the maid wanted to clean her room, she slid from the bed, pushed her hair from her eyes and grabbed her robe on the bedside chair. Slipping on the pink-and-green, flowered-satin garment, she quickly belted it.
When she looked out the peephole of the door, she blinked twice. It was Brent! With a room service table.
Opening the door, she couldn’t keep from smiling or hide the breathlessness in her voice. “This is a surprise.”
His grin was crooked and boyish. “It’s a strategic move on my part to make sure you eat more than two crackers and tea. I don’t want you fainting into another man’s arms.”
She knew he was teasing, but there was a serious glint in his green eyes, too. She was about to invite him in when she realized she was wearing her nightgown and robe. “Oh, I can’t. I mean—”
Ignoring her reticence, he pushed the table inside. “You don’t even have to tip me,” he went on as if she hadn’t interrupted.
Thoroughly flustered, unable to take her gaze from his broad shoulders, collarless blue shirt and his long jeans-clad legs, she stammered, “I…I have to dress.”
Rolling the table to the sitting area, he set the covered platters on the coffee table. “You look fetching as you are. You don’t have time to dress. The eggs and bacon will get cold, and don’t tell me you don’t eat bacon and eggs, because your figure doesn’t need watching.”
His appraising gaze raked over her, and she blushed to her toes.
With a chuckle he caught her hand and tugged her to the love seat. “Come on. I know you’re a proper lady. I won’t do anything improper. I promise.”
His smile was so beguiling, his manner so offhandedly friendly, she couldn’t resist. Missing her family and friends, she felt alone in a foreign land and she enjoyed Brent’s company. More than enjoyed it.
Uncovering both their platters, he set the lids aside and settled his gaze on her. For a few moments he simply studied her with such intensity that she couldn’t look away.
Finally he admitted, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
His honest admission mandated she be just as honest. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either.”
He reached up to touch her then, to brush her tousled waves away from her face…
The phone rang.
The sound was a startling intrusion to the beginning of an intimate moment, and Amira really didn’t know if she was relieved or perturbed.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, and went over to the desk under the window to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Amira.”
“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Amira knew the queen’s voice as well as she knew her own mother’s.
“I hope I’m not calling too early. I forget about the time difference.”
Glancing over at Brent, Amira noticed his surprised expression. Maybe he hadn’t really believed she had connections to a royal family. “No, it’s not too early. In fact, other mornings I was sitting in Marcus Cordello’s reception area by now.”
“How’s that coming, my dear? Did you manage to meet with him?”
There was no point in beating around the bush. “I would have called you immediately if I had. I’m having a bit of a problem getting to see him. He’s very…elusive and protected. I’ve been camping on his doorstep, but have only seen his staff going in and out. His secretary has informed me he’ll be out of the office in meetings the rest of the week and away next week. So I’m afraid this might take longer than we planned.”
There was a slight pause. “I see. Well, I know you’re doing your best. Cole Everson is working on getting a few more details for you, including a picture of the man. That might help you spot him.”
Cole Everson was head of the Royal Intelligence, and Amira knew Queen Marissa counted on him.
“What will you be doing today, Amira? Meeting with Marcus Cordello is important, but you need some time for yourself, too. Have you seen any of the city?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“It must be very lonely for you in Chicago. Do you want me to find a guide for you?”
Again Amira looked over at Brent. The queen was being so nice, and Amira suddenly felt as if she was doing something very wrong. There was a man in her room whom she hardly knew. She was in her robe. They’d been about to…
Suddenly she wished she weren’t on a mission for the queen, and that she hadn’t been raised quite so properly.
Marcus had begun thinking of himself as Brent Carpenter as soon as he’d rapped on Amira’s door. He hadn’t slept much last night, between thinking about her and dreaming about her, though fantasizing was probably the better term. The thing was—he felt more than a physical attraction to her. There was something about her that simply fascinated him. Along with rearranging his schedule and canceling today’s appointments, he’d called a friend who was an expert at gathering information and asked him to check Amira’s background. Now, listening to her phone conversation, he decided she must really be a lady in contact with the queen. This performance couldn’t have been put on for his benefit, because she hadn’t known he was coming.
He didn’t need a dossier to know she was who she said she was and she was looking for him. He should leave right now…forget about breakfast, forget about spending the day with her. It would be safer never to see her again…to never let her meet Marcus Cordello. He didn’t want his life disrupted again.
It had been disrupted when he and Shane were children and his parents divorced. The divorce had been bitter, and his mother had taken Shane to California while Marcus had stayed in Illinois with his father. They had just settled into that routine, seeing his brother one month every summer, when Marcus’s life was turned upside down again because his father remarried. In a way, that was even more disruptive than the divorce because his stepmother insisted Marcus be sent to boarding school. She didn’t want to be bothered with him. He’d weathered all of that and weathered it well, turning his interest to the financial markets, researching corporations and how they ran, beginning to invest any money he earned.
Then two years ago, when he’d thought his life was on track, when he’d already become wealthier than he ever dreamed, he lost his fiancée to diabetes. Rhonda had kept her condition from him, and he’d had no idea she was dealing with it. Since she’d died, he’d done nothing but work nineteen or twenty hours a day. He’d cut off all social contact and let his staff deal with the outside world.
But last night Amira had crashed through all the protective layers he’d built around himself, and he wanted to spend more time with her.
He saw her glance at him and also saw the guilty flush that colored her cheeks. He might have to do some fast talking to get her to spend the day with him.
When she hung up, she looked pensive.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“The
