Книга - Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini’s Revenge Affair: Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini’s Revenge Affair

Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini's Revenge Affair: Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini's Revenge Affair
Yvonne Lindsay

Heidi Betts


Be swept away by passion… with intense drama and compelling plots, these emotionally powerful reads will keep you captivated from beginning to end.Christmas in His Royal Bed Heidi Betts The moment Prince Nicolas saw sultry Alandra Sanchez, he wanted her for his mistress. Determined to have her in his bed by Christmas, he lured her with a job at his island palace. Nicolas would stop at nothing to satisfy his lust, including seducing her with a little royal treatment.Rossellini’s Revenge Affair Yvonne Lindsay Lana Whittaker had been clueless about her late husband’s affair. Yet, unbelievably, she was left penniless, homeless and the guardian of her husband’s baby by his mistress! So when a stranger, a darkly handsome millionaire businessman, offered to help, she had to accept…







Christmas in His Royal Bedby Heidi Betts






“You have two weeks left in Glendovia, and I fully intend to enjoy them. To enjoy you.”

Nicolas moved closer, his arms drawing her into his embrace. “I know that you’ll need to spend your days working. But your evenings will be free. And I’ll expect you to spend them with me, in my bed.”

“Absolutely not.” Alandra shook her head and took a step back, breaking away from his touch.

As much as he wanted to close the distance between them and kiss the quarrel from her lips, he remained where he was, allowing her to believe a few inches of space would keep her safe from him.


Rossellini’s Revenge Affairby Yvonne Lindsay






Raffaele despised her with every breath in his body.

Lana was widowed, when she should have been a divorcée. Tall, elegant, unnaturally composed. Had she even loved her dead husband? He doubted it. If she’d loved him, she would have let him go. Let him go to Maria, Raffaele’s sister, instead of clinging to a marriage long dead.

Would his treasured sister be lying in a hospital bed right now, supported only by life-giving machinery, if Lana had only given in to her husband’s repeated requests to be set free? Set free before the birth of a child who would now never know its father or its mother.

He’d failed to protect his sister but he would not fail her unborn child.

Raffaele Rossellini never made the same mistake twice.


HEIDI BETTS

An avid romance reader since school, Heidi knew early on that she wanted to write these wonderful stories of love and adventure. It wasn’t until her first year of college, however, when she spent the entire night reading a romance novel instead of studying for finals, that she decided to take the road less travelled and follow her dream. As well as devoting her time to reading, writing and creating romance, she is the founder of her local Romance Writers of America chapter. She also has a tendency to take injured and homeless animals of every species into her Central Pennsylvania home.

Heidi loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at PO Box 99, Kylertown, PA 16847, USA (an SAE with return posatge is appreciated, but not necessary) or e-mail heidi@heidibetts.com. And be sure to visit www.heidibetts.com for news and information about new books.



Dear Reader,

I’ve always wanted to write a story involving some type of royalty…a prince hero or princess heroine. I also knew that I wanted to give Alandra Sanchez, whom I introduced in my April 2008 Desire™ book, Blackmailed into Bed, a very special hero of her own. Well, what could be more special than a prince, right? Putting them both together seemed like the perfect solution. Add to that the opportunity I was given to set this story during the holidays, and I was one happy camper!

I hope you enjoy Christmas in His Royal Bed and this little jaunt through the island kingdom of Glendovia.

And don’t forget to visit my website, www. HeidiBetts.com, as often as you like for information about all of my books!

Happy holidays!

Heidi Betts





Christmas in His Royal Bed


HEIDI BETTS




Rossellini’s Revenge Affair


YVONNE LINDSAY




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


In loving memory of Helen Brown. When she passed away this time last year after a long and valiant battle with breast cancer, I lost a friend, and the romance world lost a dedicated fan. We miss you, Helen. And if Heaven is any kind of Heaven at all, it will be filled with romance novels for you to enjoy.

And with much appreciation to loyal reader Jennifer Yates, who, when I challenged readers to help me out, came up with many of the names used in this story. Thanks, Jennifer!




CHRISTMAS IN HIS ROYAL BED


by

Heidi Betts


One

Only she would do.

Prince Stephan Nicolas Braedon of Glendovia watched the ebony-haired beauty from afar. Tall and lithe, with an hourglass figure, she had silky black hair that fell in a straight curtain to her hips. He was too far away to know the color of her eyes or see the full pout of her lips, but he trusted the feeling in his gut that told him both would be just as alluring as the rest of her.

Cocking his head toward the tall, suited man at his side, he said in a low voice, “Find out her name.”

His bodyguard followed the direction of his gaze, then gave a stiff nod before moving away. Nicolas didn’t need to ask how Osric intended to get the information, nor did he care.

A few minutes later, his bodyguard returned, standing at attention at Nicolas’s side.

“Her name is Alandra Sanchez, Your Highness. She is in charge of the organization of this evening’s event.”

Alandra. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

She floated around the large, crowded ballroom, smiling, chatting with guests, making sure everything was running smoothly. The full-length lavender gown she wore shimmered in the muted lighting every time she moved, and fit her perfect feminine curves like a glove.

Nicolas hadn’t attended this fund-raising dinner in hopes of finding a lover, but now that he’d seen her, he knew he wouldn’t be leaving the United States without making arrangements for her to become his next mistress.

It was true that he was the member of the royal family in charge of overseeing Glendovia’s charitable organizations, but his duties did not extend to attending charitable events outside of his own country. That, he usually left to his sister or one of his two brothers.

But though his sister, Mia, had been scheduled to make the trip to the States and attend this dinner to raise funds for a new children’s wing at a central Texas hospital, she’d had to cancel at the last minute. Since Nicolas was to meet with very wealthy oilmen to discuss fuel for his country, he decided to attend.

Until a few minutes ago, he had been resenting the interruption of his own life and plans, and all but cursing his sister for being the cause. Now, however, he was considering sending Mia a bouquet of flowers or a box of her favorite truffles. He wanted to thank her for putting him on a path to what could turn out to be an extremely pleasurable experience.

Smiling so brightly the muscles in her cheeks ached, Alandra Sanchez moved around the room, making sure everything was running smoothly. She’d been working to set up this gala for months now, in hopes of raising both awareness and money for the new children’s hospital wing.

Unfortunately, things weren’t going quite as well as she’d hoped, and Alandra knew she had only herself to blame.

Everyone in the room seemed to be watching her. She could see their curiosity. Sense their condemnation.

All because she’d had the dreadful misfortune to get mixed up with the wrong man.

Of all the things that could have happened to put a damper on this evening’s event, this was the worst. A hurricane, a flash flood, even the hotel catching on fire…

Those were all disasters she could have handled. They barely would have caused a blip on her radar. But instead, she was being personally attacked, her reputation besmirched.

It served her right for ever getting involved with Blake Winters in the first place. She should have known the minute she met him that he would end up causing her nothing but trouble.

And now everyone in this room—everyone in Gabriel’s Crossing, the great state of Texas and possibly the entire United States of America—thought she was a home-wrecking adulteress.

That’s what the newspaper gossip columns were saying about her. Her picture, along with Blake’s and that of his wife and two children, had been plastered everywhere, with glaring, slanderous headlines.

Ignoring the stares and whispers she knew were aimed in her direction, Alandra held her head high and continued wending her way through the ballroom, acting as though nothing was wrong. As though her heart wasn’t racing, her face wasn’t flushed with humiliation and her palms weren’t damp with anxiety.

Nothing that had happened in the week since the story of her affair with Blake Winters broke had led her to believe the fund-raising dinner wouldn’t still be a complete success. None of the invited guests had cancelled, making excuses for why they couldn’t attend. No one from the hospital benevolence society had called to complain about the scandal she found herself suddenly embroiled in, or to voice concerns about her name being linked to the organization.

All of which led her to believe everything would be fine. That even though reporters were camped out on her front lawn, the rest of her life continued to run smoothly.

Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. Now, she thought perhaps every seat in the room was filled because the cream of central Texas high society wanted an up-close-and-personal glimpse of one of their own who had so recently fallen from grace.

She might as well have a scarlet letter pinned to her chest or a piece of spinach stuck in her teeth, for all the attention being focused on her every move.

The attention—even negative attention—she could handle. What concerned her more than the stares and whispers was the impact her newly sullied reputation might have on the amount of money collected this evening.

She’d worked so hard to put this event together, was so passionate about her philanthropy, giving of both her time and money to support the causes she felt most strongly about. And she had always been quite successful in convincing others to give to those causes, too.

Usually, by this point in the evening, she would already have collected a dozen extremely generous checks slipped to her by those in attendance, with more to follow at the end of the night. Tonight, however, her hands—and the hospital’s coffers—were still empty.

Because she’d had the misfortune of meeting Blake Winters at another fund-raiser last year, and hadn’t been wise enough to turn him away when he’d started asking her out, those who were most in need could very well end up going without.

The prospect broke her heart, and she pressed a hand to the snug satin stays sewn into the lining of her gown in an attempt to settle the nervous caterpillars squirming and wiggling in her belly.

She would act as though nothing was wrong, nothing was out of the ordinary—and pray like the dickens that the crowd got over their curiosity and remembered their true purpose for being here before the evening was over. Otherwise, she had a sneaking suspicion her personal bank account would be taking a hard hit when she attempted to single-handedly make up for what the children’s wing fund should have earned tonight. And probably would have, if not for her bad luck and some of the poor decisions she’d made recently.

Once she’d made her loop through the crowd to be sure every seat was filled, every guest served and everything was running as smoothly as possible, she returned to her own place at the front of the room, where a raised dais had been set up for the event’s organizers. She made small talk with the women on either side of her and choked down her meal, barely tasting a bite.

Next came a speech from the organization’s president, and a short ceremony where plaques were given to several members who had gone above and beyond in the past year. Even Alandra received one, for her continued dedication to raising money for the hospital.

Finally, the evening drew to an end, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She was now holding a few generous checks, and had received promises for more. Not as many as she’d collected in the past, and she had definitely noticed a distinct difference in the way people had treated her throughout the evening. But at least things were looking a bit brighter than they had when the night began.

She made a final round of the room, nodding farewells to guests as they exited the ballroom, and making sure no one left anything behind before the hotel staff started cleaning up.

