than those of some of the movie starlets he’d been exposed to. Being Prince of Montanari meant that a whole host of women had managed to cross his path over the last few years. Not that he’d taken any of them seriously. He had a duty to his future kingdom. A duty to marry an acceptable neighbouring princess. There was no question about it—it had been instilled in him from a young age it was part of his preparations for finally becoming King. Marriage was a business transaction. It wasn’t the huge love and undying happiness portrayed in fairy tales. There were no rainbows and flying unicorns. It came down to the most advantageous match for the country and his parents had found her. Theresa Mon Carte, his childhood friend and a princess from the neighbouring principality. They were to be married within the year.
Part of the reason he was here was to get some time to resign himself to his fate. Because that was what it felt like.
But right now, he couldn’t think about that at all.
He was entirely distracted by the woman sitting next to him. She looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. There was no Botox here. Her brow was definitely furrowed and somehow he knew this woman would never be interested in cosmetic procedures.
‘Want to tell me about them?’
‘What?’ She looked up, startled at the sound of his voice.
Light brown eyes that looked as if they’d once had a little dark eyeliner around them. It was smudged now. But that didn’t stop the effect.
It was like being speared straight through the heart.
For a second neither of them spoke. It was the weirdest sensation—as if the air around them had just stilled.
He was drinking in everything about her. Her forgotten-about hair. Her crumpled clothes. Her dejected appearance.
But there was something else. Something that wouldn’t let him break their gaze. A buzz. An air. He’d never felt something like this before. And she felt it too.
He could tell. Her pupils dilated just a little before his eyes. He didn’t have any doubt that his were so big right now the Grand Canyon could fit in them.
There was something about her demeanour. This woman was a professional. She was educated. And she was, oh, so sexy.
He found his tongue. ‘Your worries.’ He couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn upwards.
She gave the briefest rise of her eyebrows and turned back towards the waiting wine glass. Her shoulders straightened a little. He’d definitely caught her attention.
Just as she’d caught his.
He leaned a little closer and nudged her shoulder. ‘You’re sitting on my favourite bar stool.’
‘Didn’t have your name on it,’ she quipped back.
Her accent. It was unmistakeable. The Scottish twang made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He could listen to that all day. Or all night.
She swung her legs around towards him and leaned one arm on the bar. ‘Come to think of it, you must be kind of brave.’ She took a sip of her wine. Her eyebrows lifted again. ‘Or kind of stupid.’
He liked it. She was flirting back. He leaned his arm on the bar too, so they were closer than ever. ‘What makes you think that?’
She licked her lips. ‘Because you’re trying to get between a Scots girl and the bar.’ She smiled as she ran her eyes up and down the length of his body. It was almost as if she’d reached her fingers out and touched him. ‘Haven’t you heard about Scots girls?’
He smiled and leaned closer. ‘I think I might need a little education.’ He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.
Instant attraction. He’d never really experienced it before. Not like this. He’d wanted to come in here to hide and get away from things. Now, his sanctuary had become a whole lot more exciting.
A whole lot more distracting.
His stomach flipped over. What if he never felt like this again? Or even worse, what if he felt like this when he was King of Montanari and married?
Right now he was none of those things. The engagement hadn’t been announced. He was about to step into a life of duty and constant scrutiny.
Theresa was a friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. They’d never even shared a kiss.
He hadn’t come here to meet anyone. He hadn’t come here to be attracted to someone.
But right now he was caught in a gaze he didn’t want to escape from. The pull was just too strong.
Something flitted across her eyes. It was as if her confidence wavered for a second.
‘What’s wrong?’ He couldn’t help himself.
She sucked in a breath. ‘Bad day at the office.’
‘Anything to do with a man?’ It was out before he thought.
She blinked and gave a little smile again, pausing for a second. ‘No. Definitely nothing to do with a man.’
It was as if he’d just laid himself bare. Finding out the lie of the land. He couldn’t ignore the warm feeling that spread straight through him.
He had no royal duties this weekend. There were no hands he needed to shake. No business he needed to attend to. He’d told Security he was coming here and to keep their distance.
If he lived to be a hundred he’d remember this. He’d remember this meeting and the way it made him feel. The buzz was so strong the air practically sparkled around her.
He was still single. He could do this. Right now he would cross burning coals to see what would happen next.
He leaned even closer. ‘I came here to get some peace and quiet. I came here to get some head space.’ He gave her a little smile and lowered his voice. ‘But, all of a sudden, there’s no space in my head at all.’
He took a chance. ‘How about I stop searching for some peace and quiet, and you forget all about your bad day?’
She ran her fingers up the stem of her wine glass. He could tell she was thinking. She looked up from beneath heavy eyelids. ‘You mean, like a distraction. An interlude?’
The warm glow in his body started to rapidly rise. He nodded. ‘A distraction.’
She licked her lips again and he almost groaned out loud. ‘I think a distraction might be just what I need,’ she said carefully.
He tried to quieten the cheerleader squad currently yelling in his head.
‘I’ve always wanted to meet a Scots girl. Will you teach me how to wear a kilt?’ He waved to the barman. ‘There are some killer cocktails in here. You look like a Lavender Fizz kind of girl.’
‘I’ll do better than that.’ There was a hint of mischief in her voice. ‘I’ll teach you how to take it off.’
* * *
This
