his case, she had little regret in snubbing him. There was something distasteful about the look in Stoddard's eye. At least within Drew's green gaze she had seen the light of mischief; in Stoddard's there was nothing but cold calculation. The man was definitely to be feared. As if her thoughts had conjured up the devil, her dressing room door opened and Stoddard walked in.
"How dare you!" Blaine cried, whirling around to face him.
"Softly, goddess," he said. "No need for such temper."
Stoddard closed the door and leaned against the wooden panels, his eyes caressing her body. Blaine pulled the cloak more fully around herself as if in protection from the blatant sensuality of his gaze. She shivered involuntarily as his eyes raised to hers and she saw the blaze of passion within the pale blue depths.
"Get out!" she snapped coldly.
"I think not, my pet. This is the first chance I've had to speak to you without the interference of your two bodyguards and I have no intention of scurrying away at your disdainful command."
Stoddard moved forward, much as a hunter stalks his prey. Although her heart was pounding, Blaine refused to give ground. She locked her knees, determined to face the man in anger, not cowering like some frightened spinster. Instinctively she knew that Stoddard would be pleased by her fear and she would not give him such an easy victory.
"Willing or unwilling, I will have you, goddess."
"I would sooner couple with a filthy dustman," Blaine said, raising an eyebrow, her expression carefully aloof.
She could see by the sudden tightening of his mouth that she had scored a hit but did not relax for a moment. The man was clearly dangerous.
"You will pay for that, my dear." His voice was a thin stream of ice. He moved closer. "I have been extremely patient but I grow weary of the game. I do not understand why you remain so coy. I am sure a woman of the world, such as yourself, is fully aware of my intentions. If you mean to hold out for a better offer, please know that I am prepared to deal well with you. I am an extremely wealthy gentleman."
"Those two words do not naturally follow." Blaine spoke crisply, her cheeks flushing with anger. "A gentleman would not offer a lady such an insult."
"An actress is no lady," Stoddard sneered.
Blaine felt the color drain from her face and caught the smile of satisfaction in the hateful man's eyes. She longed to spit in his face but she reined in her fury, knowing she was far too vulnerable to anger the man.
"Your words bore me, milord. I have nothing further to say."
Ignoring her dismissal, Stoddard stepped forward until they were only a hands-breadth apart. "Your beauty leaves me breathless. Beneath the makeup, your skin is flawless."
He reached out and ran his finger down her cheek, stopping at the corner of her mouth. The skin burned beneath his touch. Blaine's eyes blazed with fury but she did not move, even when she heard the door open behind Stoddard.
"I cannot believe the lady gave you permission to enter."
At the sound of Drew Farrington's voice, Blaine felt instant relief. She pulled herself away from Stoddard's hand, wanting to scrub the place on her face that he had touched.
"Until later, goddess." Stoddard nodded his head, turned and passed in front of Drew without acknowledging the man's presence.
As the door closed, there was silence in the room. Blaine looked at the anger on Drew's face and flinched as he approached her.
"Are you all right?"
There was such tender concern in Drew's voice that Blaine felt tears rise in her throat. She blinked her eyes, determined not to cry. He opened his arms and, before Blaine could stop herself, she had stepped into the shelter of his embrace. He held her as a friend, murmuring soothing words into her ears and slowly the tremors that had invaded her body quieted.
Drew closed his arms around the actress as if his embrace could shield her from all harm. He was surprised at her height, the top of her head came to just below his chin where his lips could kiss the top of her bonnet. Her curves fit the angles and planes of his body as if they were two pieces of a puzzle. He was aware of the scent of her, a fresh gardeny aroma that seemed strangely out of place in the muggy air of the dressing room, redolent with the smell of greasepaint. He