it quicker than that. Yet looking at her drawn face and shadowed eyes he didn’t think it had been some kind of revenge. She’d actually, in her own way, been trying.
‘So you finished your first day,’ he said lightly. He had come to stand quite close to her in order to finish the filing, and he was conscious of her slender form, the sweep of her satiny cheek, the way her chest rose and fell. He took a step back. ‘Congratulations.’
She gave him a sharp look, reminding him, to his relief, of the spoilt princess he’d encountered at the engagement party. ‘Much to your disappointment, I’m sure.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘I would. You made this bet in order to see me fail.’ She spoke flatly, without her usually lilting playfulness, and Ben found he missed it.
‘I made this bet—’ he began, then stopped. Why had he insisted she volunteer for him for a month? His own kind of revenge for her being the kind of partying, publicity-seeking princess she was? Or to teach her a lesson? Or something far more dangerous—because he wanted to see her again, wanted to be near her? He didn’t like any of the choices.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Natalia jibed softly. ‘Never mind. One day down, twenty-nine to go.’ She turned to fetch her coat but Ben got there first, holding it up for her. ‘So I can hang up my own coat but not put it back on?’ she mocked, yet he sensed a brittle edge to her tone, to her whole self, that he hadn’t heard before. It made him wonder what would happen when that brittle edge cracked. What was underneath?
She slipped her arms into the sleeves and as his fingers brushed her shoulders he felt her twang with awareness, her body as taut as a tightly strung bow. He also felt the answering jolt of lust ricochet through his own body, so strong it took all his self-control to release her.
‘Let’s call a truce for the evening,’ he said, and she turned, close enough to him that her hair brushed his cheek as she moved.
‘Are you serious? Where’s the fun in that?’
‘I’m not sure. But keeping up with you is exhausting, Princess.’
‘Of course it is,’ she replied tartly. ‘I move fast.’ She swept past him to the door, and Ben was left wondering if she’d been warning him—or putting herself down. She’d sounded almost bitter.
‘Let me buy you a drink,’ he suggested, ‘since we both survived.’ The invitation shocked him. The last thing he wanted was to appear in public with Princess Natalia. The press would go wild photographing them, with all the accompanying gossip and speculation. Exactly the kind of thing he despised.
Except right now all he could think about was what he wanted. Natalia stared at him, her eyes wide, moist pink lips parted, and lust jolted him again, as if he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket. Going out with Natalia—even if only for a drink—was surely just as dangerous and foolish a thing to do.
Almost as if she sensed the nature of his thoughts, her eyes flashed fire and she buttoned up her coat. ‘I never say no to a drink,’ she said, and walked out the door.
NATALIA decided to take Ben to a trendy, high-end wine bar near the market square, one of her regular haunts. She could have gone somewhere more discreet, where she wouldn’t be noticed, but some childish impulse in her made her choose the more obvious place, although whether she wanted to prove Ben right about her or just annoy him she couldn’t say. The moment they arrived the waiter fawned over her, stammering in his nervous haste.
‘Princess Natalia! I didn’t realise you might be gracing us with your presence tonight. Your usual table?’
She waved a hand airily. ‘Thank you, Paulo, but perhaps something in the back this time.’ Her usual table was in the front window, perfect for the paparazzi, but she had a feeling Ben would balk at that. She could show some consideration. She glanced back at Ben, expecting his eyes to have narrowed and lips thinned in disapproval at her notoriety, but his expression was unreadable. ‘They know who I am here,’ she explained flippantly, and he arched an eyebrow.
‘So it appears.’
The waiter led them to a discreet table in the back, tucked in its own corner, and two more waiters descended on them with bowls of olives and nuts.
Ben took the proffered wine list and scanned it blandly, giving Natalia a chance to study him. She nibbled on a nut—in the end she hadn’t actually eaten much of the fabulous lunch and she was starving—and gazed at him from under her lashes.
He really was a most attractive man. His hair, light brown and cut quite short, emphasised the hard planes of his cheekbones and jaw. Funny how brown hair and blue eyes—both so ordinary—could look so amazing, so assured and masculine on this one man. Also amazing was the way her body responded to the whole of his features, her heart rate kicking up so she felt nearly breathless.
He glanced up, caught her staring and gave her an all-too-knowing smile. In the dim light his navy eyes glinted almost blackly. ‘Any preference?’ he asked, indicating the wine list.
‘How about champagne?’ Natalia suggested, and from the way his eyes narrowed she knew Ben was thinking of the bottle of wine at lunch.
‘Champagne, it is.’ No sooner had he closed the wine list than a waiter hurried to serve them. ‘A bottle of your best champagne,’ Ben said blandly, and Natalia arched an eyebrow.
‘Do you know how much that will cost?’ she asked after the waiter had left and Ben sat back in his chair, scanning the well-heeled crowd around them.
‘In a place like this? I’d say about three thousand euros. But I didn’t think you concerned yourself with filthy lucre, Princess.’
‘I don’t,’ she threw back at him. ‘But I thought you might. New money and all that.’
‘I thought we were calling a truce.’
‘And I said there was no fun in that.’
Ben gazed at her, his expression thoughtful, assessing. Uncomfortable. He’d looked at her with compassion when he’d finished the filing for her, and this was just about as bad. Too understanding. Too knowing. Natalia shifted in her seat, recrossed her legs. ‘So you’re going to bait me and bicker with me for the next month?’ he finally asked.
She shrugged, unwilling to admit how exhausting that sounded. But what other choice did she have? What else did she do? She certainly couldn’t attempt honesty. Intimacy. She’d tried that once and it had been a complete disaster. Just like it had been for Carlotta, ending up heartbroken and a single mother in the bargain. ‘Until it gets old,’ she finally told him with an attempt at breeziness.
‘And how long will that be, do you think?’
‘It depends how much fun you are.’
‘I think we have different definitions of fun.’
‘I have no doubt about that,’ she assured him, and he gave her a small smile.
‘So, Princess,
