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She leaned in a fraction. “And I don’t intend to. Stop flirting with me.”
“Am I flirting with you?”
“I think so.” If he wasn’t that was just too horrifying.
“I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
She swallowed. “Look, I know women melt at your feet and all, but I have a job to do, so best you leave me unmelted, okay?”
He leaned back, his lips curving into a smile. “But you’re in danger of melting.”
She was afraid she might be. “No. Sorry.”
He chuckled and settled back in his seat.
The limo stopped in front of a small, whitewashed building that was set into the side of a mountain. The building was tiny, but the deck was expansive, filled with round tables, most occupied by diners. The tables overlooked the beach, with strings of white lights running overhead.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded and put her beer in a cupholder. He got out of the car before her and opened her door. “Isn’t your driver supposed to do that?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I always open the door when I accompany a woman.”
“Another one for your file,” she said.
“I’m not sure whether I’m nervous or aroused at the talk of this file. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble, which leads to the same conflicting feelings.”
Heat flooded her cheeks, her stomach. “That’s inappropriate.”
“You’re the only one who can make jokes?”
“No … but I didn’t make any that were that bad.”
“BA? Bedroom Activities?”
“That was serious!” she sputtered as they walked into the restaurant.
“Prince Stavros.” A maître d’ walked to the door quickly, her willingness to serve the prince obvious, as was the blush staining her cheeks. “I wasn’t aware you were coming today.”
He winked. “I’m being spontaneous.”
“Of course,” the woman said. “Your usual table is available. Shall I bring you your usual dinner? For … two?”
Jessica opened her mouth to correct the woman’s assumption, but Stavros cut her off.
“That will do nicely. I can show us to my table.”
He led the way through the indoor dining area, and heads turned as they passed. Stavros had a sort of effortless charisma that poured from him, touching everyone who saw him. She could imagine, so easily, the kind of woman he would need.
One who could match his ease. His strength. Someone to create the perfect image for Kyonos. Someone to carry on the bloodline and keep it strong.
She swallowed a strange, unexpected lump in her throat.
They exited the dining room through two glass doors that led out to the deck. There were only a few scattered tables out there, each partly shrouded by draping fabric hung from a wooden frame built over the porch.
Stavros held her chair out for her and she sat, looking out at the view of the ocean, because it was much safer than looking at the man sitting across from her. She wasn’t sure why. She had meetings with male clients, and very often they were lunch or dinner meetings, in very nice restaurants.
But being with them didn’t evoke this same strange faux-date feel that being with Stavros did. It was that darned attraction.
She opened her purse and pulled out her iPad. “So, I know we were going to talk about specific women to have come to your sister’s wedding.”
“Were we? Now?” He curled his hands into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white. It was hard for her to look away from his hands, from the obvious strain. His face remained passive, easy, but his manner betrayed him.
“Well, no, but I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow, so … no. But we can talk about it now. I’ve had a chance to think about what you’ve told me and I’ve been through my system. I also called two of the three women I’m thinking of and if you’re agreeable to them, they’re willing to come for consideration.”
“This is like an old-fashioned marriage mart.”
“Well, these sorts of marriages are,” she said. Strangely, she felt like comforting him. She didn’t know why. “Granted, you’re the first actual prince I’ve worked with. But I’ve dealt with lesser royals. Billionaires with an interest in preserving their fortunes. Women with family money who wanted an alliance with businessmen who could help them make the most of their assets. People have all kinds of reasons for choosing to go about things this way. Some of these women have money, but no title, while others have a title but are … low on funds.”
“Ah. A title, but no money and a need for a husband with wealth.”
“Some of them. Though this one …” She pulled up a picture of a smiling blonde. “Victoria Calder. She’s English, from a very well-to-do family. She’s not titled but she’s wealthy. She’s been to the best schools. She has her own money and she donates a lot of it to charities. As far as my research has taken me, and it took me to the far and seedy recesses of the internet, her reputation is as spotless as a sacrificial lamb. So if a prominent title isn’t important …”
“As long as you think she would be suitable to the position, she can be considered.”
