position. What had happened to his skills of risk assessment? Since when had the sight of a delicious female body caused him to abandon caution and reason? Women had been throwing themselves in his path since he’d started shaving, but never before had he acted with such lamentable lack of restraint.
She’d set a trap and he’d walked right into it.
‘I know she’s in there. Get this door open.’
Before his security team could act, the door opened and she stood there, looking at him.
Prepared to let loose the full force of his anger, Casper stilled, diverted from his mission by her captivating green eyes.
Holly.
He knew her name now.
She was dressed in an oversized, pale pink tee-shirt with a large embroidered polar bear on the front. Her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders and her feet were bare. It was obvious that she’d been in bed, and she looked at him with shining eyes, apparently thrilled to see him. ‘Your Highness?’
She looked impossibly young, fresh and naïve and Casper wondered again what had possessed him to get involved with someone like her.
She had trouble written across her forehead.
And then she smiled, and for a few seconds he forgot everything except the warmth of that smile. The anger retreated inside him, and the only thing in his head was a clear memory of her long legs wrapped around his waist. Casper gritted his teeth, rejecting the surge of lust, furious with himself, and at the same time slightly perplexed because he’d never in his life felt sexual desire for a woman dressed in what looked like a child’s tee-shirt.
This whole scenario was not turning out the way he’d expected.
How could he still feel raw lust for someone who’d capsized his life like a boat in a storm? And why was she staring at him as if they were acting out the final scenes of a romantic movie? After the stunt she’d pulled, he’d expected hard-nosed negotiation.
‘I see you didn’t bother dressing for my visit.’ Ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes, he strode into the tiny flat without invitation, leaving his security team to ensure their privacy.
‘Well, obviously I had no idea that you’d be coming.’ She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her tee-shirt. ‘It’s been well over two weeks.’
Casper assessed the apartment in a single glance, taking in the rumpled sleeping bag on the sofa. So this was where she’d been hiding. ‘I have a degree in maths. I know exactly how long it’s been.’
Her eyes widened in admiration. ‘You’re good at maths? I always envy people who are good with numbers. Maths was never really my thing.’ Colour shaded her cheeks. ‘But I always had pretty good marks in English. I think I’m more of a creative person.’
At a loss to understand how the conversation had turned to school reports, Casper refocused his mind, the gravity of the situation bearing down on him. ‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’
Biting her lip, she looked away for a few seconds, then met his gaze again. ‘You’re talking about the fact I kissed you in front of the window, aren’t you?’ Her glance was apologetic. ‘It’s probably a waste of time saying this, but I really am sorry. I honestly had no idea how much trouble that would cause. You have to remember I’m not used to the press. I don’t know how they operate.’
‘But you’re learning fast.’ Her attempt at innocence simply fed his irritation. He would have had more respect for her if she’d simply admitted what she’d done.
But no confession was forthcoming. Instead she gave a tentative smile. ‘Well, I’ve been amazed by how persistent they are, if that’s what you’re saying. That newspaper you’re holding—’ she glanced at it warily ‘—is there another story today? I don’t know how you stand it. Do you eventually just get used to it?’
Her friendliness was as unexpected as it was inappropriate, and Casper wondered what on earth she thought she was doing. Did she really think she could act the way she had and still enjoy civilised conversation?
The newspaper still in his hand, he strolled to the window of the flat and looked down into the street. How long did they have? By rights the press should already have found them. ‘I’ve had people looking for you.’
‘Really?’ Her face brightened slightly, as if he’d just delivered good news. ‘I sort of assumed— Well, I thought you’d forgotten about me.’
‘It would be hard to forget about you,’ he bit out, ‘Given that your name has been in the press every day for the past fortnight.’
‘Oh.’ There was a faint colour in her cheeks, and disappointment flickered in her eyes, as if she’d been hoping for a different reason. ‘The publicity is awful, isn’t it? That’s why I’m not at my flat. I didn’t want them to find me.’
‘Of course you didn’t. That would have ruined everything, wouldn’t it?’ He waited for her to crumble and confess, but instead she looked confused.
‘You sound really angry. I don’t really blame you, although to be honest I thought you’d be used to all the attention by now. D-do you want to sit down or something, sir?’ Stammering nervously, she swept the sleeping bag from the sofa, along with a jumper, an empty box of tissues and a pair of sheer black stockings that could have come straight from the pages of an erotic magazine. Bending over revealed another few inches of her impossibly long legs, and Casper’s body heated to a level entirely inconsistent with a cold February day in London.
‘I don’t want to sit down,’ he said thickly, appalled to discover that despite her sins all he really wanted to do was spread her flat and re-enact their last encounter.
Her gaze clashed with his and everything she was holding tumbled onto the floor. ‘C—can I get you a drink? Coffee? It’s just instant—nothing fancy—’ Her voice was husky and laced with overtones that suggested coffee was the last thing on her mind. Colour darkened her cheeks and she dragged her gaze from his, clearly attempting to deny the chemistry that had shifted the temperature of the room from Siberian to scorching.
‘Nothing.’
‘No. I don’t suppose there’s much here that would interest you.’ She tugged at the tee-shirt again. ‘Sorry—this whole situation is a bit surreal. To be honest, I can’t believe you’re here. I mean, you’re a prince and I’m—’
‘Pinching yourself?’
‘It is weird,’ she confided nervously. ‘And a bit awkward, I suppose.’
‘Awkward?’ Shocked out of his contemplation of her mouth by her inappropriate choice of adjective, Casper turned on her. ‘We’ve gone way beyond awkward.’ His tone was savage, and he saw her take several steps backwards. ‘What were you thinking? What was going on in that manipulative female brain of yours? Was it all about making a quick profit? Or did you have an even more ambitious objective?’
The sudden loss of colour from her face made the delicate freckles on her nose seem more pronounced. ‘Sorry?’
Casper slammed the newspaper front-page up onto the coffee table. ‘I hope you
