I’ve already arranged things,” she said firmly, attempting to regain control of the situation. “There is no need for you to put yourself out, Mr. Jackson.”
He reached for her again, put his hands on either side of her shoulders and bent until his gorgeous eyes were on a level with hers. Her heart flipped. “Arrangements can be changed, Anna. And you really need to call me Leo.”
She darted her tongue over her lower lip. “I’d prefer to keep this professional, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind,” he said, his eyes darkening.
Anna tried not to let the warm, spicy scent of him wrap around her senses. But he was too close, and he smelled so good, and her stomach was knotting with tension at his proximity. He confused her. She ached in ways she never had before, and she wanted things she’d once looked upon with quiet acceptance. She’d expected to be intimate with Alex, of course. She hadn’t expected to find out she wanted that intimacy with a kind of earthy sensuality that was completely foreign to her nature.
But not with Alex.
With this man. With Leo.
“Keep looking at me that way, and we won’t go anywhere,” he murmured, his voice a lovely growl in his throat. She imagined him growling against her skin, his body twining intimately with hers, and swallowed hard.
It was shocking to be thinking these thoughts. And so very, very titillating.
She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t stupid. She was modern enough to have read a few books on sex. She’d even managed to watch a video, the memory of which had her heart hurtling forward. The way the man had put his head between the woman’s legs and—
“Anna,” Leo groaned. “Stop.”
Anna shook herself. What was wrong with her? Baiting a lion in his den? Was she insane?
“Really, I have no idea what you’re talking about Mr.—Leo. You have a very dirty mind.”
His sharp bark of laughter was not quite what she expected. He let her go abruptly, and her skin tingled through her clothes where he’d so recently touched her. “I think if this tour stands a chance of getting off the ground, I’d better change.”
“That would be wise,” she said primly.
She stood in the foyer, uncertain whether to follow or stay where she was. In the end, she decided to stay. She could hear him moving around, hear a soft curse as a door opened and shut again. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, blushed anew at her heightened color. Leo Jackson brought out the worst in her.
She was just beginning to worry about how long she’d been standing there when he reappeared. A jolt of surprise went through her at the sight of him. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but his casual attire had not quite been it.
He wore a long-sleeved navy shirt, unbuttoned midchest, with a white T-shirt beneath. Half the shirt was tucked into faded, ripped jeans. The other half hung free in a kind of casual slouch that proclaimed this man didn’t care about rules.
But the truth was that he looked utterly gorgeous. The height of Bohemian fashion, while she stood there in her prim suit and felt frumpy. Stuffy. Oh, the suit was expensive, but it was staid. Safe and boring. A generation too old for her, perhaps. The stylist had tried to get her to go with a shorter hem, a nipped-in waist, but she’d refused.
She was regretting it at the moment.
“Ready, my love?” he asked, and her heart skipped a beat.
“Only if you stop calling me names,” she said, her jaw aching with the effort it took to be polite as she forced the words out.
He grinned, and her heart melted. Damn it. Damn him.
“I can try, sweet Anna.”
Somehow, that was even worse.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS a glorious morning in Santina. The sun was shining brightly in the sky and the turquoise water of the Mediterranean sparkled like diamonds beneath it. Anna buckled her seat belt and tried to calm the racing of her heart as their plane began to taxi toward the runway.
Leo was flying. She hadn’t quite expected that. When he’d said they would take his plane, she’d assumed he had a flight crew. Which he did, but he’d given them the day off to see the sights.
“Don’t you need help?” she’d asked.
“It’s a small plane,” he’d replied. “Certified for one pilot. I left the 737 at home this time.”
“It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a short trip.”
He smiled at her, and her heart turned over. “Relax, Anna. They wouldn’t let me take off if I wasn’t licensed.”
She had to admit that he’d done a thorough check of the plane before they’d gone anywhere. He’d spent time looking at the instruments, walking around the craft, going over a checklist. Finally, when he’d deemed everything to be okay, he’d communicated with the tower.
And now they were turning onto the runway, the plane braking only momentarily while Leo said something else to the tower. Someone gave him the go-ahead, and then the plane was shooting down the runway. Anna bit her lip to stifle the laughter that wanted to break free at that very moment.
She loved everything about taking off. The charge down the runway, the plane lifting into the air, the ground falling away and her stomach going with it. She loved the way they soared into the sky with the landscape below getting smaller and smaller. She could see the rocky outcrop on which the palace was built, the faded terra-cotta roofs of the city, the glint of sunlight on glass and metal.
She slumped into her seat, a strange sense of relief pouring over her. She was leaving it all behind. She was free, at least for the next few hours, and her heart felt suddenly light.
She turned to look out Leo’s side and caught him glancing at her. Her stomach flipped.
“Happy?” he asked, and she wondered how he knew. She hadn’t given it away. She hadn’t laughed, or smiled, or reacted at all. She knew because she’d practiced it for so many years. It was essential, as a queen, to be tranquil. To hide your feelings behind a mask of cool efficiency. She was good at it.
Usually.
“I don’t, um, feel happy or sad,” she said, stumbling in the middle and hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Liar,” he shot at her. But he grinned when he said it, and a current of warmth washed over her. “I’ve an idea, sweet Anna.”
She pointedly ignored his use of her name and the epithet he’d attached to it. “What is this idea?”
The hot, intense look he gave her had the power to melt her insides. He looked at her like he owned her, and it made little sparks fly around inside her like a racquetball bouncing off the walls of the court.
“Let’s fly to Sicily. We can spend the day there, eating pasta, viewing the volcano—” one eyebrow
