made it to the altar. Now, about our excursions…Despite what Mr. Gustavo said about Vincent Reynard picking up your tab, I don’t want to go overboard with expenses.”
“I will keep that in mind. Are you more of an outdoor person or the museum type?”
She said a silent thank-you that he accepted her change of subject. “I prefer to be outside since I spend most of my waking hours inside.”
“Doing…?”
Who was interviewing whom here? He didn’t act like any potential employee she’d ever questioned. He was a little too arrogant, a little too confident, a little too in charge. But that only made him more attractive. “I’m a physician’s assistant in a metropolitan hospital. What kinds of outings do you suggest?”
“There are numerous outdoor activities within a short distance that would cost little or nothing. Sunbathing, snorkeling, sailing, windsurfing, hiking, biking, fishing and rock climbing.”
He ticked off the items on long ringless fingers bearing neatly trimmed, clean nails. She had a thing about hands, and his were great, the kind she’d love to have gliding over her skin.
“If you have more than a few hours we can go river rafting or spelunking in the Alpes-Maritimes or drive across the border into Italy or France to explore some of the more interesting villages.”
“I’m not a sun lizard. Isn’t that what they call the people who lay on the rocks of the jetty? I prefer action to lazing about, and cold, dark places give me the creeps, so let’s skip the sunbathing and the spelunking and go with everything else. You’ll arrange the tours and any equipment rental and provide me with the details?”
“It will be my pleasure.”
She’d bet he knew a thing or two about pleasure, and if she was lucky, he’d share that knowledge. She slid a piece of paper across the table. “Here’s my tentative schedule for the next month. I’ve blacked out the times when I’m unavailable. That’s my suite number in the top corner. You’ll have to call me there or leave a message for me at the front desk since my cell phone doesn’t work in Europe.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone somewhere without a pager or cell phone, usually both, clipped to her clothing, and she couldn’t decide whether she felt free or naked without the familiar weight bumping her hip.
A breeze swept into the open-air café, catching and ruffling the paper. She flattened her hand over it to keep it from blowing away. Damon’s covered hers a split second later as he did the same. The heat of his palm warmed her skin. Electricity arced up her arm. Judging by the quick flare of his nostrils, she wasn’t the only one feeling the sparks, but she couldn’t see his eyes to be sure and that frustrated her.
She tilted her head, but didn’t withdraw her hand. He didn’t smile as he slowly eased his away, dragging his fingers the length of hers and igniting embers inside her.
“You know, Damon, if you’re going to flirt with me it would be much more effective without the glasses. Hot glances don’t penetrate polarized lenses.”
He stilled and then deliberately reached up to remove his sunglasses with his free hand. “Are you interested in a flirtation, Madeline?”
The one-two punch of his accented voice huskily murmuring her name combined with the desire heating his eyes quickened her pulse and shortened her breath. “That depends. Are you married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“I am not committed to anyone at this time.”
“Gay?”
He choked a laugh. “Definitely not.”
“Healthy?”
His pupils dilated. He knew what she meant. “I have recently received a clean bill of health.”
Excitement danced within her. “Then, Damon, we’ll see if you have what it takes to tempt me.”
Two
“This is a mistake, if I may say so, Dominic.” Only in the privacy of their suite did Ian dare use Dominic’s given name. Seventeen years together had built not only familiarity, but friendship.
“Damon. Damon Rossi,” Dominic corrected as he packed for his first outing with Madeline Spencer.
“How am I to remember that?”
“D.A. Rossi is the name I sign on official documents, including the hotel registration. Damon is but a combination of my initials and an abbreviation of our country.”
“Clever. But if the paparazzi catch you with a woman on the eve of your engagement…”
“As of this morning there is no engagement. A woman has not been selected, and if the council continues to argue as they have done for the past four months over birthing hips, pedigrees and whatever other absurd qualities they deem necessary for a princess, they will never come to an agreement, and I will not be forced to propose to a woman I know or care nothing about.”
The council members had dehumanized the entire process. Not once had they asked Dominic’s preferences. They might as well be choosing animals to breed from a bloodline chart.
Dominic had been nineteen when the council had chosen Giselle as his future bride, and he had not objected for he’d known her since they were children. His parents and hers had been friends for decades. He had convinced their families to postpone the marriage until after he obtained his university degree, and in those intervening years he and Giselle had become friends and then lovers before becoming husband and wife.
In the nine years since her death he had not met one single woman who made an effort to see the man behind the title and fortune.
And now once again the council would decide his fate as the traditions of his country decreed, a circumstance which did not please him, but one he was duty-bound to accept. But this time the idea of the group of predominantly old men choosing a stranger to be his wife did not sit well.
Dominic threw a change of clothing on top of the towels, masks and fins already in his dive bag. “Mademoiselle Spencer wishes to see Monaco. I wish to explore the tourist venues as a vacationer instead of as a visiting prince. Perhaps I will see a different side to the enterprises than I have seen before. The knowledge will benefit Montagnarde’s tourist development plan which, as you know, I will present to the economic board again in two months. This time I will not accept defeat. They will back my development plan.”
He had spent the years since he’d left university studying successful tourist destinations and laying the groundwork to replicate similar enterprises in his homeland. He wanted to model Montagnarde’s travel industry after Monaco’s, but the older members of the board refused to accept that the country had to grow its economic base or continue to lose its youth to jobs overseas. His father had sworn to lend his support in return for Dominic agreeing to marry before the end of his thirty-fifth year. With sovereign backing Dominic’s plan would be passed.
“You know nothing about this woman,” Ian insisted.
“A circumstance