Gathering her own small, beaded clutch and shawl from her seat, she found her mind racing ahead to what she needed to do the next day—thoughts that were interrupted when she heard a low, masculine voice call her name.

“Miss Sanchez?”

Turning, she found herself dwarfed by a wide-shouldered, dark-haired mountain of a man.

She swallowed once before pasting a smile on her face and tipping her head up, up, up to meet his gaze.

“Yes?”

“If you have a minute, my employer would like to speak with you.”

He inclined his head, drawing her attention to the back of the room, where a lone gentleman sat at one of the now-cleared round tables.

From what she could see at this distance, he was quite handsome.

He was also staring at her.

“Your employer?” she asked.

“Yes, miss.”

So much for gaining more information about who, exactly, the mountain’s employer was.

But if he had attended tonight’s dinner, then he was likely a current or potential donor, and she always had time to speak with a contributor. Especially one who could afford his own bodyguard, or CIA agent, or professional wrestler….

“Of course,” she said, maintaining her bright, upbeat demeanor.

Turning sideways, the giant gestured for her to move ahead of him, and then escorted her across the nearly empty room. Around them, dishes clinked and stacked chairs clattered as the kitchen and cleaning staff worked to disassemble what had taken all day to set up.

As she approached the man who wished to speak with her, he lifted a flute of champagne and took a long sip.

He wore a smartly tailored jacket of navy blue, cut quite differently than most of those she’d seen throughout the night. He definitely was not a local.

She also noticed that her earlier perception of him being “quite handsome” was a gross inaccuracy. He was movie-star gorgeous, with dark hair and startling blue eyes that seemed to bore into her like laser beams.

Holding out her hand, she introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Alandra Sanchez.”

“I know,” he replied, taking her hand and refusing to let it go as he tugged her gently forward. “Have a seat, won’t you, please.”

Letting her shawl fall lower on her bare back, she slid onto the chair beside him. “Your…employee said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Yes,” he replied slowly. “May I offer you a glass of champagne?”

She opened her mouth to refuse, but the hulk was already pouring and setting a glass in front of her.

“Thank you.”

Though they both had drinks now, and the evening’s event was clearly over, the man seated beside her still didn’t speak. The silence made Alandra shift uncomfortably, and caused gooseflesh to break out along her arms.

“What did you need to speak with me about, Mr.…” she finally pressed, careful to remain as polite as possible.

“You may call me Nicolas,” he replied.

His voice carried a slight accent. Perhaps the hint of a British lilt, but Alandra couldn’t place it.

“Nicolas,” she repeated, because he seemed to expect it. Then she continued in her attempts to get to his reason for wanting to speak with her.

“Were you interested in making a donation to the fund for the new children’s cancer wing of the hospital?” she asked. “If so, I would be happy to accept a check tonight. Or if you’d prefer, I can put you in touch with someone from the organization you can speak with, to make your contribution personally.”

For a moment after she finished, he simply continued to study her, his lapis-blue eyes sharp and commandingly intense.

After taking another sip of the expensive champagne, he slowly said, “I would be happy to give to your little…cause. However, that is not why I invited you over here.”

Alandra’s eyes widened fractionally at that, but she did her best to hide her consternation.

“I am staying in a suite of rooms here in this hotel,” he informed her. “I’d like for you to return there with me. Spend the rest of the evening in my bed. If things go well and we are…compatible, perhaps we can discuss further arrangements.”

Alandra blinked, but otherwise remained frozen in place, her entire body mannequin-stiff and unmoving. She couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d lifted a hand and slapped her across the face.

She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what she should say.

This certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been propositioned. Young or old, rich or poor, men had always been attracted to her, and she’d had more than her share of invitations to dinner, the theater, even romantic jaunts to private island hideaways.

And, yes, she was well aware that every single one of those men had hopes that dinner, the theater and tropical getaways would help him to seduce her into his bed.

But never—never—had any of them been so bold, so brash, as to flat-out ask her to sleep with him.

This was all because of the scandal, she realized suddenly, her spine snapping straight with offense. Those bloody articles had labeled her an immoral home wrecker. And this man had obviously gotten wind of that and decided she wouldn’t be averse to an indecent proposal.

Well, she was averse. She was disgusted and thoroughly insulted.

Pushing her chair back, she rose to her feet, rearranged her shawl across her back and arms, and tightened her fingers on her small clutch purse. Concentrating on her breathing, she stood perfectly rigid, looking down at him.

“I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am. But I can assure you I’m not the kind to go to bed with a man I’ve just met.”

She cut a quick glance at the bear standing at attention a yard or two away. “Maybe your bodyguard can find someone a little more willing and a lot less discriminating to go back to your room with you tonight. That is, if you’re utterly incapable of finding her on your own.”

With that, Alandra turned on her heel and marched out of the ballroom to the elevator.

Just who the hell did the man think he was?


Two

Who did she think she was to speak to him in such a manner?

Nicolas had never been turned down like that before.

He blinked once, slowly, searching his memory for a similar incident that might have taken place during his lifetime.

No, he didn’t think he’d been turned down ever.

Had she actually implied that he was incapable of finding his own female companionship? Or that he had to order Osric to pay a woman to spend time with him?

He shook his head, still not quite believing what had just taken place. Behind him, Osric shuffled closer, looming over his right shoulder.

“Your Highness, shall I go after her and bring her back so that you may finish your conversation?”

Nicolas could picture his oversize bodyguard, who closely resembled a brick wall, tackling Miss Sanchez to the ground and carting her back to him…and the fuss the lady would kick up if he so much as tried.

“No, thank you, Osric,” he replied. “I believe I’ll be returning to the suite alone this evening.”

Placing his hands on the tabletop in front of him, he stood and straightened the front of his jacket, then started out of the ballroom, with his trusty security guard close on his heels.

He should be upset, Nicolas thought, as they made their way through the hotel to his private, luxurious suite on the thirty-third floor.

Ironically, he was more intrigued than ever by the ebony-haired beauty. It was her face and figure that had first caught his attention, and seeing her up close hadn’t changed his mind about having her in his bed.

He would have expected a dressing-down such as she’d given him to turn him off, to make him realize he didn’t want to sleep with a woman who possessed such a sharp tongue. Instead, her spirit fired his blood.

If anything, he found himself wanting her more. She was lovely and fierce, and he could only imagine how passionately those qualities would translate between the sheets.

Alandra Sanchez might think she’d gotten in the last word downstairs, when she’d all but told him to take his offer and go straight to the devil. But Prince Stephan Nicolas Braedon was used to getting his way, getting what he wanted.

And he wanted her.

So he would have her. He only had to figure out how.

One week later…

“Pop? Alandra? Is anybody here?”

Alandra heard her sister calling from downstairs, and was more than happy to take a break from the event plans she’d been working on all afternoon.

Since Elena had moved out of their father’s house and into her own with her new husband, Chase, Alandra didn’t get to see her as often as she used to.

Abandoning her desk, she found her sister looking slightly frazzled as she flipped through a pile of mail stacked beside a large arrangement of fresh flowers on the round table in the center of the foyer. When she heard Alandra’s approach, Elena raised her head and rolled her eyes.

“A reporter tried to follow my car through the security gate,” she snapped, waving a hand over her shoulder in the direction of the front door. “He was camped out front, waiting.”

Alandra frowned, moving closer to give her sister a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I really thought they’d have lost interest by now and moved on to something else.”

“It’s not your fault,” Elena said with a sigh, returning Alandra’s hug. “And eventually they will lose interest and move on.”

“So what are you doing here?” she asked distractedly, her mind still on the reporter. It was one thing for her to be harassed and annoyed because of her own foolish actions, but it was another for her family to be dragged into this mess.

“Since Chase won’t be home for dinner because of a late meeting, I thought I’d stop by to say hello, see how you and Pop are doing, and grab a bite to eat. Not to mention picking up any stray mail,” she added, stuffing a few letters into the side pocket of her handbag.

Her sister had married and moved out last year, but the change-of-address process took time, and the odd letter or piece of mail showed up for her occasionally.

“Well, dinner will be served at seven, as usual, and as far as I know, everything is fine around here. Pop is still at the office, and I’ve just been working on the plans for that fund-raiser for the animal shelters.”

“Will Chase and I be invited?” Elena asked.

“Of course.”

“Looks like you got something important,” her sister said, nodding toward the letter left on top of the stack.

Alandra picked up the thick envelope and read the return address, which was embossed in dark blue, fancy raised script on parchment-quality stationery. “H.R.H. Prince Stephan Nicolas Braedon, Kingdom of Glendovia.”

“His Royal Highness?” Elena asked. “Really? You got a letter from a prince?”

“It appears so.” She opened the envelope and skimmed the official-looking letterhead and neatly typed text of the top page. Then, heart stuttering, she read it again. “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

“What?”

“This Prince Stephan wants me to come to his kingdom and oversee all of their fund-raising organizations.”

Both sisters scanned the letter. It touched on Alandra’s past fund-raising accomplishments, which the prince claimed were very impressive, and stressed how much Glendovia could use her assistance. He even went so far as to enclose copies of a contract for her employment that he hoped she would peruse and strongly consider signing.

Lifting the cover sheet, Alandra read the one-page agreement. It briefly outlined her duties and obligations, if she chose to accept the royal family’s offer, as well as their obligations to her.

“Do you think this is legitimate?” Elena demanded.

The Braedon name did ring some bells. “I guess it would be easy enough to check out,” she replied.

The two of them went into Alandra’s office, where she started going through her guest lists, and her sister did a quick search on the Internet.

“Huh,” Elena said when they discovered at almost the same moment that Stephan Nicolas Braedon was, indeed, a bona fide prince, and the island of Glendovia really did exist. According to Alandra’s records, another member of the Braedon royal family—a Princess Mia—had attended one of her recent fund-raisers.

“What are you going to do?” Elena asked.

“Well, I’ll reply, of course, and thank him for the generous offer, but I can’t possibly accept. I’m already knee-deep in organizing my next event, and Christmas is a month off. I don’t want to be away from my family over the holidays.”

“I don’t blame you, but you have to admit it’s a flattering offer.”

