style="font-size:15px;"> It was painfully obvious to Grace what the salesgirl would really love to show Maksim. For no good reason she felt herself get tight and tense all over. She turned away, used to feeling invisible. In her job, on the street, living alone in a foreign country…invisible. Alone.
Then she felt a strong masculine hand on her shoulder.
“You will start by getting my beautiful friend a replacement of the lingerie she bought,” Maksim said to the salesgirl. He looked down at Grace. “Then—you will get her anything else she desires in the store.”
“Yes, of course, Your Highness,” the salesgirl gasped, her mouth a round O as she looked at Grace with new respect.
His steel-gray eyes and the touch of his hand caused a flash of heat to spread through her body.
“I splashed you with my car,” he said. “It was an unforgivable rudeness. The least I can do is buy you new clothes. A new coat.”
Grace stared at him, warmth cascading all over her. A moment before, she’d felt so invisible and cold, but with one touch he made her feel alive. With one word he’d made her feel she had value in the world.
“Anything you want, Grace,” he said softly, stroking her cheek. “Anything at all. It will be my deepest honor to provide.”
A shudder of longing went through her. Her face turned involuntarily toward his touch, and his hand cupped her cheek. She tried to pull away from him, but her feet weren’t working properly. Neither was the rest of her.
Except for her breasts which started to ache, sending sizzles of longing down to her deepest core.
And at that moment Grace started to realize how dangerous the dark prince truly was.
She licked her lips. “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly accept.”
His hand traced lightly down her neck to her shoulder, to her coat. “Why do you hide in these clothes, Grace? Why are you afraid to show the world your beauty?”
He really thought she was pretty? It hadn’t just been flattery? Her mind was spinning a million directions at once, and as long as he kept touching her she couldn’t think straight. “I—”
“This would look lovely on you.”
He touched a lovely pink nightgown displayed on a white headless mannequin. The silk and lace were the blush color of a spring rose, and while the low-cut neckline was covered in lace, the rest of the fabric went elegantly to the floor.
Grace, who normally slept in T-shirts and flannel pants, couldn’t imagine sleeping in anything so sybaritic and luxurious.
Against her will, her eyes traced the shape of Maksim’s muscular fingers against the delicate silk. She had the sudden image of what it might feel like to be in that nightgown with his hands on her. To be touched and caressed and stroked through the silk by his strong, powerful touch.
Grace fiercely shook the evocative image out of her mind.
What was wrong with her? She was growing as headless as the mannequin! No man had ever seen her in nightwear. Not even in her flannel pajamas. And it was likely to remain so!
“I’m not in the habit of letting strangers buy me nightgowns,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and forcibly turning her back on the lovely pink silk.
“No lingerie, then,” he said, sounding amused. “In that case, a coat. This one?”
“A coat?” She turned around, tempted. In spite of the cashmere blanket and warmth of his car, she was still shivering from the melted sleet and slush seeping through her old camel-colored coat. Having never owned a proper coat in California, she’d bought this one at a charity shop in London. It had seemed serviceable enough, and the price had been right. But it didn’t hold up very well to rain, and was terribly ugly in the bargain, though Grace tried not to care.
“My car splashed your coat. It’s ruined,” he pointed out. “Surely even your overheightened sense of honor would allow me to replace it as a matter of course.”
He touched a truly beautiful ankle-length black shearling coat with a wide collar. It was a dazzling sight, fit for a princess. She’d admired the coat when she’d first come into the shop a few hours ago. But she’d only admired it from a distance—she hadn’t been nearly brave enough to actually touch it. Particularly after her eye had fallen on the price tag. Ten thousand pounds. In dollars, that equaled—
A new car.
She closed her eyes, suppressing her desire.
“And you must have this, as well.” He pointed at an exquisite silk cocktail dress. “The color matches your eyes.”
She looked at it hungrily. The dress was beautiful—something out of the fashion magazines she saw on newsstands. She reached out to touch the silk, then at the last moment hesitated and took the price tag instead. Four thousand pounds.
What was she thinking? She couldn’t allow her boss’s rival to buy her even a cocktail, let alone a cocktail dress!
Clothes like these were for glamorous, beautiful heiresses like Lady Francesca. Not for broke, plain girls like her. She’d bought her boots at a discount warehouse. Her shirt had cost less than ten dollars at Wal-Mart, and she’d bought her skirt suit used at a consignment shop in Los Angeles. For the past five years, since her father had died, she’d scrimped everywhere she could to help her family.
A lump rose in her throat. But it still hadn’t been enough. She never should have left her mother alone….
“Let me do this small thing for you,” Maksim said decisively. “You cannot refuse me this pleasure.”
And she almost couldn’t. She almost didn’t want to refuse him any pleasure.
But she couldn’t accept. She didn’t trust him. And as much as she wanted these beautiful luxuries, she knew they weren’t for her. Nothing in the Leighton boutique related to real life!
“And just where do you think I would wear that dress?” she retorted, raising her chin so he wouldn’t know how tempted her weak soul had been. “To the grocery store? The post office?”
His lips curved into a smile. “I can think of a few places you could wear it. And not wear it.”
Immediately a shiver of longing went through her body at his sensual smile. Why was he acting like this, wooing her as if she were a desirable, demanding woman?
There could be only one reason the ruthless billionaire prince would have any interest in her: he wanted to use her to get back the things Alan had stolen.
The merger.
The bride.
Grace resolutely turned away. From him, from the black coat, from the extravagant teal cocktail dress and the lavish, hedonistic life they represented. She wouldn’t sell herself, or sell out Alan.
“No,” she said, forcing down the hunger in her soul for everything she knew she’d never have. “I’ll allow you to replace the lingerie.
