Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,50

million dollar Man of the Year."

"That's very sweet of you to say so," Libby replied, visibly moved by the heartfelt praise.

"You know I mean every word," Sister Mary Clare said kindly. "Speaking of our Man of the Year, I want to introduce you to him. Confidentially," she went on, lowering her voice and looking at Libby with a twinkle in her eye, "I'm playing matchmaker with you two tonight. Not only is this man rich and single, he happens to be a terrific guy, too, and I think you would make a great couple."

Libby raised her hands in mock disgust. "You, playing matchmaker, Sister? Well, if you're half as good at finding me a man as you are matching children with parents, then I'd better trust your judgment." Libby laughed while Sister Mary Clare joined in.

"Come on, let's go find him." Sister Mary Clare grabbed Libby by the arm and steered her across the crowded room. “Our benefactor is actually one of our own, my dear, and he paid for your services, as well. Never was able to place him. It's a sad story, but he seems to have risen above it, if his success in the business world is any indication."

They approached a group of well-dressed men and women who stood chatting close to the bar. Sister Mary Clare tapped lightly on the shoulder of the tallest man in the group who had his back turned to her. She cleared her throat to gain his attention.

Libby almost fainted when Christopher Darnell, resplendent in a black tuxedo, white pin-tucked shirt, and red cummerbund, turned to face them. The crisply-starched shirt emphasized his tanned good looks, while the black tux made him seem inches taller and his already muscular build that much more imposing. He couldn't have appeared any more handsome if he tried.

Oblivious of Libby's gape-mouthed reaction, Sister Mary Clare addressed Chris enthusiastically.

"Chris, I'd like you to meet Libby Reed. She's the lovely young woman who..."

Before Libby could regain her composure to interrupt Sister Mary Clare's damaging use of her first name, Chris stepped in with an interruption of his own.

"No need to say any more Sister. Miss Reed and I have already met," Chris explained, extending his hand to clasp Libby's. The instant his large hand firmly but intimately grasped hers, Libby felt the familiar jolt of awareness and sensuality his touch always caused. Her knees weakened as the tingling current passed through her, leaving her awash in a turmoil of conflicting emotions.

His thoroughly masculine hand still wrapped protectively around hers, Chris peered intently at Libby. "I wasn't aware that she used the name 'Libby', however," he remarked casually. "I've always known her as Elizabeth, but I think Libby suits her much better, don't you Sister?"

Before Sister Mary Clare could reply, she was called away to attend to a crisis in the kitchen, making her apologies to them as she hastened out of sight.

Chris stared questioningly, eyebrows arched, at Libby who desperately tried to find a suitable response that would satisfy him without revealing her identity.

"I take it 'Libby' is a nickname for Elizabeth?" Chris said, his blue-green eyes now narrowed and penetrating.

Unable to find her voice, Libby merely nodded.

"H-m-m." Chris tore his gaze from hers to idly examine the wine in his glass. After a long pause, he looked at her.

"I wasn't aware it was such a popular pet name. I believe I mentioned I had the misfortune to tangle with another woman named Libby, but that was years ago." He shrugged his shoulders as if to dismiss the subject as insignificant.

"Only my close friends," she declared with emphasis, "call me Libby."

"Libby," Chris repeated, the sound of her name rolling lightly, sensually, off his tongue. "I like it. It has a nice sound to it. May I call you Libby?"

Struggling to stay calm, Libby replied with an air of defiance, "You can use it only if you consider yourself my friend." She issued the challenge knowing that if he guessed her identity, she was forcing him to choose the direction of their relationship.

"To friendship," he toasted, raising his glass in a salute to her before taking a sip.

Libby tried to fathom his intentions, but could read nothing in his half-hooded gaze and neutral tone of voice.

"May I get you something to drink, Libby?" Chris offered, emphasizing her name.

"A glass of merlot would be nice, thank you." She watched him walk over to the bar, admiring his confident stride and devastating good looks. She noticed several elegantly-dressed women eyeing