Extremely flattering, Alandra thought, glancing once again at the raised script of the letterhead. She almost wanted to reach out and run her fingertips over the prince’s name. Her letter of refusal definitely wouldn’t be an easy one to write.

“But maybe…”

Alandra glanced at her sister. “What?”

“I was just thinking that maybe this position in Glendovia is exactly what you need.”

Alandra frowned. “What?”

“Well, things are anything but simple around here for you right now. You’ve got a reporter camped outside the house, that jerk Winters still calling you, and…well…” Her gaze skittered away and her voice softened slightly. “I heard that last week’s fund-raiser didn’t go as well as your events usually do.”

Alandra took a breath, trying not to let the pain of having her shortcomings pointed out by her own flesh and blood overwhelm her.

Running a supportive hand down her arm, Elena continued. “I was just thinking that if you got away for a while, where no one could find you, this would all blow over. And when you came back, you could get on with your life as though none of it had ever happened.”

“But I would be away from you guys,” Alandra murmured. “Over Christmas.”

“You could come back before then. But even if you didn’t, it’s only one holiday. There’s always next year.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, her sister added, “I don’t necessarily want you to go, I’m just saying that maybe you should think it over and do what’s best for you. I think Pop would agree.”

“I’ll consider it,” Alandra said, realizing her sister was making a good point. Perhaps the best way to leave all this scandal behind was to fly off to a foreign country.


Three

Less than a week later, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, Alandra arrived on the island of Glendovia, hoping against hope that she’d made the right decision.

Her flight had been uneventful. And a limousine had been waiting at the airport for her, as promised in the itinerary that had been faxed to her as soon as she’d accepted Prince Stephan’s offer.

Staring out the window as the car sped through the countryside, Alandra was swept away by the beauty of the tiny island country. Located in a northern area of the Mediterranean, it was postcard perfect, with a clear azure sky, rolling emerald hills, and the sprawling blue-green of the sea visible in the distance.

Even what she assumed to be the center of the capital seemed more quaint and clean than anywhere she’d traveled in America or Europe. The buildings were tall, but not mammoth. The streets were busy, but not crowded and harried.

Things seemed more tranquil here, and for the first time since scrawling her name across the bottom of that employment contract, she thought she might actually be glad she’d agreed to come.

Her family had supported the decision wholeheartedly, wanting her to be happy and get away from the scandal they knew was causing her such pain. She had accepted the position in order to protect them from a part of her life that had gotten ugly, in hope it would not spill over onto them.

The limousine slowed and waited for a tall, antique iron gate to slide open. They drove up a long, winding lane that ran among pristine, well-manicured lawns and gardens.

The house—palace was a better word—was somewhat historical in design, but looked updated and modern. Eggshell-white, with pillars and balconies and a myriad of floor-to-ceiling windows, it stood atop a small rise overlooking the splashing waves of the Mediterranean.

As the driver opened the door and helped her out of the vehicle, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the breathtaking view. Alandra continued to gawk while the driver removed her bags from the trunk and escorted her to the front door.

A butler opened it and invited her inside, where a handful of maids dressed in matching gray uniforms collected her luggage and trotted off with it.

The butler said, “The prince has requested you be brought to him immediately upon your arrival, Miss Sanchez. If you’ll follow me.”

Feeling as though she’d just stepped into a fairy tale, Alandra did just that, taking in every detail of the foyer as they passed.

The floor was of highly polished marble in squares of black and a mottled gray-white. A chandelier the size of a small bus hung overhead, with thousands of dangling crystals twinkling in the natural light. Directly across from the front entrance stood a wide staircase leading halfway to the second level before branching off to either side.

The butler led her to the right of the foyer and down a carpeted corridor lined with priceless artwork. He paused at one of the closed doors and knocked. When a low, muffled voice bade him enter, he stepped inside, announced Alandra’s presence and then moved aside for her to pass.

The personal office was decidedly masculine, with a dark area rug, built-in bookshelves lining three of the four walls, and a large cherrywood desk taking up a good portion of the room.

Dragging her gaze from the impressive surroundings, Alandra turned her attention to the man sitting behind that desk…only to feel her eyes go wide and her mouth fall open.

“You.”

“Miss Sanchez.” He rose and regally rounded the desk until he stood directly in front of her. “How good of you to accept my offer and come to work for our family.”

“You’re Prince Stephan—”

“Nicolas Braedon of Glendovia, yes. You may call me Nicolas.”

Nicolas. The same Nicolas who had asked her over for a glass of champagne and then invited her to sleep with him.

Her mouth went dry with shock, her stomach clenching and her pulse kicking as though she’d just run a marathon.

How could this be happening?

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice faint as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. “Why would you invite me to work for you after the way we parted? All you wanted from me then was…”

Realization dawned.

“You did this on purpose. You lured me here under false pretenses so that I would sleep with you.”

“My dear Miss Sanchez,” he replied, standing straight as a sword, with his hands clasped behind his back, “Glendovia is very much in need of someone to organize its charitable foundations. And, after seeing you in action, I decided you would be the perfect person for the job.”

“And you’ve changed your mind about wanting me in your bed?” she challenged.

Nicolas studied the woman in front of him, struggling not to smile at her forthright manner and the fury snapping in her brown, almond-shaped eyes. It was a sight to behold, and only made him more certain of the wisdom of the campaign he’d put in motion.

Her rejection of him during his stay in America hadn’t dulled his desire for her at all. He had decided, not long after, that since the direct approach hadn’t worked, perhaps he needed to go about attaining his goal in a more subtle way.

When it came to Alandra Sanchez, it seemed a bit of seduction was in order.

It had taken him a few days after returning home to land on the idea of asking her to his country for an extended stay. He knew she wouldn’t accept if he merely invited her…or if she knew he was extending the invitation, for that matter.

But because they had philanthropy in common, he knew that was the one motive that had a chance of catching her attention. There was also the rather generous bonus he’d included in the employment contract as an added incentive—two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to be donated by him to a charity of her choosing once she’d fulfilled her part of the bargain.

And now she was here, exactly where he wanted her.

Not that she looked even remotely willing to jump into bed with him at the moment. But as with everything else, that would come.

He would see to it.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he murmured, replying to her question about whether or not he’d changed his mind about wanting her in his bed. “But I am certainly capable of separating business from pleasure.”

Without giving her a chance to argue, he continued. “Come. I’ll show you to your room, where you can unpack and perhaps rest before supper.”

Dropping his arms to his sides, he stepped around her and crossed the room to open the door.

“Don’t bother,” she replied curtly behind his back. “I’m not staying.”

Half turning to face her once again, he maintained a neutral expression. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are. You signed a contract.”

“Contract be damned.” She started for the door, her demeanor icy.

He waited for her to pass, then caught her arm as she marched down the empty hallway. “Are you really willing to deprive one of your favorite charities of a quarter of a million dollars?”

The reminder stopped her in her tracks, and he pressed his advantage. “If you leave, reneging on the agreement, you forfeit the bonus. Stay through the month of December and you will not only be paid the agreed-upon wage, but will also earn a hefty sum to bestow as you see fit.”

He could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she weighed her options. Leave, and she would be safe from him; he would have no opportunity to try to lure her into his bed. Stay, and she would be all but walking into the lion’s den, but would also end up earning a quarter of a million dollars to fund one of her pet projects. It was a compelling enticement.

The seconds ticked by while she stood in the middle of the hall, wracked with indecision. Once again, he chose to give her a small nudge in the direction he wished her to go.

Moving closer, he placed a hand at the small of her back. She stiffened and pulled away just enough to break the contact.

“Please,” he said diplomatically, “allow me to show you where you’ll be staying if you elect to remain and fulfill your contract. The family will gather in the dining room for dinner at eight o’clock. I’d like you to be there, if you would, to meet everyone. After that, if you still wish to return to the United States…”

He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I won’t say I’ll let you go without penalty, but I will be willing to discuss the situation further.”

For a moment, he thought she would continue her retreat. And then the rigid line of her spine relaxed slightly and her shoulders lifted as she inhaled a deep breath.

Without turning around, she said, “Fine. I’ll stay through dinner.”

“Excellent. Come along, then,” he replied, careful not to let his satisfaction show as he stepped around her and walked the rest of the way down the hall.

He led her through the foyer and up the curved staircase, toward the west wing. There were more hallways and a second set of stairs before they reached the suites of rooms reserved for guests.

The royal family’s quarters were located in the east wing, on the opposite end of the palace. But that was for the best. If his plan to seduce Alandra succeeded, their relationship could be kept almost completely secret, thanks to the relative privacy of the west wing and the fact that she would be the only person in residence there for the next month.

Reaching her suite, he opened the heavy, carved mahogany door, standing just inside to allow her to enter ahead of him. Briefly, he showed her the sprawling sitting room, with its large-screen plasma television and DVD library. Nicolas hadn’t known her personal tastes, so he’d ordered the room to be stocked with a variety of choices, any of which she could exchange in the family’s entertainment room whenever she liked.

Glancing thrthat Alandra’sicolas was happy to note that Alandra’s things had already been unpacked and put away. She was carefully observing her surroundings, and if she was offended that the palace staff had handled her belongings, she didn’t say so. She looked pleased with the accommodations, her expressive eyes taking in every detail of the beautifully decorated rooms.

“I’ll leave you alone now, to rest or take a tour of the grounds, whatever you like. One of the staff can show you to the dining room when you’re ready.”

Turning on his heel, he left her standing in the middle of the bedroom.

Alandra watched him go, still seething at his manipulation, and yet not so angry that she failed to notice the handsome, regal picture he made as he exited.

She supposed she should be flattered that a prince wanted her in his bed. Most women would be, she imagined.

The problem was that he hadn’t seemed interested in her, in getting to know her or starting a relationship with her. His request when they’d met in Texas was to take her to bed for a night—or perhaps a handful of nights. And because of who he was, he expected her to simply acquiesce.

Even if she might have been attracted to him otherwise, that fact turned her off entirely. She didn’t want to be some playboy prince’s temporary intimate diversion.

With a sigh, she began to explore her rooms, checking to see where all her things had been stored. Dresses, blouses and slacks hung in the wardrobe. More casual tops and pants had been folded and stacked in the dresser, along with her underthings. And her toiletries had been lined up on the bathroom counter or tucked into the available drawers. Even the books and folders she’d brought, for work and for leisure, had been neatly stacked on a small desk set before one of the windows overlooking the balcony.

