Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (9 page)

Backing off that kiss in the Jeep was the toughest thing he’d done in a long time.
 
He’d wanted to pull her across the gearshift and into his lap, to taste the salt on her skin and savor the hint of beachiness that clung to her hair.
 
He’d yearned for her as desperately as a child yearned for chocolate chip cookies after watching them bake and inhaling their mouth-watering aroma, but when Kelly’s tongue grazed his and she softened in his arms, he feared his intense reaction might send her scurrying into the house alone.

So he’d backed off.
 
And waited.
 
And wondered at the intensity of their connection.

Was his driving need a response to being deprived of female companionship during his time away, or was it a response to this particular woman?
 
He suspected the latter, though he didn’t want to contemplate it too much.
 
Better to indulge in the sight of her leaning against the kitchen wall, her gorgeous sundress highlighting her assets while her eyes skimmed over him as if she were deciding what to do with him now that he stood in her kitchen.
 

“You did say you’d come for perspective,” he pointed out.
 
“I couldn’t imagine a better location.”

“It’s as different from my life at home as I can get, and that makes it perfect.”
 
She pushed off the wall and set her small handbag on the kitchen counter, then withdrew a heavy-bottomed bowl from the cupboard.

He eyeballed the bowl as he made his way to the other side of the counter that divided the sitting area from the kitchen, affording her space to move.
 
“Odd choice for a wineglass.”

“This is for Gaspare.”
 
She filled it with water and set it on the tile floor before reaching to the cupboard once more.
 
Holding up two wineglasses, she said, “These are for us.”

He uncorked the bottle as she came around the counter to join him.
 
“This place came fully stocked with everything I could want.
 
Well, except groceries.
 
Those were supposed to be delivered this afternoon after I arrived, but the market called and said there was some problem, so they won’t be able to come until tomorrow.”

“Yet somehow, you managed to find a meal.”
 

She shot him a mischievous grin.
 
“That I did.”

He surveyed the spacious living room.
 
On one wall, a sleek television topped a long console crafted of local wood stained black.
 
Several modern leather chairs on silver legs were arranged on either end of an off-white wool rug fronting the television, while a thick, dark brown sofa faced the television itself.
 
In the center of the room, an oval coffee table straight from an Italian design magazine sported several glass coasters, a series of jade plants in squat terracotta pots, and an empty glass bottle of cola.
 
The giant blue and green abstract painting above the sofa was one he recognized as the work of an artist who lived in Cateri.
 
Sliding glass doors at the end of the room opened onto a balcony that overlooked the beach.

This place couldn’t have come cheap.
 
As rewards went, this was a good one.
 
She’d obviously taken great pains in her planning, since the stack of tourist brochures and guidebooks on an end table near the balcony doors were punctuated with bright yellow sticky notes.
 

He poured a glass of wine for each of them, then held up his glass and gave it a gentle swish.
 
The scent of the dark red liquid teased his nose.
 
“To what should we toast?”

She stood only a step away, close enough for him to wrap his arm around her, pull her body flush with his, and kiss her once more if he desired.
 
Much as he wanted to feel her against him, to show her exactly how pleasurable the night could be given the preview he’d had in the Jeep, he sensed her need to ease into physical intimacy.

He wasn’t sure he could remain patient.

She raised her glass.
 
Tipping her head slightly, she met his gaze and said, “To my luck at meeting a polite, funny, ordinary guy on a spectacular beach.”

“Ordinary?”
 
Talk about a blow to the ego.
 
“How charming of you.”
 

“Believe me, ordinary is good,” she said in dead seriousness.
 
“And remember, I also said polite and funny.”

Not hot?
 
Sexy?
 
Doable?
 
Not that he expected her to utter that particular word in a million years, but he’d sure like her to think it.
 
When she’d asked if he was safe, he’d hoped it was a tease…in that she’d like a night that was decidedly
un
safe.
 
A vacation escapade.

Instead, her toast could have described her postman or bus driver, people whose conversations consisted of a sentence at most when she encountered them over the course of the day.
 
Not a man with whom she might embark on a sizzling affair.

“You’re telling me you’re the only woman on the planet who doesn’t harbor a secret wish to be swept off her feet by a man who’s rich and powerful?
 
No fairy tale princess fantasies for you?”
 
He said it in jest, but found himself curious to hear her response now that she’d used
ordinary
as a compliment.
 
Nearly every woman he’d encountered in his life knew his identity and all that came with it from the moment they met.
 
In Sarcaccia, he was well known on the streets.
 
In the military, his unit knew his background cold.
 
And during his travels abroad, his arrangements had been made beforehand by the palace, meaning he had little opportunity to move about anonymously.
 

“None whatsoever,” she insisted.
 
“Rich and powerful are overrated traits as far as relationships go.
 
In fact, I’d say they’re a detriment.
 
I’d rather go to dinner with a laid-back guy who owns a simple fishing boat than a luxury yacht.
 
One who has friends like Giulia and Guillermo and takes me to a restaurant for a meal made with love instead of a swanky place with fussy tablecloths and an overblown maître d’.
 
Besides, rich and powerful men are treated differently, so they view the world differently.
 
And that includes how they conduct their relationships.”
 

