I’m to assume you’re looking for adventure?”
“And a job.”
“We have the job covered. So what type of adventure are you looking for, aside from your career?”
The question hung in the air for a time until she finally said, “I’m not sure. Do you have any suggestions?”
The dark look he sent her said he probably had plenty. “Unfortunately, Doriana is a rather sedate place in July. But if you’re here during the winter season, you could take advantage of our ski resorts. We have some challenging slopes, if you’re not afraid to attempt something that could be deemed dangerous.”
Now why had that sounded like an invitation to sin? “I’ve never tried skiing, but it sounds like fun.”
“I wouldn’t object to teaching you as repayment for what you taught me. I doubt I would have passed biology had it not been for you.”
She certainly wouldn’t object to anything he wanted to teach her. “Are you good?” Great, Kate. “At skiing, I mean.”
His eyes seemed to grow even darker, effectively dispensing the last of Kate’s calm. “Yes.”
“I imagine you’re probably very good at everything you do.” Imagined it in great detail, she did. “Aside from biology, that is.”
“I would imagine the same applies to you, Kate, considering how well you handled me during that first year.” She made a shaky one-handed sweep through her hair. “Funny, I don’t remember handling you at all.”
He assumed an almost insolent posture, his gaze now centered on her lap where she ran her fingertips up and down her purse strap. “Well, if you had literally handled me, I would not have forgotten, I assure you.”
If he only knew how many times she’d imagined “handling” him in her wildest fantasies. How many times she had imagined this moment when they were again face-to-face. How strongly she was reacting to him on a very primal level.
Following a brief span of tense silence, reality finally drilled its way into Kate’s psyche. She could not let him get to her again. Not this time. All those years ago, she had fallen hopelessly in love with him, knowing he could never feel the same—a mistake she didn’t dare repeat.
But that was then, and this was now. She had matured beyond the point of having puppy-love crushes on unattainable men. She had only fond feelings for Marc DeLoria.
Okay, maybe fond wasn’t a good assessment. She was unequivocally ready to jump his aristocratic bones. But she wouldn’t.
Marc DeLoria was a dynamic king, a magnetic man. And from all news accounts, he was also a rounder, a rogue and one of the world’s most notorious playboys. She needed to remember that—even if she was still seriously attracted to him, whether she wanted to be or not.
Kate tried to appear nonchalant when her overheated body was anything but unfazed by his continued perusal. “Anything else you need to know about me?”
“There is something I would like to do with you, if you’re not too tired from your trip.”
Her heart rate did double time. “What would that be?”
“Show you the hospital, as soon as I change into something more appropriate.”
Darn. For a split second, Kate had hoped he was going to propose something more exciting. “I would really like to see the facilities.”
“And I see no reason why the position could not be yours if you so choose.”
She frowned. “Just like that?”
He rubbed a hand along his shaded jaw. “Frankly, you’ve already been highly recommended by the hospital’s administrator. Our meeting is only a formality.”
“I’ll definitely consider your offer,” she said. “But first I’d like to take a look around and make sure it’s the right place for me.”
“Speaking of that, do you have a place to stay?”
“I have a room at the St. Simone Inn.”
“You should stay at the palace as our guest. You would be much more comfortable here.”
No, she wouldn’t. Not with him occupying the same castle, even if it did have a hundred rooms, which she suspected it did. “I appreciate your hospitality, but I would prefer the inn.”
“Please let me know if you change your mind.” His voice had the appeal of hot buttered rum, rich and warm going down.
“I sure will.” Her voice sounded a little too down-home with a too-high pitch.
After a brief knock, a stout, gray-haired woman breezed into the room with a tray of tea and cookies. She kept her eyes averted as she served Kate first.
Marc declined the tea, but after the woman retreated, he took one of the treats and held it to her lips. “Try the rollitos. They’re Spanish cookies, one of my two favorite indulgences.”
She wasn’t sure she could swallow. “Really? What would the other be?”
Marc’s smile arrived slowly but it quickly impacted Kate’s control at the first sign of his deep dimples. “A person should be allowed to have a few secrets, Kate. Even a king.”
Kate bit into the cookie but she didn’t taste a thing. Considering Marc’s overt sensuality, she suspected he had a lot of secrets. She also suspected his other favorite indulgence had nothing to do with food and everything to do with his desires as a man. A man who was much too tempting for his own good. For Kate’s own good.
Since his days at Harvard, Marcel DeLoria had spent almost eight years seeing the world and its wonders. For the past nine months, he had seen what it was like to have every molecule of his character examined as if he’d been placed under a high-powered microscope, not on the proverbial throne. But in all his experiences, he had never seen anything quite as surprising as the woman sitting across from him in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce.
Years before, he’d known her as a shy, intelligent student who had hidden behind too-big clothing and owl-like glasses, not the confident, stylish woman she had become. He admired her self-assurance as much as her physical conversion. And he definitely needed to quit admiring her altogether lest she catch him in the act.
As they continued through St. Simone en route to the hospital, Marc turned his attention to the quaint, colorful shops lining the cobblestoned streets. Streets practically void of automobile traffic, yet heavy with tourists and locals who had stopped to watch the motorcade pass. Would he ever grow accustomed to such spectacle? Probably not.
At times, he longed to walk among the villagers as an ordinary man, stop by the bakery and pick up his second-favorite indulgence—in terms of food—éclairs. At times, he craved putting on his old college sweatshirt and jeans to join in a game of rugby with the local team. At times, he wished he had never been born into royalty.
“This town is incredible, Your Highness.”
The