She hadn’t made up her mind yet about whether she planned to stay, but had to admit that if she did decide to fulfill her bargain with the Prince of Lies, the view alone would make her visit feel less like manipulation and more like a paid vacation.

Stepping onto the wide stone balcony, she moved to the railing and gazed out at the ocean beyond. Waves rolled to the shore, bringing with them a gentle lulling sound that could soothe even the most restless soul.

Glancing at her watch, Alandra saw that she still had a couple of hours before she needed to start getting ready for dinner with the royal family. The thought of meeting them caused her stomach to dip dizzily.

But she would deal with that when she had to. For now, she would call home to let her father and sister know she’d arrived safely, and to maybe get Elena’s advice about her current situation.

Should she stay or should she go? Should she tell the prince just what he could do with his devious, conniving contract, and walk away from the chance to gift a quarter of a million dollars to a charity that could dearly use the money? Or should she swallow her pride and do what she had to to get through the month?


Four

At five minutes to eight that evening, Alandra followed the maze of hallways on the palace’s second floor and found her way to the main staircase. The maid who had come to check up on her earlier had given her general directions to the dining room, and Alandra thought she could find it on her own.

But she needn’t have worried. As soon as she reached the stairs, she found Nicolas standing at the bottom, waiting for her.

He was dressed in a dark suit, which made her feel better about her own outfit. She hadn’t known quite what to wear to her first dinner with a royal family, so had opted for a simple blue silk dress.

“Good evening,” Nicolas said in greeting, watching her intently as she descended the stairs.

Alandra felt a skittering of awareness as his gaze swept her from head to toe. No doubt about it, this man was dangerous. If she decided to stay, she would have to be very careful not to let those blue eyes and his handsome face lure her in and make her do something she wouldn’t normally do.

“Good evening,” she replied, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

“May I?” he asked, offering his arm.

She hesitated only a second before accepting, lightly slipping her hand around his elbow.

“You look lovely,” he told her as they crossed the marble floor. The chandelier had been turned on, sending bright, twinkling light throughout the foyer and beyond.

“Thank you.”

She was saved from having to make further conversation as they reached the dining room. Nicolas opened one of the tall double doors, ushering her inside.

The room was as opulent as the rest of the palace. A long, narrow trestle table ran the length of it, surrounded by heavy, high-backed chairs with seats embroidered with what must be the Braedon family crest. Light trickled down from another chandelier hanging over the table, and glowed from many wall sconces.

The queen and king were already seated at the table, which held intricate place settings laid out for six guests. Nicolas guided her forward, stopping near what she assumed would be her seat.

“Mother, Father, I’d like you to meet Alandra Sanchez. She’s from the United States and will be our guest for the next month while she works to help us better organize Glendovia’s charitable foundations. And hopefully increase their profit margin. Alandra, this is my father, King Halden, and my mother, Queen Eleanor.”

The older man rose and came halfway around the table, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Welcome to Glendovia, my dear.

We appreciate the work you’ll be doing on behalf of our country.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied, only slightly intimidated by meeting and speaking with a real live king. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Turning toward the queen, Alandra noticed that she’d remained seated. And when Alandra approached, she didn’t offer to shake her hand.

“Your Highness,” Alandra murmured politely and respectfully, pausing before the older woman.

She was greeted with a rather stiff nod, giving her the uncomfortable feeling that she wasn’t as welcome as Nicolas and his father would have her believe.

“Please be seated,” the queen told her. “Dinner will be served soon.”

Returning to Nicolas’s side, Alandra allowed him to hold her chair for her before he made his way around the table to the place directly across from her.

A second later, the dining room doors opened again and another couple swept in. It was obvious to Alandra that the gentleman, at least, was related to Nicolas. He had the same build, coloring and facial structure as Nicolas and the king.

The woman had similar physical traits, but Alandra didn’t want to assume anything for fear she was a wife or girlfriend rather than a sister.

“Good evening, everyone,” the man boomed, smiling easily.

“Mother, Father,” the young woman intoned, removing any doubt of her relation to the others. “Nicolas,” she added, laying her hands on his shoulders and leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Menace,” he replied, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin before he shifted his attention back to Alandra. “I’d like you to meet my younger brother, Sebastian, and my sister, Mia, the baby of the family.”

Princess Mia gave a short, harried sigh. “I hate it when you introduce me that way,” she told him.

“I know. That’s why I do it,” he countered. Alandra didn’t miss the affectionate sparkle in his eyes or the amusement that lingered on his sister’s face as she strolled around the table to take the seat to Alandra’s left.

“Our eldest brother, Dominick, is out of the country right now, but hopefully you’ll meet him before you leave.”

Shaking out the napkin on her plate and placing it neatly in her lap, Mia said, “It’s nice to meet you, Alandra. Nicolas mentioned that you would be coming. He says you have brilliant ideas about increasing the amount of funds taken in by nonprofit organizations.”

Alandra’s gaze flashed to Nicolas, flattered by his indirect praise, but he was looking at his sister.

“She’s done terrific work with several charities back in the States,” he announced.

From his seat across the table, Sebastian said, “That’s good. We certainly have our share of worthy causes here on the island that could use a bit of a boost. And it helps that she’s quite the beauty.” Glancing in her direction, Sebastian winked.

For a moment, Alandra was startled by his brash behavior—in front of his family, no less. Then she realized this must simply be his personality. He was the youngest son, the one furthest in line from taking over the throne, and from the looks of it, a bit of a playboy, to boot.

She returned his good-natured smile before noticing the scowl on Nicolas’s face. Her enjoyment fled immediately, replaced by a strange sensation in the pit of her belly. She didn’t know whether to be concerned or intimidated, or even amused.

He had brought her here to be his mistress; she knew that. Under the pretense of working for his family, perhaps, but that didn’t change the fact that he wanted her in his bed.

However, that didn’t explain why he would look so cross at his brother’s harmless comment and teasing.

Unless Nicolas and Sebastian had fought over—or perhaps shared—women before. Was Nicolas concerned that his brother would catch her eye before he’d had a chance to seduce her himself?

Oh, that was an interesting twist. And it would serve him right for spinning such a web of deceit to bring her here in the first place.

Servants arrived then to pour glasses of water and rich red wine. When the salad course was served, conversation turned to family and Glendovian affairs. Alandra ate in relative silence, finding the topics interesting, but having few comments of her own to add.

During dessert, Mia and Sebastian asked her about her own family and life back in Texas. She was only too happy to answer, but avoided any mention of the scandal that had driven her away.

“And what are your plans now that you’re here?” Mia inquired. “Where do you think you’ll begin with the charities?”

Before Alandra could answer, Nicolas interrupted. “That’s something I intend to discuss with her at great length, but she’s just arrived and I haven’t had the chance to fill her in yet on everything she’ll need to know.” Pushing back his chair, he rose to his feet. “In fact, if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to get started on that now.”

He came around to her side of the table, taking her arm and giving her little choice but to leave with him. She said her good-nights and followed him across the room.

“Nicolas,” the queen called out as he reached the door. “I’d like a word with you.”

“Certainly, Mother,” he replied in a respectful tone. “As soon as I see Alandra to her rooms, I’ll return to the library. We can speak there.”

His mother offered an almost imperceptible nod and they left.

With his hand once again at the small of her back, he guided Alandra to the main stairwell, and they started slowly up the steps. She didn’t miss his continued attempts at familiarity. And while his fingertips warmed her through the material of her dress, sending tiny shocks of desire through her system, she had to wonder if it was merely the first phase of his orchestrated attempts at seduction.

Even if it was, it wouldn’t work.

She was stronger than that. Nicolas might be charming and gorgeous, his status as a prince alluring, but he had brought her here under false pretenses, and she was not going to be won over.

“So,” he began, his voice low and persuasive, “have you had a chance to look over the files I left in your room?”

He had, indeed. A pile of colored folders had been left on the desk, each summarizing a different Glendovian charity she assumed she would be working with if she decided to stay.

“I glanced at them,” she said.

“And…”

“You have some interesting organizations set up.”

“They’re not running as well as they should,” he said.

“I noticed.”

“Do you think you can fix them?”

That was the problem—she did. Even looking over the files for a few minutes before she’d started getting ready for dinner, she’d had a dozen ideas for improvements. Not to mention raising awareness and drawing in larger amounts of funding.

They were concepts she was excited about and eager to put into effect. But in order to do that, she would have to remain in Glendovia and fulfill the terms of her contract.

“I have some ideas,” she replied guardedly, as they turned down the hall that led to her suite.

“Excellent.” He waited a beat before continuing. “Does this mean you’ve decided to stay and work here?”

“I’ll stay,” she told him. “I’ll stay through the month, as agreed in the contract, and at the end of the month you’ll give me the bonus you promised.”

“Of course.”

He might have said more at that point, but she cut him off. “And no matter what your reason for bringing me here, no matter what you expected to happen, I will not be sleeping with you. You can cross that little item right off your Christmas wish list.”

At that, she turned the knob, spun on her heel and disappeared into the suite.


Five

The door to the library was open when Nicolas arrived. His mother was sitting in one of the armchairs before the fireplace, sipping a glass of sherry and staring at the flames leaping in the hearth. Closing the door behind him, he moved to the sideboard and poured himself a drink before joining her.

“You wanted to speak with me?” he asked, leaning back.

Typical of his mother, she got right to the point. “What is she doing here, Nicolas?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. “As I told you at dinner, I hired her to help with our charities. She’s very good at what she does. I think she’ll be a boon to the organizations.”

“And that’s the only reason,” his mother said shortly, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. “Nothing else?”

He took a sip of his brandy. “What other reason would there be?”

“Come now, Nicolas. I may be your mother, and therefore not your first choice of confidante about your love life, but I’m well aware of your… leisure pursuits. Are you sure you didn’t bring her here to be your next conquest?”

While his personal relationships were no one’s concern but his own, it was hard—not to mention foolish—to tell the queen to mind her own business. Even if she was his mother.

So he did what he and his siblings had done many times while growing up. He looked her straight in the eye and lied.

