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Someone. When his vision cleared, the tangle of supple-bodied woman and blond hair underneath him captured his complete attention.
He gazed down into the bluest set of eyes he’d seen in a while. Something shifted inside as the woman blinked back, her beautiful heart-shaped face reflecting not an iota of remorse over their risqué position. Her body had somehow slid into the grooves of his effortlessly and the slightest incline of his head would fuse his lips to hers.
She’d fully gobsmacked him.
Their breath intermingled. She seemed in no hurry to unstick her skin from his and in about two and a half seconds, his own body would start getting into the moment in a huge and inappropriate way.
Sexy strangers signaled big-time problems and he had enough of those.
Reluctantly, he rolled off her and helped her sit up. “Sorry about that. You okay?”
“Totally.” Her husky voice skittered across his skin and he was hooked on the sound of it instantly. American. His favorite. “My fault. I was focused on this thing instead of where I was going.”
She kicked at a Frisbee he hadn’t noticed lying in the sand two feet away. But who’d pay attention to a piece of plastic when a fit blonde in a tiny bikini landed in your lap? Not him.
“I like a girl who goes for the memorable introduction.”
It was certainly a new one. And he’d experienced his share of inventive ploys for getting his attention. Knickers with cell phone numbers scrawled in marker across the crotch, which he discovered had been shoved into his pocket. Room keys slipped into drinks sent over by a knot of football groupies at a corner table. Once, he’d gone back to his hotel room after a press junket to find two naked women spread out across his bed. How they’d gotten in, he still didn’t know.
The logistics question had sort of slipped his mind after ten minutes in their company.
“Oh, I wasn’t angling for an introduction.” She actually blushed a bit, which was oddly endearing. “I really didn’t see you there. You kind of blend into the sand.”
“Is that a crack about my British complexion?” he teased. “You’re pretty pale yourself, darling.”
She laughed and rearranged her hair, pulling it behind her back so it didn’t conceal her cleavage. A move he thoroughly appreciated. This gorgeous klutz might be the best thing that had happened to him all week. Longer than that. The best thing since arriving in Alma for sure.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be stuck here cooling his heels until a football club whose jersey he could stomach wearing knocked on his door.
“No, not at all. I wouldn’t be so rude as to point out your flaws on our first meeting.” She leaned forward, her vibe full of come-hither as she teased him back.
Intrigued, he angled his head toward her. “But on our second date, all bets are off?”
Glancing down coquettishly, she let loose a small smile. “I’m more of a third-date kind of girl.”
His gut contracted as the full force of that promise hit him crossways. She was a unique breed of woman, the most fascinating one he’d met thus far on this stupid rock he was being forced to call home for the time being. The memory of her hot flesh against his was still fresh—it was enough to drive him mad. And he suspected she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
“I have a feeling you’d be worth the wait.”
She picked that moment to stand and for some reason, the new angle cast her in a different light. It tickled his mind and he recognized her all at once. Pictures of the new princess had graced every news channel for the past couple of weeks, but she’d been clothed. Regardless, he should have recognized her sooner and maybe not disgraced himself by flirting with a woman who probably really had no clue she’d stumbled over a former football player for Real Madrid.
A princess—especially one as fit as Bella Montoro—wasn’t running around the beach at Playa Del Onda looking to meet guys, whether they were semifamous or not. Which was a dirty shame.
He shoved his hat back onto his head and repositioned his sunglasses, both of which had flown off during the sand tango.
Ms. Montoro... Princess Bella... Your Royal Highness... What did you even call her when her brother hadn’t been crowned yet? Whatever the form of address, she was way out of his league.
But that didn’t mean she thought so. She hadn’t bothered to hide the frank attraction in her gaze when she’d been in his arms earlier. If there was anything he knew, it was women, and she might be royalty but that didn’t necessarily make her off-limits.
He quickly scrambled to his feet in case there was some protocol for standing when princesses stood...even if she was wearing a postage stamp–sized white bikini that somehow covered everything while leaving nothing to the imagination.
No point in beating around the bush. “Am I permitted to call you Bella or is there some other title you’d prefer?”
“What, like Princess?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not really used to all that yet. And besides, I think we’re a little past that stage, don’t you?”
The feel of her soft curves flush against his body flooded his mind and his board shorts probably wouldn’t conceal his excitement much longer if he didn’t cool his jets. “Yeah. Formality isn’t my specialty anyway. Bella it is.”
Strangely, calling her Bella ratcheted up the intimacy quotient by a thousand. He liked it. And he wanted to say it a bunch more times while she lay stretched out under him again. Without the bikini.
She smiled and glanced down, as if the heat roiling between them was affecting her, too, and she didn’t know quite what to do with it. “This is all so awkward. I wasn’t sure you knew who I was.”
Shrugging, he stuck his hands behind his back because he had no clue what to do with them. It was the first time he’d been unsure around a woman since the age of fourteen. “I recognized you from your pictures.”
