Chapter Nine

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The doorbell rang and Sophie grabbed her purse and the mink wrap that Laura had chosen for her. A slinky gold Dior gown hugged her curves, a replica of a Dior from the 1930's. Sophie looked elegant, stately even. This was exactly what Laura was going for, given that Sophie and Ian would be attending a special dinner party given in honor of the Spanish ambassador. She would never get used to these beautiful clothes, this house, this world. Didn't want to. Soon it would be over. She reminded herself that it was all worth it. She had a photograph hanging up in the Eldermoore gallery less than two months after working there as a cater waiter. Never mind that she'd nearly had sex with Ian on a beach. Never mind that she was falling for him. Ian was as temporary as everything he'd brought into his life.

She opened the door and Ian, in a black tux, stared. "You look fucking incredible."

So did he. His dark hair was perfectly messy, his green eyes bright. The tux was perfectly fitted to his broad shoulders and slim frame. There was something so classically sexy about a man in a tux. And a man as handsome as Ian...it was plain sinful.

She smiled. "I do clean up nice, don't I?" Sophie flushed under his brazen examination of the dress. "Does this meet with your approval?"

"Most definitely." He handed her his arm and they walked to his Aston Martin together.

"This one's my favorite," she said, pointing to the car.

"Mine, too."

It was a short drive to the Tate, where an elegant private dining room that seated twenty was set aside for the dinner. Ian had organized the event in the hopes of solidifying relations between Spain and the Tate, as the Barcelona Tate was set to open in just a few short weeks.

"I should warn you," he said as they left the car with the valet, "my brother is coming tonight. He can be an ornery bastard when he wants to be, so don't let him get to you."

"Now you're making me nervous," she said.

"Just be yourself. I'm curious to see how he'll react to you. It's a nice trick, eh? He won't know I'm actually there to steal an heiress right out from under him."

"You know, Ian, you're a bit diabolical."

He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

As soon as they arrived, all eyes were on Ian and Sophie. Ian flashed his perfect smile, leading Sophie in with the slightest pressure at the small of her back. Ian had already told her that he'd purposefully had them separated at the table so that she could sit between two of his potential wife candidates.

The table where the dinner was to take place was a vision. Candles were lit down the middle with artichoke and rose centerpieces. Delicate china and golden cloth napkins were set at each place along with gold plated silverware. A small bar was set up in the corner where guests could get drinks. Ian got them both a glass of champagne and then the rounds began.

"And who have we here?" asked an elderly woman dripping with jewels.

"Mrs. Sorenson, so nice to see you," Ian said. "This is my dear friend Sophie Kinsale. She's a local photographer."

Sophie held out her hand. "So nice to meet you."

Mrs. Sorenson turned to Ian. "Is she just a friend or do I have to break my daughter's heart," she teased with a smile.

"Just a friend," he said.

It's complicated, Sophie thought.

"Señor Acosta," Ian said, drawing her toward the Spanish ambassador. "We're honored to be hosting you."

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