Apparently she’d had experience with rich and powerful, and the experience it hadn’t gone well.
 
Interesting.
 

She angled her chin in challenge.
 
“Too much perspective for you?”

“Not at all.
 
I find it fascinating.”
 
There was a lot to be said for anonymity if this was what he could discover.
 
She might’ve asked about his last name, but she still hadn’t made the connection, even with Giulia’s slip about Sophia.
 
He doubted Kelly would’ve spoken so candidly if she had.
 

“In that case” —she raised her glass, and he couldn’t help but grin at the irony of what he suspected she was about to say— “here’s to an ordinary guy who treated me to an extraordinary dinner.
 
You’ve made my vacation in Sarcaccia special.”

Well.
 
He’d take that.
 
“And to you, for accepting the dinner invitation despite not knowing my last name or exact height.”

“Or your eye color.”
 
She clinked her glass lightly against his and took a sip.
 
After he took a deep drink from his own glass, she set hers on the countertop and surprised him by taking his and setting it on the counter beside hers, then reaching up to touch a spot at his temple.
 
Slowly, she ran the tip of her finger around the outside of his left eye to his cheekbone, peering at him as a doctor might evaluate a patient but with a feathery touch that nearly made him come out of his skin.
 
It had been a long, long time since a female touched him with such tenderness.
 
“I’m still not sure if they’re brown or green.”

He managed to find his voice.
 
“Feel free to come closer and take a better look.”
 

A mixture of trepidation and anticipation filled her gaze as her hand drifted back to her side.
 
“If I come any closer, I won’t be looking at your eyes.”

“Definitely come closer, then.”
 

He’d felt daring in the Jeep, asking Kelly if he’d be invited in, then kissing her the moment he saw an opportunity.
 
That brief taste of her plush lips and sun-warmed skin left him aching for more.
 
But rather than be daring once more and simply take, he wanted her to give.
 
It was all he could do to remain motionless now, waiting for her to close the distance separating them.
 
Or not.
 

His breath stilled in his lungs as he waited, lusted.
 
Then saw the same burning desire reflected in her gaze.

All his life he’d been the good son, sticking to protocol, taking extreme care not to gift the royal gossips with fodder for their publications.
 
He’d never lived life on the edge in the way his brothers had, risking their family’s reputation for a night of partying at a club, carousing with friends, or—as his brother Stefano once did—running barefoot and shirtless past a crowd outside the royal palace so he could see a certain female.

 
He’d certainly never slept with a woman on a first date, despite numerous opportunities.
 
Then again, he’d never been as intrigued with a woman as quickly as he’d become intrigued with Kelly.
 
There was an open, honest quality about her that held him rapt, that made him want, and it was high time he took pleasure in his life and had a bit of fun.
 
He’d worked his tail off in college, despite the expectation he appear at every social gathering imaginable.
 
After graduation he’d risked his life for his country and his fellow soldiers, not to mention the people they’d been sent to protect.
 
He’d done everything expected of a royal son and then some.
 
He deserved to have a night of wild sex, sex without fear of consequences.
 
Sex with a woman whose sensually curved body would be the ultimate indulgence for any man.
 
A woman on vacation, with no expectations whatsoever beyond tonight.
 

A woman whose insights penetrated his very soul when they’d been in that dark, enclosed wine cellar, away from the light of day.
 
She’d seen what others had not.
 

As he drank in the details of her face now, from the turned up eyelashes at the outer edges of her almond eyes to the arches of her dark brows, then to the soft, full lower lip that called to him, he realized that a night with Kelly Chase wouldn’t be something he’d classify as
fun
. It would be far more explosive than that.
 

He craved whatever
it
was more than he craved fun.
 

But she’d have to come to him, and she needed to come to him not knowing anything of who he was other than what he’d chosen to disclose.
 
She had to view a night spent with a relative stranger as part of her reward to herself, part and parcel of the spectacular beach and villa.
 
Not as a means to the royal family, to wealth, to fame, or to security.

She had to want him for him.

“Are all Sarcaccian men as flirtatious as you are?”
 

“I don’t know.
 
They’ve never flirted with me.”

Her laugh was low and seductive.
 
“Ordinary…but not at all boring.
 
How can I resist?”

The word
don’t
never left his mouth.
 
She was on her tiptoes, stretching to kiss him, but her hands remained at her sides.
 
She surprised him once again by shifting just enough to bypass his mouth and brush her lips over his jaw.
 
The short hairs at the back of his neck stood on end as she lingered there, her warm breath stirring him to full arousal.
 
She moved lower, slowly caressing the skin of his neck with her lips, yet touching him nowhere else.
 

“Now who’s the flirt?” he whispered, though the sound was rougher than he’d anticipated.
 
Oh, but this woman knew how to entice.

“I suppose I am.”
 
There was a mixture of desire and nervousness in her exhalation as she continued to tease at his now-sensitized skin with her mouth.
 

“You are” —he struggled to clear his mind enough for the proper phrase that would let her know he wouldn’t think less of her for allowing him to make love to her, yet at the same time making it clear she could cry off at any time if that was what she desired— “one of a kind.
 
No wonder Gaspare made a beeline in your direction when he made it to shore.
 
The boy knew exactly what he was doing.”