leaned a little closer and nudged her shoulder. ‘You’re sitting on my favourite bar stool.’
‘Didn’t have your name on it,’ she quipped back.
Her accent. It was unmistakeable. The Scottish twang made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He could listen to that all day. Or all night.
She swung her legs around towards him and leaned one arm on the bar. ‘Come to think of it, you must be kind of brave.’ She took a sip of her wine. Her eyebrows lifted again. ‘Or kind of stupid.’
He liked it. She was flirting back. He leaned his arm on the bar too, so they were closer than ever. ‘What makes you think that?’
She licked her lips. ‘Because you’re trying to get between a Scots girl and the bar.’ She smiled as she ran her eyes up and down the length of his body. It was almost as if she’d reached her fingers out and touched him. ‘Haven’t you heard about Scots girls?’
He smiled and leaned closer. ‘I think I might need a little education.’ He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.
Instant attraction. He’d never really experienced it before. Not like this. He’d wanted to come in here to hide and get away from things. Now, his sanctuary had become a whole lot more exciting.
A whole lot more distracting.
His stomach flipped over. What if he never felt like this again? Or even worse, what if he felt like this when he was King of Montanari and married?
Right now he was none of those things. The engagement hadn’t been announced. He was about to step into a life of duty and constant scrutiny.
Theresa was a friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. They’d never even shared a kiss.
He hadn’t come here to meet anyone. He hadn’t come here to be attracted to someone.
But right now he was caught in a gaze he didn’t want to escape from. The pull was just too strong.
Something flitted across her eyes. It was as if her confidence wavered for a second.
‘What’s wrong?’ He couldn’t help himself.
She sucked in a breath. ‘Bad day at the office.’
‘Anything to do with a man?’ It was out before he thought.
She blinked and gave a little smile again, pausing for a second. ‘No. Definitely nothing to do with a man.’
It was as if he’d just laid himself bare. Finding out the lie of the land. He couldn’t ignore the warm feeling that spread straight through him.
He had no royal duties this weekend. There were no hands he needed to shake. No business he needed to attend to. He’d told Security he was coming here and to keep their distance.
If he lived to be a hundred he’d remember this. He’d remember this meeting and the way it made him feel. The buzz was so strong the air practically sparkled around her.
He was still single. He could do this. Right now he would cross burning coals to see what would happen next.
He leaned even closer. ‘I came here to get some peace and quiet. I came here to get some head space.’ He gave her a little smile and lowered his voice. ‘But, all of a sudden, there’s no space in my head at all.’
He took a chance. ‘How about I stop searching for some peace and quiet, and you forget all about your bad day?’
She ran her fingers up the stem of her wine glass. He could tell she was thinking. She looked up from beneath heavy eyelids. ‘You mean, like a distraction. An interlude?’
The warm glow in his body started to rapidly rise. He nodded. ‘A distraction.’
She licked her lips again and he almost groaned out loud. ‘I think a distraction might be just what I need,’ she said carefully.
He tried to quieten the cheerleader squad currently yelling in his head.
‘I’ve always wanted to meet a Scots girl. Will you teach me how to wear a kilt?’ He waved to the barman. ‘There are some killer cocktails in here. You look like a Lavender Fizz kind of girl.’
‘I’ll do better than that.’ There was a hint of mischief in her voice. ‘I’ll teach you how to take it off.’
* * *
This wasn’t her life. It couldn’t be. Things like this didn’t happen to Sienna McDonald. But it seemed that in the blink of an eye her miserable, lousy day had just got a whole lot better.
It was the worst kind of day. The kind of day she should have got used to in this line of work.
But a doctor who got used to a baby dying was in the wrong profession.
It had been little Marco’s third op. He’d been failing all the time, born into the world too early with undeveloped lungs and a malformed heart; she’d known the odds were stacked against him.
Some people thought it was wrong to operate on premature babies unless there was a guarantee of a good outcome. But Sienna had seen babies who had next to no chance come through an operation, fight like a seasoned soldier and go on to thrive. One of her greatest successes was coming up on his fourth birthday and she couldn’t be prouder.
Today had been draining. Telling the parents had been soul-destroying. She didn’t usually drown her sorrows in alcohol, but tonight, in a strange country with only herself for company, it was the only thing that would do. She’d already made short work of the accompanying chocolate she’d bought to go with the wine. The empty wrappers were littered around her.
She sensed him as soon as he sat down next to her. There was a gentle waft of masculine cologne. Her eyes were lowered. It was easy to see the muscled thigh through the probably designer trousers. If he was staying in this hotel—he was probably a millionaire. She was just lucky the royal family were footing her bill.
When he spoke, his lilting Mediterranean accent washed over her. Thank goodness she was sitting down. There was something about the accent of the men of Montanari. It crossed between the Italian, French and Spanish of its surrounding neighbours. It was unmistakeable. Unique. And something she’d never forget.
She glanced sideways and once more sucked in her cheeks.
Nope. The guy who looked as if he’d just walked off some film set was still there. Any second now she’d have to pinch herself. This might actually be real.
Dark hair, killer green eyes with a little sparkle and perfect white teeth. She might not have X-ray vision but his lean and athletic build was clear beneath the perfectly tailored suit. If she were back in Scotland she’d tell him he might as well have sex on legs tattooed on his forehead. Too bad she was in a posh kingdom where she had to be a whole lot more polite than that.
He hadn’t responded to her cheeky comment. For a millisecond he looked a little stunned, and then his shoulders relaxed a little and he nodded slowly. He was getting comfortable. Did he think the game was over?
She was just settling in for the ride. She didn’t do this.