“Of course not. I take my responsibilities to our country very seriously. As soon as I saw what Alandra had done with the event I attended in America, I knew she would be a great benefit to our own charitable causes.”

His mother narrowed her gaze momentarily, as though gauging the truthfulness of his statement. “I’m glad to hear that. You understand, I’m sure, that it wouldn’t do for your little associations to become public this close to announcing your engagement. We both know that you haven’t been celibate since you agreed to wed Princess Lisette, but it’s important that you keep up pretenses and do nothing to upset her or her family. This marriage will create a very important bond between her country and ours.”

A brief second passed, and when she spoke again, both her tone and expression were sharper. “We can’t jeopardize that association simply because you can’t keep your hands off some American commoner.”

Letting another swallow of brandy warm its way through his system, Nicolas consciously unclenched his jaw and forced himself to remain respectful.

“I know my duties, Mother. You needn’t worry about me causing any problems with Lisette. Alandra is a lovely woman, but she’s no threat to my engagement, believe me.”

“That’s good to hear. But just in case you change your mind, or Miss Sanchez suddenly begins to look like an amusing diversion while she’s visiting, I have something I think you should see.”

With that, she reached between the side of her chair and the cushion and removed a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Nicolas and then sat back, every inch the queen as she awaited his reaction.

Unfolding the page, he found himself staring at a printout of a newspaper article with Alandra’s picture. On either side of her photo were two others with jagged edges.

The headline accused Alandra of coming between the man and woman depicted, of being the ruin of a happy home and marriage. He scanned the write-up, which made Alandra sound like a selfish, devious trollop with no compunction about carrying on a torrid affair with a married father of two.

“She isn’t one of us, Nicolas,” his mother intoned. “She created a scandal in the States and brought shame upon her own family with her promiscuousness. We don’t need her here, doing the same to us.”

Nicolas tensed in response to both the content of the article and his mother’s high-handed warning, then relaxed. This revelation about Alandra surprised him, but didn’t concern him. And it certainly didn’t change his mind about wanting her in his bed, despite his mother’s cautionary warning.

“I appreciate your trepidation, Mother, but I think you’re making too much of Alandra’s visit. She’s only here for a month, and only to help with the charities. Nothing more.”

The queen arched a brow, but remained silent, making it clear she doubted his claims. But his life was still his own, and until he had actually taken his wedding vows with Princess Lisette, he owed no explanation to anyone.

Refolding the printout and slipping it into the front pocket of his jacket, he pushed himself to his feet and returned his empty glass to the sideboard before crossing to his mother’s chair and leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Mother. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

Alandra was up early the next day, ready to get to work and start putting some of her strategies into action.

She also hoped to see more of the island and get away from Nicolas. He was dangerous to her peace of mind, and the less time they spent together during her stay, the better.

Carrying a briefcase stuffed with papers, she arrived in the dining room. The family was already gathered and eating. A plate was quickly set before her, and Alandra enjoyed her breakfast until the queen inquired about her plans for the day. Alandra still had the distinct feeling Nicolas’s mother didn’t like her.

“After studying the notes Nicolas gave me, I thought the local orphanage would be the best place to start,” she answered. “I’ve got an idea directly connected to the holidays that I think will be quite successful, but since Christmas is right around the corner, it’s important to get things moving as soon as possible.”

If the queen was pleased with Alandra’s response, she didn’t show it. Instead, Nicolas replied. “I’ll have a car brought around to take us to the children’s home,” he said, pushing back his chair and moving toward the dining room’s double doors.

“You’re…coming along?” Alandra asked, her words stumbling over themselves as her heart thudded. She really, really didn’t want to spend the day with him.

He stopped at the door and turned back to face her. “Of course.”

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she tried to ignore the heat suddenly licking its way through her insides. “That isn’t necessary.”

“But it is,” he replied softly. “Glendovia’s national charities are my responsibility. I take that duty seriously and intend to work quite closely with you over the next month. I hope you don’t mind.”

He added the last, she was sure, for the benefit of his family, all of whom were watching and listening attentively. Because it was clear that even if she did mind—which she did—it would make absolutely no difference.

If they had been alone, she might have argued, but she certainly wasn’t going to put up a fuss in front of the royal family.

Forcing the words past her tight throat, she said, “No, I don’t mind at all.”

His lips curved in a smile that told her he knew exactly how much it had pained her to acquiesce. “I’ll meet you at the car, then,” he murmured, before walking out of the room.

Ten minutes later, they were seated in the back of a luxurious black sedan, driving away from the palace. According to the map of the island she’d studied the night before, the orphanage was nearby.

She was happy to simply gaze out the window at the passing scenery and mentally review what she hoped to accomplish at the children’s home. But she should have known Nicolas would never allow her to keep to herself for long.

“So tell me about this holiday idea you have for the orphanage. I’m surprised you’ve begun to devise a plan already, without even having visited.”

Keeping her fingers tightly wrapped around the folders on her lap, she tore her gaze away from the view and turned to face him.

“The files you supplied gave me a general impression of the home, and the type of event I have in mind is something I’ve been a part of before. It seems to go over well and is usually successful in getting the community involved.”

“Sounds promising,” he intoned. “What is it?”

“Basically, we throw a small party where Santa Claus visits the children and hands out gifts, and we invite the press and locals to attend. The goal is to draw attention to the orphanage, reminding people that the children are alone and in need not only over the holidays, but year-round.”

Nicolas nodded, his mouth pursed in thought. “Interesting. And who provides the presents for the children, given that your fund-raising efforts haven’t yet been put into effect?”

She smiled. “You do.”

He raised a brow, and she hurried to elaborate. “Or rather, the royal family does. We’ll be sure to mention that to the press, throwing your family into a very positive light. In fact, if this goes over as well as I think it will, you may want to consider sponsoring the event every year. Back home, we’ve made the visit from Santa an annual event, and it goes over extremely well.”

Inclining his head, he said, “I’m sure that’s something my family would be willing to consider.”

The car eased to a stop in front of the children’s home. A second later the driver came around to open Nicolas’s door. He stepped out, and a bevy of flashbulbs immediately began going off in his face.

Alandra had slid across the seat to exit behind him, but rather than reaching for his hand, which he held out to her, she lifted an arm to shield her eyes from the blinding onslaught.

“Who are all these people?” she called to him.

He leaned in a bit closer to keep from having to raise his voice. “Just members of the press you were speaking of. They tend to follow members of the royal family wherever we go.”

Reaching for her hand again, he said, “Come along. It’s time to go in, and you’ll get used to the attention.”

She wasn’t so sure of that. Where she had been happy a moment ago, and eager to get to work, she now dreaded having to step outside the vehicle into the crowd of photographers circling like vultures. She’d had quite enough of that back in Texas.

She’d come to Glendovia to get away from the media. Now here she was, smack in the middle of the frenzy once again.

Of course, she wasn’t the center of their attention this time, which she considered a blessing. But that didn’t mean she appreciated having her picture taken without her permission here any more than she had back home.

Drawing a breath, she pushed aside the anxieties swirling in her chest as best she could, then placed her hand in Nicolas’s and let him help her from the car.

She stared straight ahead, at the redbrick building they were about to enter. The fingers of her left hand tightened almost desperately on the handle of her briefcase, while she concentrated on keeping those of her right loose and relaxed. She didn’t want to give Nicolas a single sign of just how disturbed she was by the reporters crowding around, still snapping pictures and calling out to the prince.

Nicolas smiled and gave a polite wave, but otherwise ignored them as he led her forward. The sea of photographers parted at his approach, and finally they were inside.

Releasing her pent-up breath, she let go of his hand and stepped away, leaving a safer distance between them. When she lifted her gaze to his, she found him watching her, an amused glint in his eyes.

The move had been an act of self-preservation, and he knew it.

Dammit, he must sense that she was attracted to him, and he probably took it as a sign that he was that much closer to his objective: seducing her into his bed.

“Your Highness,” a voice called, and footsteps clacked as an older woman came forward to greet them.

She offered him a small curtsy and smiled at Alandra. “I’m Mrs. Vincenza, administrator of the children’s home. We’re delighted to have you visit us. I hope you’ll find everything to your liking, and we’ll happily do everything we can to help you with your efforts.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vincenza,” Nicolas replied with a small bow. “This is Alandra Sanchez. She’ll be handling the fund-raising plans.”

“Where are the children?” Alandra asked, scanning the open space, with its center stairwell leading to the upper floor.

“The older ones are in school, of course, and the younger ones are upstairs in the nursery. Would you like to meet them?”

“I’d love to,” she answered.

She followed Mrs. Vincenza up to the second floor, with Nicolas behind them.

They toured the nursery, where Alandra played with the babies and toddlers for a bit, then met a few other members of the staff. From there, Mrs. Vincenza showed them the children’s bedrooms, dining hall, playroom and reception area.

The reception area, Alandra realized as soon as she saw it, would be the perfect place to set up the Santa Claus event. It was large enough for all the children, the media and any number of guests they might invite. There was even a lovely tree already set up and decorated in the far corner.

She jotted down notes as fast as she could, her mind racing ahead to everything that would need to be done. At the same time, she shared her plans with Mrs. Vincenza, whose eyes lit up at the prospect. Behind them, standing tall and straight in the doorway, Nicolas listened silently. Alandra as sumed that meant he approved of the project so far. She was certain he’d let her know if he objected to anything.

An hour later, she’d finalized the initial plans with the administrator and had a list of tasks to deal with herself. After thanking the woman for her time and enthusiasm, she and Nicolas made their way back outside, through the throng of reporters still hovering on the sidewalk, and into the backseat of the waiting car.

The vehicle had barely started rolling away from the curb before Nicolas faced her and asked, “How do you feel it went?”

“Very well,” she answered, flipping through the pages of her spiral pad and reviewing some of the notations she’d made. “Mrs. Vincenza is eager to help us because she knows it will ultimately help her, and even though there’s a lot of work to do, I think we’ve got enough time to set everything up so it goes smoothly.”

A small smile touched his lips. “I have to admit, I was quite impressed with what you said to her. You’re very good at describing your visions so that others can see them clearly.”

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure at his compliment and she nodded a silent thank-you.

