairer sex.’

Something kicked hard, low in her stomach.

‘Of course you do.’

‘I am, after all, a man.’ He took a step closer to her and she found herself backing up to the pillar, her entire body fizzing with anticipation. ‘Or are you going to pretend that you haven’t noticed?’

‘And if I said I hadn’t?’

‘I’d say that, public perceptions and exaggerations aside, I know women well enough to read that such an assertion would be a lie.’

‘Is that so?’ She barely recognised the husky voice coming out of her mouth. And Kaspar only cranked that sinful smile up all the higher.

‘That’s so. You noticed me. What’s more, you want me. Almost as much as I want you.’

‘There’s that hubris again.’

‘Perhaps it is hubris.’ He took another step closer, not looking remotely remorseful. ‘But it doesn’t make it any less true. Shall we put it to the test?’

Suddenly, she was caged. The pillar at her back and Kaspar on the other three sides. Huge, and powerful, and heady. He wasn’t actually touching her, and yet she felt the weight of him pressing in on her. Holding her immobile.

Not that she felt remotely like trying to escape.

‘You really are altogether too sure of yourself.’ She had no idea how she managed to sound so breezy.

Especially considering the frenzy into which her body currently seemed hell-bent on working itself. Lust and longing stabbed through her.

‘Imagine how disappointing it would be if you fell short.’

He actually looked affronted just for a split second, before his eyes crinkled and a warm laugh escaped his lips. It was as though all the air in the room—in the world—went into that laugh. As though she didn’t need it to breathe and could exist on that laugh alone. As though there was nothing else but Kaspar.

‘I can assure you, Archie, I do not...fall short. In any respect.’

Her name on his lips again. If only she had the guts to reach up and kiss him, to discover whether his mouth tasted just as good as she imagined. She tried to but her body wouldn’t move, probably due to this overriding need for him to recognise her properly. So in the end she simply stared back into eyes, which were all too familiar. In colour if not in expression.

‘Well, of course, you would think that.’

‘It isn’t a matter of what I think.’ His dark, indolent tone spiralled through her. Every inch of her body felt it wrapping around her. Pulling tighter. Drawing her closer. ‘It’s a matter of what I know.’

It was all she could do to offer a nonchalant eye-roll.

‘Let me guess. A hundred women hailing you as a deity in the throes of passion?’

She didn’t want to think of those stories the papers loved to run with. The fact that his sexual prowess was lauded quite as much by quite so many. Although, now he’d mentioned it, it didn’t add up that he should be quite such a driven, dedicated surgeon and yet have so much time for personal indulgences.

‘Bit of an exaggeration. Although, frankly, I wasn’t thinking of a single other woman. I was only interested in one. And she’s standing right in front of me.’

‘Oh, you are good,’ she conceded, hoping against hope she didn’t look half as flushed as she felt.

Hoping he couldn’t hear the drumming of her heart or the roaring of blood in her ears. Hoping he couldn’t read the lust pouring through her and making her nipples ache they were so tight. Hoping he couldn’t feel the heavy heat pooling at the apex of her legs the way no man had ever made her feel before. At least not quite so wantonly.

She had a terrible fear that perhaps no other man would make her feel that ever again.

‘Care to confirm that conclusion?’ he murmured, his voice pouring over her just the way she would imagine warm, melted chocolate would do.

If she’d ever been that sexually adventurous, of course. Which she never had been. She imagined this version of Kaspar was, though, and the thought made her pulse leap in her wrists, at her throat.

What was the matter with her?

Kaspar didn’t miss a thing. His eyes dropped to watch the accelerated beat, his face so close she could almost draw her breath as he exhaled his. His eyes never left hers, their intentions unmistakeable.