She nodded and waved off her friend who’d most likely come to investigate the disappearance of her Frisbee partner. “Me, too. I wasn’t expecting to run into you on the beach or I would have dressed for the occasion.”
Ah, so she did know who he was—and dare he hope there was a hint of approval there? She’d gotten rid of the friend, a clear sign she planned to stick around for a while at least. Maybe he wasn’t so far out of her league after all. “I’m a fan of your wardrobe choice.”
Laughing, she glanced down. “I guess it is appropriate for the beach, isn’t it? It’s just not how I thought meeting you would go. The picture my father sent painted you as someone very serious.”
“Um...you don’t say?” He’d just completely lost the thread of the conversation. Why would her father be sending her pictures, unless... Of course. Had to make sure the precious princess didn’t taint herself with the common riffraff. Stay away from that Rowling boy. He’s a boatload of trouble.
His temper kicked up, but he smoothed it over with a wink and a wicked smile. “I’m every bit as bad as your father warned you. Probably worse. If your goal is to seriously irritate him, I’m on board with that.”
He had no problem being her Rebel Against Daddy go-to guy, though he’d probably encourage her to be really bad and enjoy it far too much. Instantly, a few choice scenarios that would get them both into a lot of trouble filled his mind.
Her eyes widened. “He, uh, didn’t warn me about you... Actually, I’m pretty sure he’d be happy if we went out. Isn’t that the whole point of this? So we can see if we’re suited?”
This conversation was going in circles. Her father wanted them to date? “He’s a football fan, then?”
She shook her head, confusion clouding her gaze. “I don’t think so. Does that matter to you, Will?”
“Will?” He groaned. This was so much worse than he’d anticipated. “You think I’m Will?”
More importantly, her father had sent her a picture of Will for some yet-to-be-determined reason, but it wasn’t so she could flirt with Will’s twin brother on the beach. And this little case of mistaken identity was about to come to an abrupt halt.
Two (#ulink_40a786ee-b43d-5797-9017-f2e5e6aa97d8)
Bella laced her fingers together as she got the impression all at once that she wasn’t talking to the man she thought she was. “Aren’t you Will Rowling?”
He had to be. She’d studied his picture enough on the plane and then again last night while she tried to go to sleep but couldn’t, because she’d been wondering what in the world her father was thinking with this arranged marriage nonsense. And then she’d come to the beach with the daughter of one of the servants who was close to her age, only to trip over said man her father had selected.
Except he was staring at her strangely and the niggle of doubt wormed its way to the surface again. How could she have made such a mistake?
“Not Will. Not even close,” he confirmed.
He grinned, and she let herself revel in his gorgeous aqua-colored eyes for a moment because she didn’t have to fight an attraction to him if he wasn’t the man her father picked out for her.
The sun shone a little brighter and the sea sparkled a bit bluer. Digging her toes into the warm sand that suddenly felt heavenly against her bare feet, she breathed a sigh of relief and grinned back.
This was turning out better than she’d hoped. Geez, she’d been one heartbeat away from believing in love at first sight and trying for all she was worth to shut it down. Because she’d thought he was Will Rowling. Imagine that. Her father would be insufferable about it and demand they get married right away if she’d become smitten so fast. It would have been a disaster.
But if this extremely sexy man wasn’t Will—perfect. She slid her gaze down his well-cut body, which a T-shirt and long shorts couldn’t hide. Of course she’d felt every single one of his valleys and hard peaks. Intimately.
No. This was not perfect. She was supposed to be meeting Will and seeing if they got along, not flirting with some look-alike stranger who made her itch to accept the wicked invitation in his gaze, which promised if he got her naked, he’d rock her world.
With no small amount of regret, she reeled back her less-than-innocent interest.
“Well, sorry about that, then,” she said and held out her hand. Might as well start over since this whole thing had blown up in her face. “Bella Montoro. I guess you already knew that, but I’m at a disadvantage.”
His rich laugh hit her a moment before he clasped her hand in his and the combination heated her more than the bright sun or her embarrassment. “I’m the one at a disadvantage, if you were hoping I was Will. I’m James. The other Rowling. Will is my brother.”
“Brother? Oh,” she drawled as it hit her. “You and Will are twins.”
“Guilty.” His eyes twinkled, sucking her under his spell for a moment.
“Then I’m doubly sorry.” Mortified, she racked her brain, but if her father had told her Will had a twin brother, she surely would have remembered that. “I’ve made a complete mess out of this, haven’t I?”
“Not at all. People confuse us all the time. It’s fine, really.”
It was not fine. It was so the opposite of fine, she couldn’t even wrap her head around how not fine it was. Because she’d just realized this sensually intriguing man she’d accidentally tripped over was the brother of the intended target of her father’s archaic arranged marriage plan.
If that didn’t complicate her life a million times over, she didn’t know what would.
Her hand was still gripped tight in his and he didn’t seem in any hurry to let her go. But he should. She pulled free and crossed her arms, wishing for a cover-up. Why did that glint in James’s eye cause her to feel so exposed all at once?