“Allow me to buy you lunch at one of our local eateries to show my appreciation for all your hard work. We can discuss what else needs to be done to have everything ready by the week before Christmas.”

Although she was starting to feel hungry and certainly could have used a bite to eat, she didn’t think it was a good idea to spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary. It would be better to go back to the palace and ask for something to be sent to her rooms, where she could hide out and get some work done away from Nicolas.

Without meeting his gaze, she said, “Thank you, but no. I’d prefer to go back and get straight to work.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at her refusal, and she almost expected him to argue. But then he turned to look forward and said, “Very well. You should remember one thing, however.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes returned to hers, bright blue and blazing. “You can’t avoid me forever.”


Six

For the third time in ten minutes, Nicolas checked his watch. He was standing at the bottom of the main stairwell, awaiting Alandra’s arrival, while everyone else was gathered in the dining room, ready for dinner.

But the minutes continued to tick by, and still there was no sign of her.

Spotting a maid leaving the dining room, he motioned her over. “Would you please run up to Miss Sanchez’s room and find out why she’s running late for dinner?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but she called down earlier to make her excuses and ask for a tray to be brought to her room.”

“Is she ill?” he asked, his brows knitting with genuine concern.

“I’m not sure, sir. She didn’t say so.”

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to dismiss the maid.

As soon as the maid disappeared around the corner, he turned and started up the stairs. Minutes later, he was knocking on Alandra’s door.

He heard her call that she was coming, and then the door swung open. She was standing there in a short, turquoise-blue nightgown and a matching robe in some slinky material that made his mouth go instantly dry. Her hair was pulled up and twisted into a loose knot at the crown of her head.

Her lovely chocolate-brown eyes went wide with surprise for a second before narrowing with annoyance.

Noticing that his gaze was inexorably drawn to the shadowed valley between her breasts, she raised a hand to close the edges of her robe.

“May I help you?” she asked in a tone that surely wasn’t often directed toward someone of royal lineage.

Biting back his amusement, he kept a straight face and linked his hands behind him. “I heard you weren’t coming down to dinner and wanted to make sure you were feeling well. Is everything all right?”

Her expression softened at his inquiry. “I’m fine, thank you. I just decided to have my meal in my room so I could continue to work.”

“You’ve been working since we returned from the children’s home,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

“That is why you hired me,” she replied with a tiny smile.

Her grip on the front of her robe loosened and he caught another quick glimpse of cleavage. His body immediately went tight and hot.

Clearing his throat, he struggled to make his brain work past the thought of stripping her bare and having her writhing beneath him. When he couldn’t seem to manage that, he gave a curt nod and headed back the way he’d come.

It took him the full length of both hallways and the staircase to regain his reason and decide on a course of action.

First, he strode into the dining room, where the rest of the family had already been served, and told them he wouldn’t be sharing dinner with them. Then he went to the rear of the palace and entered the kitchens, asking that two trays be made up and taken to Alandra’s suite rather than only one.

He waited while that was done, and then accompanied the servant as the young man delivered the cart. Alandra answered the door when he knocked, a frown marring her brow when she noticed Nicolas trailing behind. To her credit, she held her tongue as the cart was wheeled into the center of the sitting room.

Glancing toward Nicolas, the servant waited to be told where they wished their meals to be served.

“That’s fine, Franc. I’ll take it from here. Thank you.”

The young man inclined his head and quickly made his way from the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Nicolas and Alandra alone.

Her gaze skated from the cart, with its silver-domed platters and bottle of wine, to him. “You’re not planning on eating with me?” she asked, not bothering with even a modicum of civility as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and tapped the red-tipped toes of one bare foot impatiently.

“We have a lot to do, as you’ve said, and I agree that taking dinner in your rooms is a good way to make rapid progress. We’ll eat on the balcony,” he added, pulling the cart out onto the terrace. “You’ll like it out there. Bring some of your files, if you like, and we can discuss them while we eat.”

She didn’t say anything, but he wouldn’t have stopped if she had. Giving her the chance to respond was only inviting a refusal, and he had no intention of being put off.

She followed him to the French doors, still without uttering a word, but stopped before actually stepping onto the balcony.

It was still light outside, edging into dusk, and the bright shades of sunset could be seen on the far horizon. The temperature, normally quite comfortable at this time of year, was even warmer than usual, giving him no qualms about inviting her out in little more than a thin slip of satiny material.

And if she got cold…well, he could think of several ways to heat things up quickly enough.

He moved to the round, glass-topped table outside, and pretended not to be watching her as he transferred their dinner from the cart. In reality, however, he kept track of her in his peripheral view. He saw her fingers twisting nervously on the frame of the open double doors, and her bare toes curling on the threshold rather than taking the step that would bring her out onto the balcony.

“Maybe I should change,” she said in a soft voice.

Though he was careful not to let it show, he felt a flash of triumph. She had apparently accepted that arguing or asking him to leave was futile. He was here for dinner, and he meant to stay.

Raising his head, he once again looked directly at her. He wanted her sitting across from him just like that, with her legs bare and the turquoise fabric bringing out the sparkle in her dark eyes.

“What you’re wearing is fine,” he replied. “This is a casual meal, and we’ll be talking about the charities most of the time. In fact, I’ll join you in getting more comfortable.”

Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he hung it neatly over the back of his chair, removed his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “How’s that?” he asked, giving her a moment to study his appearance. “I can remove more of my clothing if you like, but I have a feeling you would consider that a bit too casual. Am I right?”

He cocked a brow, silently challenging her to deny it. If he had his way, they would both be naked before the night was over.

For a second, she returned his look with a steady, rebellious one of her own, then spun around and disappeared into the bedroom.

At first, he thought she’d gone to cover herself in battle armor. But she reappeared a moment later, still wearing the same nightgown and robe, and not a stitch more. She was also carrying a legal pad and small stack of folders.

She took a seat and pulled her chair closer to the table, acting as though she was sitting down to a business lunch in a full business suit. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain now that he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Following her lead, he lifted the silver covers from both plates and set them aside, then took his own seat across from her. He uncorked the bottle of wine, from one of Glendovia’s own vineyards, and poured a healthy portion for each of them.

Nicolas made small talk while they ate. And though Alandra’s side of the conversation was stilted at first, eventually she relaxed and spoke to him as easily as she would anyone else.

They’d just begun discussing the plans for the children’s home when a knock sounded at the sitting room door.

“That will be dessert,” Nicolas announced. Rising to his feet, he slung his jacket over his arm. “Let’s move things into the other room, shall we?”

He strolled in that direction, leaving her to follow with her stack of files.

Before the waiting servant had a chance to knock a second time, Nicolas pulled the door open, gestured for him to enter and instructed him to serve the coffee and dessert at the low, square table in front of the fireplace.

While that was being taken care of, Nicolas lowered the lights, then proceeded to build a small fire in the hearth.

Alandra watched from the bedroom doorway, chagrined to find herself admiring the broad expanse of the prince’s back. The narrow span of his waist. The ripple of muscles beneath his crisp white shirt and dark trousers as he moved.

She swallowed hard, feeling a flush of heat flow over her chest, up her neck and into her cheeks.

Noticing Nicolas’s considerable physical attributes was the last thing she should be doing. Finding him attractive at all, in any way, would be the kiss of death. A risk she could not afford.

And yet she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him.

“Isn’t it a little warm for a fire?” she asked as the servant finished his task and slipped silently from the room.

“I thought you might be chilly,” the prince replied, turning from the flickering flames and glancing in her direction.

His attention lingered on her bare legs, she noticed, and it took all her willpower not to shift uncomfortably or attempt to cover herself. The only thing that kept her from doing either was the knowledge that he’d noticed the tiny goose bumps beginning to break out on her arms and legs earlier. She was unaccountably touched by his consideration, which was not what she wanted to be feeling.

“We won’t get too close,” he said, dragging the table back from the hearth a few more inches before taking two cushions from the sofa. “Come, have a seat.”

He lowered himself onto one of the cushions on the floor and sat cross-legged, leaving the other for her. Instead of sitting across from each other, they would now be much closer, with only one small corner of a rather small table between them.

It wasn’t the typical setup for a business meeting. But then, her attire wasn’t exactly typical, either. None of this was.

Striding across the room in her bare feet, she set her files aside and curled her legs beneath her as she sat down.

Nicolas poured coffee from a brightly polished silver carafe while Alandra studied the dessert. A fluffy, golden pastry was sliced into layers and filled with large, juicy strawberries and a decadent amount of rich cream. Her mouth watered just looking at it.

Because this situation could easily begin to take on a romantic feel, Alandra immediately started back on the topic of Christmas at the orphanage, and didn’t stop until they’d made it through the pastries and a cup of coffee each. To his credit, Nicolas stuck with the conversation, never trying to change the subject or insert a level of intimacy that didn’t belong.

His enthusiasm and participation delighted her. She’d expected him to put in only a minimum amount of effort, to convince her he’d brought her to his country for legitimate reasons rather than simply to become the latest in what she was sure was a string of lovers.

But he was taking their conversations and the business of organizing these fund-raisers seriously. Taking her seriously.

It was a welcome change after being made the butt of any number of jokes and cruel jibes back home once the rumors had spread that she’d been sleeping with a married man.

Despite the cup of coffee she’d just consumed, Alandra found herself blinking tired eyes and covering her mouth to stifle a yawn. And maybe she was off her game, maybe her defenses were down, because it seemed sensible, almost natural, to join Nicolas when he moved closer to the fire.

She reclined beside him, letting the flickering flames and the opulence of her surroundings lull her. Keeping company with a gorgeous prince didn’t hurt, either, even if she had to steel herself against his charms, his looks, the spicy scent of his cologne.

And he was about as handsome as a man could be. If he weren’t already a prince, she would think he should be. A prince or perhaps a movie star.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly from only inches away.

He had a nice voice, too. Low and slightly husky, it rumbled up from his chest and straight down her spine, causing her bare toes to curl.

If he wasn’t a royal, constantly being followed by paparazzi, and if she hadn’t recently been slandered and torn apart by vicious rumor and innuendo, she might just be willing to throw caution to the wind and sleep with him, after all. Not become his mistress—that was a bit beyond even her—but spend one passionate, sure-to-be-glorious evening making love with a man who had the power to turn her knees to jelly.

