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Not that she considered herself unlovable. But the sad truth was, when Chris did choose a wife, she would be considerably younger, with plenty of fertile, child-bearing years ahead of her. A commodity Melissa no longer possessed.
But she wasn’t going to let that fact ruin her vacation. Love was nice, but there was also a lot to be said for smoking-hot, no-strings-attached sex.
She returned his smile and said, “Good morning, Your Highness.”
He lowered himself into a chair across from her, his back to the sun, folding one leg casually atop the other. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very,” she lied. “And you?”
“Quite.” He gazed up at the cloudless blue sky, shading his eyes from the sun with one hand. “Beautiful morning.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “The news this morning said it should be pleasantly warm this afternoon. Around seventy-nine degrees. And no humidity.”
“Some might consider that a little too hot.”
“That’s because they haven’t lived in the deep South of the United States. Seventy-nine is downright balmy.”
He grinned, and for a moment he just looked at her, a spark of amusement in his eyes.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“When you talk about the U.S., your Southern accent thickens.”
“Does it?”
He nodded. “I like it.”
And she liked that he liked it. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time with the flirting this morning. A full day of this and tonight she wouldn’t even think of telling him no.
“Hungry?” he asked with a smoldering grin that said he had more than breakfast on his mind.
“Famished.”
“Breakfast should be ready.” He rose from his seat and held out a hand to help her from the chaise. She took it and his warm fingers curled around her own. He had strong, long-fingered, graceful-looking hands. The thought of what they would feel like on other parts of her body made her shiver.
She hoped she didn’t have to wait too long to find out.
Despite all the natural beauty that Thomas Isle had to offer, Chris had found that most women grew bored with the tour of the family’s vast acreage and greenhouse facilities within the first hour. In fact, with the situation in the east fields he might have welcomed it. He should have known Melissa would be different.
She spent the morning in rapt interest, taking in the sights and sounds and information, asking a million questions, soaking up the answers much the way a parched sponge absorbs moisture. Either she was genuinely interested, or she was one bloody good actress. The morning didn’t lack for sexual teasing and innuendo, either.
The pale-orange sundress she wore barely reached mid-thigh and left all but a few narrow strips of her back exposed. She obviously spent a lot of time either in the sun or the tanning bed. Her skin looked bronzed and smooth and was suspiciously lacking any bathing suit lines, and her legs were a work of art. Long and slim and shapely. About as close to perfection as he’d ever seen.
She wore her long hair down, draped in shiny waves over one shoulder. The effect was exotic and sexy, as was her accent. He liked to test himself, guessing which dialect would emerge next. In serious instances, when she was asking questions about their business or meeting their employees, she sounded more east-coast U.S. When she was excited, she sounded decidedly more Southern. Only when she was teasing, or slaying with that sharp wit, did the deep drawl come through.
If he had to choose, he would say he preferred the drawl the most. And the sassy smile that partnered with it.
At one, when he suggested they head back to the castle for lunch, she seemed genuinely disappointed to be ending the tour.
“But we didn’t see the east fields yet,” she said.
“They’re not going anywhere,” he promised. “Besides, aren’t you hungry?”
“Starved, actually.”
He walked her to the car, hand pressed gently to the small of her back. They had done an awful lot of touching all morning. A caress here, a soft touch there. The accidental brush of their shoulders, or her elbow against his arm. Or maybe it wasn’t accidental at all.
And frankly, he couldn’t wait to get her alone.
“Couldn’t we see the east fields, then have lunch?” she asked.
“I could call ahead and have the cook pack us a picnic lunch,” he suggested, knowing most women ate that romantic sort of thing up.
Her eyes lit and he knew he had her.
She smiled and said, “I suppose the east fields could wait.”
Using his cell phone, he rang the kitchen, arranging for a variety of fruit, crackers and cheese, caviar and a bottle of their best champagne to be prepared. After he hung up, he helped Melissa into the car.
When they were comfortably seated, she turned to him and said, “I get the feeling, Your Highness, that you’re trying to soften me up.”
