up with someone the queen hired, the guide would surely be a bodyguard, too.
“That I don’t.”
“You don’t want the queen’s guide, or you don’t want any guide? Because I’d be glad to show you a few sights today.”
Amira looked uncertain. “Don’t you have to work?”
“I haven’t taken a day off in far too long. I can’t think of a better way to spend it than showing you what I like best about Chicago. What do you say?”
A slow smile crept across her pretty lips. “The queen did say I should see some of the sights.”
“A royal command if I ever heard one.”
At that, Amira laughed and her hesitation seemed to vanish. “I have to shower and get dressed. Should I meet you somewhere?”
He didn’t want to crowd her or make her feel uncomfortable. If he did, she’d run in the opposite direction. “I do have a few arrangements to make. Would you like to go to the theater tonight, or dancing at a club?”
“Dancing.” She looked like a child who’d been given a Christmas present.
“Okay, dancing it is. Let’s eat, and I’ll meet you in the lobby in a half hour. Is that enough time?”
Their gazes caught and held.
“Yes, that’s enough time,” she murmured.
As they finished breakfast, Marcus knew he had to get out of this hotel room, away from Amira and that bed quickly before he kissed her and led her to it. She wasn’t that kind of woman, and today he wasn’t going to be that kind of man.
Still, she was so alluring, with her blond waves mussed and her flowered satin robe clinging so wonderfully to all her curves. He couldn’t keep away from her. Covering the few steps between them, he lifted her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was supposed to be a chaste kiss, a light kiss, but when he lifted his head, he was aroused. It was a good thing they’d be sight-seeing today. If they were on the move, he could restrain the desire to pull her into his arms.
He stepped away. “In a half hour,” he reminded her huskily.
Then he left Lady Amira Sierra Corbin feeling more alive than he had in two long years.
The October day couldn’t have been more perfect. The sky was blue, the air held a tinge of autumn, the sun gleamed off skyscraper windows. It was a day of play and fun and teasing. Brent found he could very easily rattle Amira with a seductive look, a little bit more than a friendly touch. When she’d appeared in the lobby in a forest-green pantsuit, he’d arched a brow and asked if that was her idea of casual. Very seriously she’d said that it was.
He’d taken her hand, slipped it into the crook of his arm and said teasingly, “One of these days we’ll have to get you into a pair of jeans.”
His driver drove them to Wrigley Field. The ivy-covered stadium, one of the oldest in America, seemed to fascinate Amira. From there, Marcus directed his driver to the Shedd Aquarium, the Chicago Historical Society and the Lincoln Park Zoo where Amira was enchanted by the chimpanzees drawing on poster board with crayons.
Somehow throughout the morning, Marcus managed to keep himself from kissing Amira again, though it seemed to be constantly on his mind. He’d never felt this way—not even with Rhonda. Although they’d become engaged, he’d always been eager to get back to work, to hear about an exciting new investment opportunity. Today all he wanted was to be close to Amira, see her eyes come alive with the sights and her mouth break into that beautiful smile. Maybe he was so engrossed with her because he knew their time was limited.
They decided to have ice cream for lunch because they’d had a big breakfast. He discovered Amira’s favorite was mint chocolate chip, and as she licked it from the cone, she nearly drove him crazy.
Late in the afternoon he had his driver drop them off along the Magnificent Mile, the stretch of Michigan Avenue created for shoppers. They ended up at Tribune Tower, home of the Chicago Tribune. Hungry after that, for food as well as Amira, Marcus took her to a small French café where nobody would know him. Flickering candlelight made her eyes shine with her enjoyment of the day. The intimacy between them caused him to reach across the table and touch her hand more than once.
It was almost 10:00 p.m. when his driver dropped them off at a casual club he’d frequented a few times. It was so crowded they couldn’t find a table, and when he led her directly to the dance floor, they seemed to get bumped from every side. Besides that, the music was so loud, they couldn’t hear each other.
As the band finally took a break, he held her close and whispered in her ear, “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind. I want to talk to you, not shout at you. Would you like to see my penthouse?” He added quickly, “The housekeeper’s there so we’ll have a chaperone.”
Amira seemed to debate with herself, but then she smiled up at him. “I’d love to see it.”
At Marcus’s building, the doorman opened the door for them. The man started to say, “Good evening, Mr.—”
Marcus cut him off. “Good evening, Charlie. How’s your new grandson?”
“Three weeks old today and not a boy handsomer on this earth.”
Marcus laughed and guided Amira to the private elevator that led to the penthouse. As soon as they stepped inside, she noted, “I think you live like royalty.”
Her words surprised him. “Do you want to run that by me again?”
She listed the reasons why she thought so on her fingers one by one. “You eat in a private dining room. You have a driver. And you have a private elevator. Definitely earmarks of royalty.”
He saw that she was teasing him, and he laughed. “I guess some people would look at it that way. But I don’t have a dastardly twin ready to step into my shoes.” Amira had told him again the whole story about Broderick’s hostility toward King Morgan, and he still couldn’t get over the idea of someone switching babies with the royal twins. He supposed anything was possible, yet he knew in his gut he and Shane weren’t the twins the queen was searching for. They couldn’t be.
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Amira asked.
“I have a brother.” He wasn’t about to tell her Shane was a twin. “And he couldn’t be more unlike me. He’s in construction—a contractor.”
The elevator stopped at the top floor. Marcus was glad they’d arrived so he could put an end to the conversation. Family history wasn’t a safe subject. She might know more about Marcus Cordello than she’d revealed.
After Marcus unlocked the door to the penthouse, he let Amira precede him inside and tried to see his condo through her eyes. There was chrome and glass and black leather, two original contemporary paintings on the walls as well as a contemporary wall hanging.
Her gaze swept the large sunken living room, the open dining area with its glass-topped table and wrought-iron chandelier. “You’re not here much?” she asked perceptively.
“No, I’m not. It’s a stopover where I catch a few hours sleep. My office down the hall has a more lived-in
