the woman wasn’t reassuring him but the two boys. She’d moved round to the other side of the canoe and was inspecting them.
Alex joined her, relieved to see both kids breathing, albeit in rough gasps.
In the distance he heard a motor start. ‘Help’s on its way. That’s the tender from the yacht.’
She nodded, her attention fixed on the youngsters, and Alex found his gaze dwelling on her high-cut cheekbones, straight nose and plump bow of a mouth. Mermaids were supposed to be beautiful and this one didn’t disappoint.
Abruptly she turned her head, catching his stare. Alex felt their gazes mesh, a palpable connection, and wondered if it had been so long since he’d been with a pretty woman that his brain had turned to mush in the interim.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘It will be easier to transfer them from the other side. I’ll go round and help George if you can stay here and reassure them.’
‘Of course.’ Her voice had a lilt that tugged at something deep inside and told him English wasn’t her first language. He wondered how his name would sound on her lips.
Alex swam around the canoe. First her eyes, now her voice. Had it really been so long since he’d been with a woman?
He banished the thought as George cut the engine and the pair of them worked to get the kids aboard. Once more his golden-haired mermaid proved quietly efficient, easing their burden.
‘Here.’ He beckoned her over when the others were aboard the small boat. ‘I’ll give you a boost up.’
‘No need.’ She flashed him a smile and his pulse kicked hard.
Number three. First the eyes, then the voice. But that smile surpassed the rest. It turned his cool, capable, impervious mermaid into a beckoning sea sprite. That smile was pure mischief and again he felt that draw in his belly, hard and urgent.
Before Alex knew what she intended, or George could offer her a hand, she planted her hands on the side of the tender and pulled herself up smoothly and easily.
He was treated to a view of neat breasts against a saturated T-shirt, a slim waist, baggy shorts and long, shapely legs of pale gold.
Four. Alex clutched the boat, breathing hard. Despite the cool water, this time his response wasn’t belly-deep but lower, stirring his groin. He’d always had a weakness for great legs.
‘Want some help?’ She leaned out, ready to offer a hand, that smile dancing at the edge of her lips.
In that instant Alex knew if he was still the impulsive guy he’d once been, carefree and unencumbered by a crown, he’d have curled his hand around her neck and tugged her close. He’d have kissed her till she planted those small, capable hands on his chest and begged for more.
And he’d have given it.
‘I can manage.’ He hauled himself up.
It was as her eyes rounded that he remembered he’d dived naked into the sea. With the yacht’s crew on shore leave and only he and George aboard, he hadn’t bothered dressing when he woke.
Her gaze stayed low on his body a fraction too long, making his blood surge south in response.
Her eyes flashed to his. ‘I’m guessing you weren’t expecting company.’ Her lips twitched.
Five. Most women he met these days lacked a sense of humour. He missed that. In his old life he’d been part of a close-knit team where humour made a demanding job easier.
‘I was thinking about an early morning dip, but not like this.’ He was responding way too much to the glint of humour in her bright eyes and the husky edge to her voice.
He moved further into the small boat and stood. Alex was fully aware the movement laid his back and buttocks bare to her gaze—he’d swear he could feel the prickle of her regard right now. But it was better than presenting her with what could too easily turn into a promising erection.
He hunkered down at the side of the boat, motioning for George to start the motor. One of the kids had a gash on his temple and there was a first aid kit on the yacht. To his relief though, they seemed to be improving by the minute.
By the time the five of them were on the yacht Alex knew they’d be okay. He got the first aid kit then left it in George’s capable hands while he went below to dry off and dress.
Yet as he tugged on old jeans and a shirt, Alex could recall exactly how he’d felt when the mermaid’s gaze dropped to his chest, lingered a second and then kept moving to his abdomen and groin. The prickle under his skin was a prelude to something he could not afford to give in to.
The timing was all wrong.
So was the place. The person.
Imagine the complications if he followed his instincts and pursued an affair with her right here, offshore from the palace! Especially when there were so many people in both countries promoting a royal wedding.
Alex shuddered and zipped his jeans. Marriage was not on the agenda.
* * *
‘There’s Alex now,’ George said and Cat looked up. Alex, the owner of the beautiful vintage yacht, strolled towards them. His gait was loose-hipped and easy, shoulders back as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Definitely the walk of an assured man. One too sexy for his own good.
Fire spiked in her blood as she recalled his lazy, half-lidded expression when she’d seen him naked. The devastatingly attractive way the corners of his mouth curled up, the gleam in those indigo eyes.
She liked a confident man. One assured enough not to bolster his ego at the expense of others.
He was athletic too. That tall body was strong and taut and oh-so attractive, with powerful thighs and sinewy forearms and a classic male outline that tapered from wide shoulders. She had a sudden recollection of the bunch of his rounded, perfect glutes as he’d walked away. Cat forced her attention back to the bandage she was securing.
‘There, that should do.’
‘Good work, Cat.’ George, the yacht’s captain, closed the first aid kit.
‘Cat?’ The lazy drawl was like fingertips dancing down her spine. She told herself it was the breeze cooling her ancient T-shirt against her skin but she feared it was his luscious baritone.
‘Alex, this is Cat. Cat, Alex.’
‘Nice to meet you... Cat.’
She looked up to read curiosity crinkling his broad brow. A flare of his nostrils brought that chiselled, patrician nose to life and his dark blue eyes narrowed as he surveyed her.
Was that tension in the pulse flicking beneath his squared jaw? No, she’d imagined it. His body language spoke of easy confidence. And a bone-deep, almost indolent sex appeal that played havoc with her hormones.
‘Nice to meet you, Alex.’ She kept her voice blank. The fact he’d obviously towel-dried his black hair and not