Thank goodness he didn’t know that. Thank goodness he couldn’t tell exactly what she was thinking. Otherwise all her good intentions, her insistence that her presence here was purely business, with no possibility of pleasure being thrown into the mix, would drift away like a wisp of fog on the ocean breeze.

Thank goodness.

“Only that this is nice,” she replied. “Relaxing. I should still be working, but I think I’m too tired.”

He turned, and she found her own shimmery image reflected in his pupils.

“Would you like to go to bed?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Yes, very much,” before her hazy brain identified the danger his question posed.

“Clever,” she said with a chuckle, feeling just tranquil enough to find his attempt to trap her amusing. “But while I would like to go to bed… eventually…I won’t be doing it with you.”

“What a shame. Although there’s always tomorrow.”

There it was again, that calm, cajoling tone. The voice that thickened her blood and sent warm, tingling sensations to areas she’d rather not have tingling in his presence.

“I didn’t come here for that,” she replied quietly.

He was only an inch away now, his heated breath dancing over her cheeks and eyelashes. His mouth looked incredibly inviting, sexy and about seven kinds of sinful.

Surely one little kiss wouldn’t hurt anything. One tiny peck to satisfy an overwhelming curiosity.

It wasn’t smart. Was, in fact, ludicrous.

Before she had a chance to decide if she could afford a momentary lapse of sanity, Nicolas made the decision for her.


Seven

Oh, my.

He tasted of wine and the strawberries and cream that had been part of their dessert, with a hint of the coffee he’d sipped afterward. Sweet and tart and smoky all at the same time.

It was a heady mixture, but nothing compared to the feel of his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting, stroking, claiming.

His hands gripped her shoulder and the side of her face, gently pulling her up. She wasn’t sure how it happened, had no conscious memory of moving, but suddenly she was on her knees, pressed chest to chest with Nicolas and kissing him back with equal vigor.

While his hands kneaded and caressed her upper arms, hers clutched at his shirt, desperately holding on and pulling him closer. Her breasts were squashed between them, but she could still feel her nipples beading. Heat gathered and pooled low in her belly, and her heartbeat was a thunderbolt blasting in her ears.

She’d been wrong about keeping her distance, wrong about trying to convince herself she wasn’t interested in this man. He was hard and strong and self-assured, and brought to life emotions she’d never felt before, at least not to this degree.

Her fingers trailed upward to tangle in the short strands of his silky hair. The two of them were already mouth to mouth, body to body, as close as they could be while still clothed, but that didn’t keep her from exerting a small amount of pressure at the back of his skull and—if it was possible—taking the kiss even deeper.

With a groan, Nicolas moved his hands to skim the undersides of her breasts. He cupped them in his palms, measuring their fullness and weight before letting his thumbs slide up and over the tight peaks of her nipples.

The caress, made even more erotic by the thin layer of cool, slick material between her flesh and his fingers, gave her shivers.

As she wriggled in his grasp, her knee bumped into the coffee cup she’d set aside earlier. The rattle of the porcelain on the saucer startled her out of the haze of passion and arousal she’d been lost in.

She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss even though her body cried out for more. Her lungs heaved, straining for breath. Her arms and legs quivered, overcome with a lassitude she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

Good Lord, what had she almost done? How could she have gotten so wrapped up, so swept away by a single kiss?

His hands remained at her breasts, his fingers lightly brushing the rigid peaks. His eyes blazed a deep, dark sapphire in the firelight, no less heated than a moment ago.

Did he not realize she’d pulled away, or was he as blinded by desire as she’d been?

Regardless, she had to stop this, had to make it clear to him that what had just taken place between them was a mistake. A mistake of monumental proportions that could not, would not happen again.

“Stop,” she gasped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a ragged voice. Though he dropped his arms to his sides, he clenched his hands, betraying the tension vibrating through him.

“This is not going to happen,” she said, though her tone was less firm than she’d have liked. Still on her knees, she inched away, afraid that he might reach for her again and she wouldn’t have the conviction to fend him off.

One dark eyebrow hitched upward. “I thought we were off to a fairly adequate start,” he replied.

Without looking at Nicolas, she rose to her feet. “I told you before that I didn’t come to Glendovia to become your latest conquest. I’m here strictly for business purposes. That kiss was a mistake. It never should have happened, and it won’t happen again. Things only got as far as they did because I’m tired and let my guard down.”

But Nicolas wasn’t ready to walk away, not quite yet.

He also got to his feet, then touched her elbow, stroking the satin fabric of her sleeve. “I could stay,” he whispered smoothly, seductively. “Make sure the rest of your evening is both restful and enjoyable. Infinitely enjoyable.”

The spark in her eyes let him know he’d overstepped his bounds. She shrugged out of his hold and moved passed him. Wrenching open the door, she stood back, body rigid, and glared.

“Good night, Your Highness,” she said, her tone only a shade shy of disrespectful.

If he weren’t such a patient man, intent on his goal, he might have taken exception.

But he was a patient man, and he knew that pushing Alandra was not the way to win her over, not the way to lure her into his bed. Better to take things slowly, to woo and seduce her properly.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said politely, moving to stand before her, giving no indication that her attitude or demands disturbed him in the least.

Though she remained stiff, he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Thank you for being such a lovely dinner companion, and for all of your hard work on behalf of the children’s home. I knew bringing you here was the right thing to do.”

With a swift grin, he left the room and strode casually down the hall. A few seconds later, he heard her door close with a slam, and his smile widened.

Alandra Sanchez was a fiery, passionate woman with a temper to match. She thought she was brushing him off, holding him at bay, but her reluctance merely intrigued him all the more.

For the next two weeks, Alandra did her best to avoid Nicolas whenever she could, and treat him with cool professionalism whenever she couldn’t.

Nicolas, meanwhile, did his best to get her alone as often as possible, to touch her hand, her arm, her cheek on a regular basis, and to romance her into letting down her guard and inviting him into her bed.

So far, she’d remained firm in her commitment not to be seduced. But she had to admit, at least to herself, that it had been no simple feat.

Nicolas was nearly irresistible. He was attractive and charming, and if he hadn’t approached her to sleep with him before getting to know her—which she found gallingly arrogant—she very well might have fallen into bed with him by now.

Sad but true, and rather ironic. If he’d gone about courting her in a more traditional manner, he’d have likely gotten lucky.

Alandra might be considered beautiful by many—a fact of life that was sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse for her—but she was anything but compliant.

And then there was the continued guilt and humiliation over the scandal that still clung to her name back in Texas.

She’d phoned home numerous times since arriving in Glendovia, and each time she’d asked her sister about the scandal she’d been running away from. Elena had admitted that people were still talking, but the reporters had finally stopped camping out at the house.

But even though the attention had died down, Alandra knew she’d been right to leave town when she had. She was also even more determined never to leave herself open to disgrace again.

She reminded herself of this, firmly and repeatedly, as she made her way down to the foyer.

In the time she’d been a guest of the royal family, the palace’s decor had gone from tidily opulent to brimming with holiday cheer.

The banister had been strung with long, twisting garlands of holly and ivy. Giant wreaths hung on both the outside and inside of all the main doors. And in the center of the foyer was a towering evergreen tree, covered with gold ornaments. A golden angel perched gloriously at the very top.

The holiday decorations were helping Alandra feel more at home. She missed her family terribly, and it broke her heart to think that she wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them. But she found it soothing to be surrounded by all this cheer.

She was smiling when she reached the front door, where Nicolas was waiting. Tonight was the Evening with Santa event at the children’s home, and he had insisted on accompanying her, despite the fact that she had to be there early. The rest of the royal family would arrive later.

Even Nicolas’s mother, Queen Eleanor, had reluctantly approved of Alandra’s efforts to aid the local orphanage. She hadn’t come right out and complimented her on all of her hard work, or changed her attitude, but the few remarks she’d made about tonight’s event had been mainly positive.

Alandra didn’t let it go to her head. She knew the queen still disapproved of her.

As soon as she drew close, Nicolas took her elbow, offering a small smile. He was dressed in his princely finery, complete with a red sash running from shoulder to hip, and a number of important-looking medals pinned to his chest.

Alandra’s dress was a sumptuous red velvet gown that hugged her curves and left her shoulders and arms bare. She wore classic, understated diamonds at her ears and throat.

“Shall we go?” Nicolas asked, and escorted her out of the palace into the slightly chilly evening air. It wasn’t yet dark, but the sun was setting and dusk was well under way.

She had purposely scheduled tonight’s affair so that it could be both a fun party for the children and an opportunity for the adult guests to mingle. Especially since she had invited some very wealthy, influential individuals, whom she hoped would make generous donations.

When Alandra and Nicolas arrived, a crowd of photographers was already gathered outside the orphanage, snapping pictures. Inside, the home was decorated festively. There was a tree in the main entranceway, covered with ornaments handmade by the children. Holiday music filled the air.

After Alandra settled a few last-minute issues, she started mingling with the arriving guests.

The appearance of the rest of the royal family caused quite a stir. Voices hushed, heads turned and people stood frozen as they watched the king and queen.

Leaving Nicolas with his family, Alandra made her way to the other rooms. She began wandering around, double-checking that everything was running properly.

All in all, it looked as though the evening was progressing perfectly. She released a sigh, praying no accidents or crises cropped up to mar an otherwise successful occasion.

Turning back to survey the reception area, she immediately spotted Nicolas striding toward her. Tall and imposing, he seemed to tower over the crowd.

The air caught in her chest. She would have liked to blame her sudden inability to breathe on the tightness of her form-fitting dress, but knew it was all due to Nicolas.

Nicolas, who could stop her heart with a glance.

Nicolas, who made her palms damp and her stomach quiver.

Nicolas, who made her want to rethink her decision not to get any closer to him than necessary during her stay.

Be strong, she told herself, swallowing hard and making a concerted effort to keep her knees from quaking as he came closer.

When he reached her, he gave a small bow and took her hand, his eyes holding hers the entire time.

“Dance with me,” he murmured softly.

His tone and princely manner made it more of a command than a request, but she did her best to argue. “I don’t think Christmas music is exactly conducive to dancing,” she said, glancing about the room. Although there were several couples taking the floor.

“Of course it is.”