She didn’t miss a thing. He liked that about her, and at the same time it could prove to be quite an inconvenience. Although there didn’t seem much point in denying it.
He grinned instead and asked, “Is it working?”
She returned the smile, but added a touch of sass. “Ridiculously well.”
Chris knew without a doubt that it would be a very interesting afternoon.
Chapter Six
Melissa couldn’t help but wonder if something was up. While the tour of the fields he did show her was thorough, she had the distinct impression that the foremen she’d been introduced to were on edge about something. They seemed wary of her questions, especially when she brought up the subject of the downfalls of growing organic, things like pests and disease. And it hadn’t escaped her attention that, although the east fields were the closest to the castle and had the largest of their greenhouse facilities, they were the only ones he’d chosen to skip.
That couldn’t possibly be coincidence.
There was definitely something going on, something secret, and it could be any number of things. Possibly even something illegal.
Or maybe she was letting her imagination run wild. Just because the royal family of Morgan Isle was riddled with scandal, it didn’t mean the Alexander family was as well. She would just be sure to keep her eyes open and her ears perked.
When they got back to the castle, a basket packed with everything Chris had requested was waiting for them, along with a thick, soft flannel throw to sit on.
“We could walk down to the bluff and eat by the water,” he suggested.
That sounded like a wonderful idea to her, and she couldn’t help but think that if he really was trying to soften her up, he was doing an excellent job. “I’d love to.”
“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.
She took it and they walked to the bluff together, choosing a pleasant spot in the shade of a knotty old oak that looked as if it had stood on the property as long as the castle. It conveniently blocked the view from the castle windows. Which could be a good or a bad thing.
He spread out the blanket and they sat across from each other. Melissa kicked off her sandals and stretched out, breathing in the salty air, feeling the breeze ruffle her hair and hearing the rush of the ocean against the rocks below. They couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful afternoon for a picnic.
Chris popped the champagne—which sold for several hundred dollars a bottle—and poured them each a glass while she investigated the contents of the basket.
She found a box of gourmet crackers, a can of caviar, a variety of cheeses already sliced and a plastic container with different kinds of fresh fruit. “Everything looks wonderful.”
He handed her a glass of champagne and lifted his in a toast. “To new friends,” he said. “And new beginnings.”
Amen to that. She clinked her glass to his and sipped, the bubbles tickling her nose. She reached for the box of crackers and he gently pushed her hand away. “Why don’t you let me?”
He opened the caviar, spread a dollop on a cracker, and handed it to her, then fixed one for himself. She took a bite and the caviar exploded like little bombs of salty flavor across her tongue. She closed her eyes and savored the decadent sensation. “Delicious.”
“Try a strawberry. They were picked just this morning.”
He held one out to her, already hulled and cut in half, and on impulse, rather than take it with her hand, she leaned forward and took it directly into her mouth, grazing the tip of his thumb with her tongue.
The fruit was plump and juicy and sweet. She moaned and closed her eyes as another explosion of flavor overwhelmed her taste buds.
Maybe it was the atmosphere, or the company, but it was probably the tastiest thing she had ever eaten. When she opened her eyes and looked at Chris, saw the way he was watching her from under lids heavy with desire, she knew that he enjoyed her enjoying it.
“Let’s do that again,” he said. This time he chose a chunk of pineapple, and as he fed it to her, she caught his finger in her mouth to lick off the juice.
“It’s so sweet,” she said. “You should try it.”
She fished a piece out of the bowl and held it out for him. His eyes locked on hers, he leaned forward and took it from her fingers, his tongue brushing the pad of her thumb, and she went limp all over. She watched him chew, mesmerized by his mouth and his jaw and the movement of his throat as he swallowed.
He licked his lips. “Hmm, delicious.”
She wanted to try that again. This time she held out a cherry. He took it with his teeth and when the juice dripped down her finger, and he took the entire thing into his mouth, sucking it clean.
Oh. My. God.
He grinned, a lazy, sexy smile, and said, “Tasty.”
