The annual Saxonâs Folly masked ball was already in full swing when Alyssa Blake crept up the cobbled drive.
âWalk tall,â she whispered to herself as she skirted the shadows between the rows of parked Mercedes and Daimler cars. âLook like you belong.â
The wineryâs historic homestead came into sight, brightly lit against the dark sky. A triple-storey white Victorian building that had withstood more than a century of fires, floods and even an infamous Hawkes Bay earthquake. With every step the music grew louder, even though Alyssa couldnât yet see the partygoers.
At the top of the stone stairs a large uniformed man blocked the double, wooden front doors. Alyssa came to a halt.
Butler?
Or guard?
She wavered for a moment, her heartbeat quickening as her eyes scanned the building.
Donât panic.
âIâve lost my invitation.â She practised the timeworn excuse to herself under her breath. It sounded lame. Particularly as sheâd never received one of the sought-after silver-embossed, midnight-blue invitations. If the guard took the time to check, he wouldnât find her on the guest list. But would he check?
Perhaps she could sashay past with a smile? What was the worst that could happen? The doorman, guardâor whatever he wasâwould fail to locate her on the list of invitees and demand her identity? No one would suspect Alyssa Blake, leading wine writer for Wine Watch magazine, of gate-crashing the annual Saxonâs Folly masked ball. Or at least only the few who knew how much Joshua Saxon, CEO of Saxonâs Folly Wines, detested Alyssa after the article sheâd done a couple of years agoâand most peopleâs memories didnât extend that far back.
There was a chance the burly doorman would let her in without a second glance. Wearing a long, ruby-red dress and her flamboyant black mask decorated with feathers and diamante studs, it was unlikely heâd suspect her being a gatecrasher. Alyssa hauled in a shaky breath.
Sheâd made up her mind to brazen her way past the doormanâguard, whateverâwhen a side door opened and light streaked out into the night. A couple slid out into the embrace of the darkness, laughing. The door swung closed but the latch failed to click shut.
Quickly, like a thief in the night, Alyssa slipped into the enormous homestead. She stood to one side of the entrance hall. Ahead of her, an imposing staircase swept upward.
At the top of the stairs Alyssa stepped into a different worldâa world of wealth and privilege where women fluttered like designer-clad butterflies in the arms of men in dress suits and bow ties.
After one glance, she dismissed the dancers. Instead she scanned the vast reception room, searching ⦠searching for the man sheâd gone to the lengths of gate-crashing a masked ball to find.
âHave you just arrived?â
She looked up into a pair of glittering dark eyes shielded by a black mask.
âIâm a little late,â she managed, her nerves rolling as the realisation sank in that sheâd made it to the ball.
âBetter late than never.â
âNever say never,â she quipped, wagging a finger at him.
He laughed. âA woman of strong opinions, right?â
âAnd proud of it.â
His voice was husky, oddly familiar ⦠and terribly sexy. A sweeping glance from behind her mask showed her that he was tall, the broad, hard planes of his body showing to best advantage in the superbly tailored dinner jacket. Dark hair topped his head while a black mask concealed his face. A handsome face, she speculated.
âDance with me.â He stretched an imperious arm out. Mr. Tall, Dark and Probably Handsome wasnât taking no for an answer.
Not that those attributes had any effect on her. She preferred her dates kind, caring and capable ⦠qualities that were becoming harder to find. She stared at the demanding arm.
âI take it that silence means yes?â
Before she could object that it most definitely meant no the arm locked around her shoulder and he propelled her toward the dance floor. She started to object. She wasnât here to celebrate the budding of the new seasonâs vines, sheâd come with a purpose ⦠and it wasnât to dance with this sexy, cocky stranger. But nor did she intend to cause a scene and be noticed.