“So basically fertile and scandal-free. And able to handle public appearances with grace and poise, of course.”
Stavros took the tablet from Jessica’s hand and looked at the photo of the woman on the screen. She was beautiful. More than beautiful, really. He couldn’t find fault with her features. A small, pert nose, pretty, well-shaped lips, rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes.
Yet she did nothing for him. She didn’t stir his blood. She didn’t interest him. More than that, just looking at her made his throat feel like it was tightening. The impression of a noose.
He preferred Jessica’s face. Her longer nose, fuller lips, cat green eyes that tilted at the corners. And her figure … she was like a pin-up girl.
He wondered, not too briefly, if she favored old-fashioned undergarments to go with her vintage dresses. Stockings and garters.
That caused a surge of blood to pump south of his belt. She was a distraction. A temptation. A welcome one, in many ways.
“Yes.” He shouldn’t be allowing distraction now. He had to focus on finding his bride.
Though, Ms. Jessica Carter would make an intriguing lover. She was all soft curves and pale skin. But her eyes … they showed a fire he imagined she set free in the bedroom. She was spicy, her tongue always ready to flay the skin cleanly off the bone if necessary.
Just as she’d pronounced his commanding personality a plus in bedroom activities, he imagined her sharp mind and bold tongue would earn her points in her own BA category.
It would be so sweet. So good. And a welcome distraction from the marriage talk.
“Anyway,” Jessica continued, pulling him from his fantasy, “she’s one I would like to invite to your sister’s wedding.”
“And she’s aware of just what she’ll be invited for?”
Jessica nodded. “Yes. All of the women I’m working with have come to me, seeking out husbands that are suitable to their backgrounds and financial level, just the same as you.”
“I see. So invariably my future wife will be after a title and wealth—” he looked at the photo of the blonde again “—just as I am.”
“Fair is fair. You both know just what you’re getting into. No false expectations. Not if I can help it.”
“No false expectations? Then can I assume you’re including a list of my faults in the file you’ll be sending on to the women involved?”
“Only if they make it past a certain point in the process. Discretion,” she said.
“Of course.” He looked at her face, illuminated and washed gold by the afternoon sun. She was beautiful. Not due to perfection of features, or from the expertly applied makeup, though. Her features were beautiful, and her makeup was expertly done. But it was something more. Something deeper.
She was captivating. Different.
Sexy.
His stomach tightened. “And the first wave of the process begins at my sister’s wedding.”
“That’s right. Is that okay? Or do you feel it will detract from—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted. It was strange to think of Evangelina married. To think of her as a woman rather than a little girl. “My sister is in love,” he said.
“That’s good. Since she’s getting married.”
He gave her a look. “But you know that’s not really how things work around here. Not necessarily.”
“True.”
“She was meant to marry for the good of Kyonos. She is marrying her bodyguard instead.”
“Are you angry about it?” she asked, her eyes meeting his, the glittering green light in them far too perceptive.
“Not in the least. Anger is a completely unproductive emotion.” As were most emotions. He’s witnessed it firsthand. He made sure he didn’t have time for them.
“But that leaves only you.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I can do it.”
“And your brother …”
“Might as well be dead. He doesn’t care for his country. He doesn’t care for his family, his people. He might as well have died with our mother.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue and he wished he had some ouzo to wash it out with. Bitterness wasn’t helpful, either.
As if on command, a waiter appeared with a tray, laden with food and drinks, and set them down on their table. Stavros took the drink first, while Jessica picked up a stuffed grape leaf and turned it in her fingers.
He took a quick hit of the strong alcohol. “I’m happy for Eva. And her husband does bring a lot to the country in terms of assets and security. Mak is a billionaire several times over. She’s hardly marrying beneath herself, even if he isn’t royalty.”