His lips looked so full and inviting, tinted pink from the cherry juice, that she couldn’t resist leaning in for a taste. And though the kiss was meant to be a brief one, he hooked a hand behind her head, tangling his fingers through the silky locks of her hair, and pulled her closer.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into the long, lean length of his body, and a low moan rumbled in his throat. He broke the kiss and gazed down at her, eyes glazed and half-closed. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
She knew exactly what she was doing. “You like it?”
He took her hand and placed it palm down on his chest, so she could feel the heavy thump-thump of his heart. “What do you think?”
She slipped her hand inside the collar of his shirt and touched his bare skin. “Then maybe we should do it some more.”
He reached for her, but she pushed him backward onto the blanket instead, moving the food containers aside so she could scoot closer.
He reached up with one hand to brush her hair back from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I thought I was supposed to be seducing you.”
She leaned down, brushed her lips against his, whispered against them, “That’s not my style.”
His arms went around her and he pulled her down for a deep, searching kiss. He tasted sweet and salty and even more delicious than the food. She fed off his mouth, feeling as though she could eat him up. His hands were on her face and in her hair, stroking her shoulders and her back. She may have been the one seducing him, but he was definitely in on the action. When he rolled her over onto the blanket she didn’t try to stop him. She opened her eyes to find him propped up on one elbow, grinning down at her.
“I’m supposed to be seducing you,” she reminded him. “That’s harder to do from down here.”
“Sorry, love. That’s not my style, either.”
**********
Well, someone was going to have to relinquish control. “I think this could be a problem.”
He shrugged. “So don’t think.”
She was poised for another snappy comeback, but before she could get the words out he was kissing her again, and she completely forget what she’d been about to say. In fact, she forgot everything but the feel of his mouth on hers, and his hands on her body. She wished they were in the castle, in her bedroom, where their clothes wouldn’t have to be in the way.
He kissed her chin, down her throat and she let her head fall back against the blanket. He kissed lower still, across her collarbone, over the swell of her cleavage, whispering sweet words, telling her she was beautiful.
They may have only been words, but he wielded them skillfully and they cut through her defenses like the lethally sharp blade of a gilded sword.
Through a haze of desire, she gradually became aware of a presence beside them. She felt something warm and damp and foul-smelling against her cheek.
Dog breath, she realized.
She opened her eyes to find a small, canine face not an inch from her own. One of those cute little yappy dogs that people like Paris Hilton carted around with them, with bulging eyes and long, ginger-colored hair tied up with a blue ribbon.
“Well, hello there,” she said, and he or she let out an excited yap, which had Chris looking up from Melissa’s cleavage.
He cursed under his breath and said, “Get lost, Muffin.”
Such an adorable name coming from a big tough prince like him made her laugh. “You named your dog Muffin?”
“It’s not my dog.” He sat up and shooed the furry invader away, which only made it jump around and yap excitedly. “He’s Louisa’s bag of fleas.”
“He’s so cute!” She sat up beside Chris and held out a hand for Muffin to sniff. He sniffed daintily, then lapped at her fingers with his tiny pink tongue. “Aren’t you just a sweetheart?”
From a distance, behind the tree somewhere Melissa heard Louisa call out, “Muffin! Here, boy!”
Muffin’s ears perked and he let out a short yap, as if to say “Here I am!”
“Shoo,” Chris said. “Go get her.”
Muffin didn’t budge.
“Over here!” Melissa called to Louisa, and Chris cursed again, but at this point an interruption seemed inevitable. She just hoped her hair wasn’t too much of a mess, or her makeup smeared. Though she was sure Chris has kissed away whatever had been left of her lip gloss.
Louisa rounded the tree, looking young and fresh in white capri pants and a pink blouse. Her hair looked soft and cute pulled back in a low bun. She was graceful and petite, almost to the point of looking fragile.
When she saw the three of them there—Chris, Melissa and Muffin—she smiled. Then she pointed a finger at her dog and said sternly, “Bad boy, Muffin. You know you’re not supposed to run off like that.”
“He’s so cute,” Melissa told her.