“I’m curious,” James said casually as if the vibe between them had just cooled, which it most definitely had not. “Why did your father send you a picture of Will?”
“Oh, so I would know what he looks like.” Actually, she’d demanded he do so. There was no way she was getting on a plane to meet someone blind.
“I’m sensing there’s more to the story.” His raised eyebrows encouraged her to elaborate.
“Wouldn’t you wonder about the appearance of a person your father wanted you to marry? I sure did.”
Surprise flew across James’s face. “Your father wants you to marry Will? Does Will know about this?”
“Of course he does. Your father was the instigator, actually. You didn’t know our fathers cooked up this idea of an arranged marriage?”
His laugh was far more derisive this time. “The elder Rowling doesn’t share much of what goes on his head. But somehow it doesn’t shock me to discover dear old Dad wants his son married to a member of the royal family. Did you agree?”
“No! Well, not yet anyway. I only agreed to meet Will and see what happened. I’m not really in the market for a steady relationship, let alone one as permanent as marriage.”
Groaning, she bit her lip. Too late to take that back, though it had been the God-honest truth. Regardless, spilling her guts to the brother of her potential fiancé wasn’t the best plan. James would probably run off and tell Will his future bride had felt up his brother on the beach— totally not her fault!—flirted with him—maybe partially her fault—and then declared marriage to be worse than the plague.
Instead of falling to his knees in shock, James winked and dang, even that was sexy.
“Woman after my own heart. If you don’t want to get married, why even agree to meet Will?”
Why was she still standing here talking to the wrong brother? She should go. There was nothing for her here. But she couldn’t make herself walk away from the spark still kicking between them.
“It’s complicated,” she hedged.
She sighed and glanced over her shoulder, but there was no one in earshot. She didn’t want to draw the attention of a camera lens, but surely it couldn’t hurt to spend a few minutes chatting with the man who might become her brother-in-law...so she could keep reminding herself that’s who he was to her. If nothing else, she could set the record straight in case he intended to repeat this conversation verbatim to his brother.
“I’m the king of uncomplicating things,” James said with another laugh that curled her toes deeper into the sand. “Try me.”
It wasn’t as if anyone was expecting her back at the gargantuan house perched on the cliff behind them. Gabriel was never home and her father... Well, she wasn’t dying to run into him again.
She shrugged. “We’re all new at this royalty thing. I don’t want to be the one to mess it up. What if I don’t try with Will and it has horrible repercussions for my brother Gabriel? I can’t be responsible for that.”
“But if you meet Will and you don’t like him, how is that different than not meeting him in the first place? Either way, you don’t end up with him and the repercussions will be the same.”
How come she’d never thought of that? “That’s a good point.”
“Told you. I can uncomplicate anything. It’s a skill.” James’s smile widened as he swept her with an impossible to misinterpret look. “I just figure out what I want to do and justify it. Like...if I wanted to kiss you, I’d find a way.”
As his gaze rested on her lips, heat flooded her cheeks. And other places. She could practically feel the weight of his kiss against her mouth and he hadn’t even moved. A pang of lust zinged through her abdomen and she nearly gasped at the strength of it. What was it about him that lit her up so fiercely?
“You shouldn’t be talking about kissing.” She inwardly cursed. That should have come out much more sternly, instead of breathy with anticipation. “Flirting as a whole is completely off-limits.”
A hint of challenge crept into his expression and then he leaned in, stopping just short of touching her earlobe with his mouth. “Says who?”
“Me,” she murmured as the scent of male and heat coiled up low in her belly, nearly making her weep with want. “I’m weak and liable to give in. You have to be the strong one and stop presenting me with so much temptation.”
He laughed softly. “I’m afraid you’re in a lot of trouble, then.”
“Why?”
“Because I have absolutely no reservations about giving in to temptation.”
The wicked smile spreading across his face sealed it—she was in a lot of trouble. She was supposed to marry his brother. And the last thing she needed was to set herself up for a repeat of the Drew Debacle, where she accidentally broke James’s heart because she ended up with Will. Better all around to stay away from James.
Why did the wrong Rowling have to be so alluring and so delicious?
Maybe she could find Will similarly attractive if she just gave him a chance.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” All right, then. She was going to have to be the one to step away. Noted.
So step away. Right now.
Through a supreme act of will, she somehow did. James’s gorgeous aqua eyes tracked her movement as she put one foot, then two between them. He nodded once, apparently in understanding but definitely not in agreement.
“See you around, Princess.”
He stood there, one hip cocked in a casual stance that screamed Bad Boy, and she half waved before she turned and fled.
As she climbed the stairs to the house, she resisted looking over her shoulder to see if she could pick out James’s yellow T-shirt amidst the other sun worshippers lounging on the white sand. He wasn’t for her and there was no getting around the fact that she wished otherwise.
James Rowling was forbidden. And that might be his most attractive quality.
