the effects—I’m sorry for wearing you out at tennis.’
‘You didn’t,’ she said promptly. ‘All I need is a good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll be back well before midnight. When you want to eat, use the telephone to call the restaurant and order a meal.’
Serina was relieved when he left, although the big penthouse seemed to echo emptily without his vibrant presence. After she’d eaten an excellent meal, she explored the bookshelves in a room that combined the functions of a library and media area, strangely delighted to find several well-read books she’d enjoyed too. But she couldn’t settle and although she was tired enough to feel drowsy it took her a long time to get to sleep.
In fact, she didn’t manage it until she heard sounds that indicated Alex had returned.
When she woke, a glance at her watch revealed she’d slept only four hours. City noises floated up to the penthouse—traffic, the distant clamour of a siren, a squeal of brakes from the street below…
Just like all other cities, she thought wearily. And, to take her mind off wondering whether Alex had really intended to kiss her, she tried to imagine what she’d hear in the countryside where he lived.
It was a lost cause. Her wilful memory kept returning to those electrifying moments when he’d touched her mouth. Dreamily, she recalled the look on his face, the charged intensity about him that had awakened her equal untrammelled response.
He had wanted to kiss her.
So why had he pulled back? He was experienced; she knew of at least two long-term affairs he’d had. Surely he’d read the signals clearly enough to know she wouldn’t slap his face and storm out of the room?
Perhaps he’d decided it was too soon. Which was amazingly considerate of him…
And quite correct. However, there were four weeks ahead for them both to find out more about each other.
Smiling languorously, she turned over, closed her eyes and slid into sleep, waking to a morning as crisp and welcoming as a summer’s day. After showering and pulling on a pair of well-cut trousers and a paler blue silk shirt that intensified the colour of her eyes, she opened the curtains and gazed out at a radiant sky beaming over the city, the harbour glinting in the sunlight and dotted with islands that danced clear and bright in the vivid sea.
On the terrace outside her bedroom window flowers bloomed in a small garden; Serina opened the door that led out onto it and on a little exclamation of surprise and pleasure bent to smell one particular potted rose, sinfully crimson with a heart as darkly potent as forbidden love.
‘A rose for a rose.’
Alex’s voice brought her upright so suddenly her head swam.
‘Are you all right?’A second later, his hands clamped around her upper arms, ‘Is there something I should know about? This must be the second or third time you’ve stumbled.’
Shamefully, Serina would have liked nothing more than to rest her head on that broad chest and stay there, but an instinctive self-protection made her stiffen. ‘I didn’t stumble—I just missed a step each time. And I’m fine, thank you. I just straightened up too quickly.’
Alex looked down at her, a faint smile curving his mouth. For a moment Serina thought her heart stood still.
Hastily, so conscious of his hands on her skin that her thoughts dissolved under a heady burst of sensation, she finished, ‘And probably a bit drunk on that gorgeous perfume. Do you know what the rose is called?’
‘No, but I can find out.’ He sounded abstracted, but he stepped back and when she risked an upwards glance she saw his eyes narrow, become intent and smoky. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, thank you. How…how did the charity function go?’
‘Very well.’
Meaningless stuff, she thought, caught in a bubble of stillness. She was babbling, and he—he wasn’t concentrating on her words…
A chasm opened up in front of her. If she jumped, it would be into the unknown. She might crash—or she might find some unexplored place ablaze with possibility. Whatever, she’d never be the same again.
Much safer to stay where she was, step back, smile at him, go on talking meaningless platitudes—and leave New Zealand after four weeks, the same person she’d always been.
A coward.
Her heart began to race. Banishing fear, she lifted a hand to touch his cheek.
His smile became set, his gaze piercing. ‘Sure, Princess?’
‘My name is Serina,’ she said, holding his eyes.
She wanted him to kiss the woman she was, not the public persona—serene princess, daughter of a long line of monarchs, scion of a defunct throne.
Serina read comprehension in his eyes, and knew that for some reason he didn’t want to make the small surrender. She didn’t even know why it was so important to her.
Tension sparked the silence between them, turning it heavy with desire.
‘Do you know what you’re asking for?’ he said, a raw note altering the timbre of his voice and sending little shudders down her spine.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I know. But what do you want?’
Something flickered in the burnished blue of his eyes and brought a half-mocking smile to that wicked mouth, with its narrow top lip buttressed by a sensuous lower one. ‘A kiss,’ he said. ‘And I’m not asking, Serina—I’m taking what you’ve been silently promising me since we danced together at the wedding.’
He drew her towards him. She put a hand on his chest, looking up into an intense chiselled face. On a thrill that was half fear, half voluptuous anticipation, she thought he looked like a hunter.
Buoyed by a sudden, rather shameless relief, she nodded. Yet when he made no move she was assailed by shyness. Hot and embarrassing, colour stole along her cheekbones, but she met his eyes without wavering.
Although his eyes were still fiercely predatory, his voice became gentler. ‘All right?’
‘Yes.’
And when he bent his head and claimed her mouth with his own she yielded, leaning into him as he gathered her against him. White-hot sensations swamped her in a rush of adrenalin—his hard male contours, the taste of him, the faint barely-there fragrance that was his alone.
Her knees buckled and he tightened his grip, bringing her even closer to his powerful, fully aroused body.
Alex lifted his head and looked down into eyes that were slumbrous, almost dazed with passion, their violet-blue depths mysteriously dark. Gritting his teeth against a hungry surge of triumph, he fought back the primitive impulse to carry her across to the lounger a few metres away and take her then and there.
It was too soon, too public, and she deserved better than a hasty, violent consummation.
But
