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wives’ tale was true? What if there was only one man in the world who could reach her heart? Should she walk away because society’s rules said she should? From her childhood on a cattle station in Australia’s wildest country, she’d learned to ride straight over the top of rules.
    “Good,” said Leonhardt. He turned those mahogany eyes on her. The room shrank. Nothing at all registered in her vision except this man before her. “Good night, Miss Evard.”
    No!
    That little bow of his head and he made as if to walk away.
    “Wait.”
    “Excuse me?”
    Faith swallowed. This was like throwing a hunk of meat to a jaguar, but she’d certainly gained his attention.
    “Please, Mr. Meisner. Your car won’t be back for...” She shrugged. “...forty minutes?”
    “Fifty, perhaps.” The baritone rumble of his voice seemed to release a small earthquake in her veins.
    “Ah. I see. Then, please, stay and share a cup of tea with me.” Tea was always proper. She appealed to the concierge. “There must be somewhere?”
    “Yes, madam.” He nodded. The precise, combed lines of his gray hair didn’t move an inch. “The valet will show you to your room, and just outside, there is a terrace for our guests to partake of small refreshments. The gardens, and the desert beyond, are lovely in the moonlight.”
    “There.” She smiled at Mr. Meisner. “You must come up. Please.”
    The searching look he gave her sent tendrils of a fearful sort of joy seething through her. Had she disturbed some plan of his? Well. It would serve him right for...for being so frightfully forthright. Now, it was her turn.
    Their small circular table and the cushion-padded wrought-iron chairs were in an outer section of the semicircular terrace. The night had ticked to nine o’clock. Only one other couple shared the third-story balcony with them and they were far over on the other side. The gardens may have been riveting but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the man opposite. He was almost too large for the chair and his hand dwarfed the teacup. And his baldness–it seemed to strip away the frippery of society and leave pure man. Pure devastating maleness.
    No hint in his demeanor as to the ardent kiss in his workshop. None. Very well, she too could be cool and collected. Damn him .
    When he didn’t begin the conversation and seemed more inclined to stare out over her shoulder at the desert, Faith decided to venture some words.
    “So, Mr. Meisner–”
    His attention shifted to her and, for the sliver of a second, she paused, her throat drying to dust, urging her to swallow, but she refused to show weakness. Somehow she doubted he’d miss noticing such things.
    “Yes?” Suavely, he rearranged his shirt cuffs before lifting his cup and sipping. His Adam’s apple moved slowly and languidly. Her fingers could be there, if she but stretched out, and touched...
    She sniffed. Where had that idea come from?
    “Hmm. I was wondering if you’d heard any news of the aviation week? Is all going well?” Affecting a sureness that had deserted her, Faith raised her cup and tried not to let it clink on her teeth.
    “They say the winds may make flying dangerous. The organizers should have known this though. These winds are common here, and airplanes being as flimsy as they are, why increase the risk?”
    “I had heard that the prince was very interested in holding the meeting here. Weather can be a problem wherever you go.” Though truth be told, he was correct. High winds would be a nightmare.
    He grunted then picked up a biscuit from the small tray on the table. “You say that so glibly. Man...and woman”–he shot her a glance–“have only just figured out how to get these things in the air and yet you go about dismissing the risk. Baroness Laroche is here, isn’t she?”
    “Yes! Yes, she is! My idol. She has almost qualified for the first pilot’s license ever issued for a woman!” Tea slopped from her cup into the saucer and she had