Happily might be overselling it, but she was rightfully divorced, that was for sure. “I just celebrated my four-year anniversary of unwedded bliss.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And you still believe in marriage?”
“Yes. But the fact that my marriage didn’t work helps with what I’m doing. I understand what breaks things down. And I understand how to build a solid foundation. You’ve heard of the wise man who built his house on the rock, I assume?”
“It’s buried somewhere in the ether of my debauched mind. Memories of childhood Sunday school lurk there somewhere.” Oh, he did that charming, naughty smile far too well. It was no wonder he had a reputation as the kind of man who could meet a woman and have her taking her clothes off for him five minutes later.
She found her own hand wandering to the top button of her dress and she dropped it quickly, taking another defensive step back. He answered that move by taking three steps forward.
She cleared her throat. “Excellent, well, I’m helping you build a marriage on a rock, rather than sand.”
His eyebrows lifted, one side of his mouth quirking into a smile. He took another two steps toward her. “Different than a marriage on the rocks?”
She stepped back. “Much.”
“Well, that is good to know,” he said.
“You and I will work together to create a strong partnership, for you and your country,” she said, with all the confidence she could pull out of her gut. Confidence she didn’t really feel.
He closed the distance between them and she took another step in the opposite direction, her back connecting with the wall. She forced a smile, and a step toward him.
He held his hand out, so large and tan and masculine. She just stared at it for a moment, trying to remember what one was supposed to do when they were offered a hand.
Her brain jolted into gear and she stuck her hand out. He gripped it, heat engulfing her as his fingers made contact with her bare skin. She wished now that she’d worn her little white gloves with the pearls. She’d thought them a bit quirky for a business meeting, but the shield against his touch would have been nice.
She just hadn’t realized. Sure, she’d seen his picture, but a picture didn’t do justice to the man. He was broad, nearly a foot taller than her, and he smelled like heaven. Like clean skin laced with a trace of sandalwood.
He made her feel small and feminine. And like she was losing her mind.
She shook his hand once, then dropped her own back to her side, hiding it behind a fold in her full skirt as she clenched it into a fist, willing the burning sensation to ease.
“I’ll hold you to it, Ms. Carter. And I warn you, I can be a tough taskmaster.”
Her breath caught. “I’m … I can handle you.”
He chuckled, low and dark, like rich coffee. “We’ll see.”
“ARE you finding the accommodations to your satisfaction, Ms. Carter?”
Jessica whirled around, her heart thudding against her breastbone. Stavros was standing in the hallway of her hotel, a small smile on his face. “I … Yes, very. I didn’t expect to see you here. Today. Or ever.”
He looked around them, as though checking to see if he was in the right place. “This is one of my hotels.”
“Yes, I know, but I assumed …”
“You assumed that I had no real part in the running of my hotels, casinos, et cetera. But I do. In another life I might have been a businessman.” His tone took on a strange, hard tinge. “As it is, I divide my time between being a prince and running a corporation. Both are equally important.”
She tried to smile and took a step back. “So, to borrow a phrase … of all the hotels you own, on all the island, you walk into mine?”
His sensual lips curved upward. It was hard to call it a smile. “Oh, this was calculated, but I also had a business reason for coming by.”
Her stomach fluttered. Down, girl. What was wrong with her? A man hadn’t made a blip on her personal radar for a long, long time. And Stavros was a client.
Anyway, she wasn’t quite through licking her wounds.
The loss of her five-year marriage, and the circumstances surrounding it, had left her feeling far too bruised to jump back into dating. Which had been fine. She’d left her job, poured everything into starting her own company and perfecting her system of matchmaking.
Those who can’t do, teach, those who can’t find a match, match others.
That wasn’t true. She could find a match. Had found one, back when she’d believed in falling in love accidentally with the aid of some sort of magic that might make it stick. As if it were so simple.
And then life had taken her dreams, her hopes, her beliefs and feelings, and it had jumbled them all together until the wreckage was impossible to sift through.
Until it had been much easier to simply walk out of the room and close the door on the mess, than to try and find some sort of order again.
But her ex-husband had no business wiggling into her thoughts. Not now. Not ever, really. That was over. She’d changed.
Her job had always seemed important. At first, being a matchmaker had been all about indulging her romantic streak. She’d been in love with love. With the mystical quality she’d imagined it possessed.
She knew differently now. Knew that relationships were about more than a flutter in your stomach. Now her job seemed essential in new ways. To prove to herself that it could still be real. That people could get married and stay married.
It was almost funny. She created successful relationships, successful marriages. And she went to bed alone every night and tried not to dwell on her broken one.
She’d had mixed success with that. But she’d had phenomenal success with her business. And that was what she chose to focus on.
“All right, what was your reason?” she asked, taking another step back.
“First off, I had to speak to my manager about handling all of the incoming guests for Mak and Eva’s wedding. One of my gifts to them. Putting Mak’s family up in the hotel. He could do it himself, and he’s argued with me about it no end, but I’m insistent.”
“And you do get your way, don’t you?” she asked. She had a feeling he never heard the word no. That if a command was issued from his royal lips everyone in the vicinity hopped to obey him. It wasn’t that he had the manner of a tyrant, but that he had such a presence, a charisma about him. People would do whatever it took to be in his sphere. To get a look from him, a smile.
He was dangerous.
“Always.” The liquid heat in his eyes poured into her, his husky