He tipped his head, as though paying extra attention to the slow strains of a holiday classic. Tightening his grasp, he tugged her behind him as he headed to the clear space at the center.

“Besides, it’s my royal duty to set a good example for others, and we want everyone to enjoy themselves, don’t we? Isn’t that your goal, so that guests will feel more generous when it comes time to start writing checks?”

She could tell from his expression that he was taking pleasure in teasing her, tossing her own ambition back at her in an attempt to get what he wanted. His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to keep his amusement in check.

She might have continued protesting, but it was too late. They had reached a small empty stretch of the hardwood floor, and Nicolas had his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

He splayed his fingers at the small of her back, holding her in place and guiding her as they swayed in small circles. And just as he’d predicted, others began to follow their lead and joined them, dancing to the holiday carols being piped through the building.

This hadn’t been part of her plans for the evening, but it did seem to be having a positive effect. Alandra hoped Nicolas didn’t notice, or she might have to swallow her pride and tell him he’d been right.

The song came to an end and they stopped moving, but instead of releasing her, he continued to hold her, staring down into her eyes until her mouth went dry and butterflies decided to take up tap dancing in her belly. Her chest was too tight to draw a full breath, which made her head begin to spin.

She thought, for a brief moment, that he was going to kiss her. Right there, in the middle of a roomful of people.

And she was chagrined to realize that her mouth had opened slightly, that she was both anticipating the kiss and looking forward to it. Yearning for it, even.

With his gaze still locked on hers, he leaned in another inch, until she could feel his warm breath dancing across her skin.

“I can’t kiss you here and now, the way I’d like, but I promise to rectify that before the night is through.” His voice was low and mesmerizing, washing over her.

Dropping his hand from her waist, he smiled, gave a small bow and then turned and walked away, as though he hadn’t just set every nerve ending in her body on high alert.

She watched him go, trying to regain control of her senses. And control of her limbs, which seemed incapable of movement, even as she struggled to get her brain to send the correct signals.

It wasn’t until she noticed people beginning to stare that she shook off whatever spell had overtaken her, and was able to take step after measured step to the refreshment table. She poured herself a glass of punch and drank it down in nearly a single gulp.

This was bad, so very bad. He was wearing her down, eroding the last of her defenses.

She was very much afraid that she wouldn’t be able to evade him for much longer.


Eight

It was late by the time the evening wound to a close, but as Alandra watched the guests filing out, she was delighted to see that the majority of them had smiles on their faces. Better yet, Mrs. Vincenza had happily reported that she’d received several generous contributions throughout the night, with promises of more to come.

Watching Santa Claus hand out presents to the children had obviously turned a number of hearts—exactly what Alandra had been hoping for. She’d seen more than a few eyes turn misty during the gift-giving ceremony, and many follow the children out of the room and up the stairs at bedtime.

While it hadn’t been her main goal, Alandra hoped that tonight’s event would result in some much-needed adoptions, as well as added donations.

Stifling a yawn behind her small clutch purse, she watched the door close behind the last guest a moment before she felt Nicolas come to stand beside her.

Although she wasn’t surprised that she could sense his presence even before she saw him, it did disturb her. She didn’t want to sense him. Didn’t want to believe that they might be growing that close in such a short time, especially when she’d spent most of the last three weeks avoiding him.

Not that she’d been terribly successful. Nicolas, she was learning, had a way of being everywhere she was, whether she wanted him there or not.

She had to admit, though, that he’d been a definite asset this evening. Not only had he gotten everyone in the room to relax enough to dance to Christmas music, but he’d spent the rest of the night circulating through the crowd to shake hands, kiss cheeks and talk up the orphanage as an extremely worthy charity—or write-off, depending on who he was conversing with.

And she admired him for it. For caring about the children’s home and about what he could do to make the fund-raiser a success.

Glendovia was his country, and she had been hired to do a job for it. But he seemed to know that she took her work of organizing charitable events and raising funds for worthy causes very, very seriously. Seemed to know…and in his own way, care.

That touched Alandra more than a dozen roses, a hundred glasses of champagne or a thousand romantic dates ever could have.

He might have taken a wrong first step with her by inviting her into his bed before even getting to know her, but he had taken a few right steps since. Redeeming right steps.

When he took her elbow now, she felt a familiar tingle in every millimeter of skin his fingers came in contact with.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded and let Nicolas adjust her wrap around her shoulders before guiding her outside and into the waiting limousine.

Despite the late hour, there were still plenty of paparazzi gathered to snap more pictures upon the royal family’s departure. The camera flashes burned her eyes and blinded her vision. She was only too happy to have the car door slam behind her, blocking out the pesky photographers.

When they arrived home, the family said their good-nights before heading for their respective bedchambers. Alandra wished them all a good night, as well, before turning toward her own rooms.

“I’ll walk with you,” Nicolas said, catching up with her and once again slipping her arm through his.

She started to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but thought better of it with his parents and siblings still within earshot. Instead, she inclined her head, tightened her hold on his arm and murmured, “Thank you.”

They walked to her suite without speaking, and she was surprised to find it a comfortable silence. Perhaps because it had been such a long and busy day, and she was too tired to worry about what she should be saying or doing. She couldn’t find it in her to be concerned about what Nicolas might say or do, either.

When they arrived, he opened the door, then stood back for her to enter. Crossing the dark sitting room, she turned on a small table lamp, which bathed the space in a yellow-gold light.

Alandra straightened and turned, and nearly bumped into Nicolas, who had followed her silently and was standing mere inches away. For a moment, her mind went blank. Her breath hitched and her heart leaped at finding him so near.

She swallowed nervously and opened her mouth to speak, though she didn’t have a clue what she planned to say.

Not that it mattered. Before she could utter a sound or get her brain to function properly, Nicolas had lifted a hand to the back of her neck and threaded his fingers into the loose hair at her nape. He tugged her forward, and she went easily, willingly, like a puppet on a string.

Their eyes met, and in that brief second, she saw passion and fire and desire. Those same emotions caused her stomach to tumble to her toes, and made her feel suddenly light-headed.

Then he bent and lowered his mouth to hers.

The minute their lips met the earth seemed to rock on its axis. Alandra had never felt such heat, such electricity, such an amazing and overwhelming need.

Nicolas’s fingers at her nape tightened, while his other hand grasped her hip. Her own hands were on his shoulders, gripping and clawing. She couldn’t seem to get close enough.

His scent filled her nostrils, spicy and masculine. As his tongue swept through her mouth, he tasted the same.

She kissed him back with equal fervor, delighting in the way contact with him flooded her senses.

Just when she thought she might expire from pleasure, Nicolas broke the kiss. “Say no,” he whispered raggedly against her lips. “Tell me to go. Tell me you don’t want this.”

He kissed her again, hard and swiftly. “Go ahead, Alandra,” he taunted softly, “tell me.”

She knew what he was doing. He was challenging her to stick to her declaration that she wouldn’t sleep with him during her visit. That she wouldn’t allow herself to be seduced.

But, God help her, she couldn’t. She wanted him too much to deny it any longer.

To deny him.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her mouth to his. The same smoldering heat washed over her again and, with a sigh, she whispered, “Don’t stop. Don’t go. I do want this.”

She expected him to smile—a cocky, self-important response to show her he’d known all along he would win their little cat-and-mouse game.

But he didn’t smile. Instead, his eyes flashed with fire, a second before narrowing dangerously.

Bending slightly, he scooped her up, ball gown, high heels and all. His determined strides carried them to her bedroom, where he kicked the door closed and crossed to the wide, four-poster bed.

The room was dark, with only a hint of moonlight shining through the diaphanous curtains on the French doors. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but as Nicolas deposited her on the mattress, then stood back to unbutton his jacket, she decided it didn’t matter. She could see him just well enough, and in a few minutes she would be touching him everywhere. Feeling him everywhere.

He stripped off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, then loosened the first few buttons of his shirt, keeping his gaze locked on her the entire time.

Not wanting to be a mere bystander, Alandra rose to her knees and pulled off her strappy heels, tossing them aside. She reached behind her for the zipper of her dress.

“No.”

Nicolas’s low, stern voice stopped her. He took two steps forward to the edge of the bed and ran his hands seductively down her bare arms.

“Let me.”

Her stomach muscles clenched as his fingers ran over her abdomen and around her sides, to her lower back. Slowly, he slid his palms up the line of her spine.

His touch burned through the velvet of her gown as his hands trailed upward, and then drew the zipper down. The quiet rasp of the tiny metal teeth parting accompanied their harsh breathing.

When the zipper was lowered, her dress fell open, helped along by Nicolas’s large, strong hands. She shrugged and shifted slightly; he pulled it away and dropped it unceremoniously at his feet.

Alandra knelt at the edge of the king-size mattress in her cherry-red bra and panties, and a pair of sheer, thigh-high stockings. Her heart was racing out of control, her nerves skittering like a million angry ants. Licking her dry lips, she remained perfectly still, watching Nicolas and waiting.

He stood equally still, his blue eyes riveted on her face. And then he reached for his shirt, undoing the buttons and pulling the tail from his slacks.

His movements weren’t hurried, but they weren’t patient, either. He made short work of removing the garment, letting it flutter to the floor while he reached for the front of his pants. There was no belt to slow him down, and with a flick of his wrist, he released both the catch and zipper.

Half-naked, he was impressive enough. But fully naked, he was the stuff of dreams and naughty female fantasies. His arms and chest were beautifully sculpted. A tight, flat abdomen flowed to narrow hips and long legs corded with muscle.

Alandra’s pulse skittered and her mouth went dry as she focused her gaze to the area between his thighs. He was impressive there, too.

She didn’t know what to say or how to act, so merely sat where she was and waited for him to make the first move.

It didn’t take long. With a single stride, he was with her, cradling her in his arms, while his mouth devoured hers.

Their lips meshed. Their tongues tangled. And everywhere their skin touched, she sizzled.

Alandra curled her fingers into his shoulders, her nails gently scraping. Behind her, she felt him fiddling with the clasp of her bra, and then it came free. She released him long enough to allow him to remove the garment.

Rather than wrapping his arms around her again, Nicolas reached for her breasts, cupping them in his palms, toying with the tight, beaded nipples. All without breaking their kiss.





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