Beneath Stavros’s casual manner, Jessica could sense his dark mood. He was very good at playing smooth, very good at coming across as the genial prince. Ready to smile for a photograph. Never caught scowling by a scandal-hungry public, who would latch onto the salacious headline declaring one grumpy expression proof of some sort of national crisis.
And yet, she could feel that something wasn’t right. That there was something beneath it.
He was the last man standing. The anchor. How could he not feel it? Of course he would. His sister had abandoned her duty for love, his brother had abandoned it for selfish, personal pleasure. It was only Stavros now.
She felt added pressure. She couldn’t imagine that he didn’t.
“Well, we’ll find you a royal bride who suits the needs of Kyonos, and you, perfectly,” she said, injecting a confidence and enthusiasm into her voice she wasn’t sure she felt.
A half smile curved his lips, a shaft of sunlight hitting his face, that single moment displaying the breathtaking quality he possessed to its very best effect.
She certainly felt as if her breath had been taken. Ripped straight from her lungs. Why did he have to be so hot? More to the point, why did she have to suddenly care how hot he was?
She looked back down at her iPad, at the picture of Victoria Calder. And for the first time ever, she felt her stomach curl in with jealousy in connection with a client.
It was the first and last time it would happen. She couldn’t afford it. Not financially, and most especially not emotionally.
She’d already had everything drained from her in that department. She would never put herself through it again.
CHAPTER THREE
JESSICA tried not to die of despair as she watched one of her favorite potential brides, Dominique Lanphier, standing by the buffet table looking like a deer in the headlights. She was sort of fidgeting, looking as if she was ready to dart away from the table at a moment’s notice and grab Stavros from Corinthia, the petite redhead he was currently engaging in approved conversation with.
This wasn’t her best idea. She could see that now. It was just a pity she was realizing it far too late to change anything. Her prospective brides, normally so well-behaved, were a bit giddy over the chance to compete for a prince and all of the good manners that had been bred into them seemed to have been knocked from their heads the moment they’d entered the palace.
Jessica was sweating. Actually sweating. And trying not to look like anything more than a guest. Which, in the grand ballroom, filled to maximum capacity with nearly one thousand people, shouldn’t be too hard.
Victoria, her best hope for Stavros, had been unavailable for the wedding, which had forced her to bring in Dominique as a last-minute replacement. Something she was bitterly regretting.
“Just stay there,” she whispered, begging Dominique to go with the program, hoping the other woman would absorb the command from across the room.
It just seemed to be getting hotter in the ballroom now, and she could swear the sweetheart neckline of her flirty cocktail dress was about to slip and go from sexy to burlesque. And that would draw far more attention to herself than she wanted.
She gripped the sides of the bodice and tugged at it slightly. Feeling, for a moment, every inch the unsophisticated North Dakota girl she was on the inside. Feeling her persona start to slip.
No. You are not unsophisticated. You are a businesswoman. You are in a castle. Own your inner princess!
Yes. Inner princess. She was sure she had one of those.
She took a deep breath and felt a bit of her anxiety ease as Stavros checked his watch and disengaged Corinthia right on time. Any longer and there would be speculation. And now, he would go to the buffet and it would be Dominique’s turn.
This sort of brief, public meeting, was, in her experience, the perfect way to open. To see people interact in a social situation, to prevent a feeling of enhanced intimacy too quickly.
She had to remind herself of all the reasons it was a good idea now, since she was on the verge of panicking and eating her weight in wedding cake to try and stave off the anxiety. This was what she did. This was her one area of confidence, of expertise. And watching it go very much not according to plan was crazy-making.
The transition went smoothly and she watched Stavros engage Dominique in conversation. So casual it could have been accidental. He was good.
She watched as he leaned in, his body language indicating interest, the smile on his face warm. Genuine. Her throat tightened a bit, and cut off the flow of air entirely when he brushed Dominique’s arm with his hand.
Such a brief touch. And yet, it spoke of attraction.
He hadn’t touched her. Not more than a handshake. And that brief touch at the restaurant. She shouldn’t have a list of the times his skin had made contact with hers. It shouldn’t matter that he was touching someone else.
