“A woman showed up with a bunch of clothes for Cleo and me. We’re picking out dresses for the dinner.” She held out the skirt of the gown. “I thought maybe I’d ask Sabrina if this dress was all right. There are a couple of others that would work, but I like this one best. Still, I’m not sure I’m going in the right direction. I don’t have a lot of experience with formal state dinners.”
“She’s out with her husband and won’t be back for a couple of hours. I’d be happy to give you my opinion.”
Zara eyed him doubtfully. “Do you know anything about these kind of functions?”
“I’ve been to dozens. Show me what else you’re considering.”
This had been a stupid idea, Rafe told himself fifteen minutes later as he stood in the center of Zara’s bedroom and watched her model a strapless number in emerald green. Even though she disappeared into the bathroom to change, he could hear clothing rustle as she dressed, which was practically the same as seeing her change into each gown. The cut of the current one made it impossible for her to be wearing anything but panties underneath. Which made him think about joining her in the bathroom the next time she disappeared. Which made him think about very personal contact. Which made him hard.
He swore silently and shifted, then sank into a corner chair. With luck, the combination of shadows and her relative innocence would keep her from figuring out that he was aroused.
Zara turned back and forth in front of the full-length mirror. She put her hands on her waist and sighed.
“I don’t know if this looks weird,” she muttered. “Is my neck too long? Do I look like a skinny bird?”
“You look beautiful.”
She met his gaze in the mirror. “Why do I suddenly think that being nice to me is part of the job?”
“It’s not in the contract. Zara, you look great in that dress. So far I’ve liked all of them. What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. I want to look—” She shook her head. “I guess I want to look like someone else.”
“Why?”
“Because. I’m just ordinary. My skin is a decent color and it’s clear, so that’s nice. I guess I like my eyes, but my mouth is weird.”
He thought it was full and sensual. Her mouth made him think of kissing…intimate kissing. It made him wonder how her lips would feel on his body, his hands tangling in her hair as she—
Down boy, he told himself.
The bedroom door opened and Cleo breezed in. “I’ve found it,” she announced, grinning.
Zara looked at her sister and visibly wilted. Cleo’s dress was similar to Zara’s but in a deep cobalt blue that matched her eyes. The bustier bodice hugged lush curves that threatened to spill out with every breath. The straight skirt skimmed over Cleo’s full hips before falling to the floor. Zara looked cool and elegant, like an ice princess. Cleo was a walking, breathing invitation to have sex.
The two sisters looked at each other. Cleo’s smile faded. “Oh, no. We can’t be twins. If that’s the dress you want to wear, I’ll find something else.”
“Are you kidding?” Zara tugged at her loose bodice. “Even with padding, I’ll never do this dress justice. There’s another one I like just as well. I’ll wear that.”
“Are you sure?”
Zara managed a smile. “Cleo, you have to wear that. You look so fabulous that no one will notice me, which is exactly how I want things.”
“Okay. Great.”
Cleo saw him and gave a little wave. “You’re taking this protecting thing a little too seriously, aren’t you, Rafe?”
“Just here to give my opinion.”
“Sure.”
Her expression turned knowing, making him wonder if she’d figured out that Zara got to him.
Cleo sashayed out the door, closing it behind her. Zara covered her face in her hands.
“Did you see her?” she asked. “I can’t believe it. She has the most incredible body and I’m left with all the appeal of a green bean.”
“That’s not true.”
She lowered her hands. “You’re being nice and I appreciate it, but we both know the truth. All the padding in the world isn’t going to disguise my shortcomings.”
Without thinking, he rose to his feet and crossed the room to stand in front of her. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He turned her so that they were both facing the mirror. “What would you change?”
“Everything.”
“I wouldn’t.”
Without considering the intelligence of the move—or the potential consequences—he spun her toward him, pulled her close and kissed her.
Chapter Seven
Rafe couldn’t possibly be kissing her, Zara told herself, trying to stay calm. But even as the thought formed, his arms came around her body and pulled her close while his mouth settled on hers. It really felt like a kiss.
His lips were firm and warm, yet so tender she wanted to melt. His height allowed her to feel delicate and feminine as she snuggled in his embrace. She placed her hands on his shoulders, savoring the tense muscles shifting against her fingertips. Then he moved his mouth, and she couldn’t think anymore. Not when sweet sparks exploded in her chest, making her want with an intensity she’d never felt before.
His tongue swept against her bottom lip. Instinctively she parted for him, then waited expectantly for the first, intimate touch. He didn’t disappoint her. After tracing the inside of her lower lip, making her shiver, he moved closer and swept inside.
The first brush of his tongue nearly made her faint. Hot pleasure filled her body, starting in her chest, then moving lower. Her skin seemed to tighten and become more sensitized. She was aware of his hands on her body—one at the small of her back, one higher, on bare skin.
His fingers moved in time with his tongue, back and forth, around and around. Initially she’d touched him because they were kissing and she could, but now she clung to him. That whole bone-dissolve thing had started up again, and she knew she was in danger of falling.
Then there was the matter of her breasts. As small as they might be, they were exquisitely sensitive. As the passion grew, Zara felt her nipples tighten. When Rafe shifted, grinding his chest against her modest curves, she gasped from the contact. The combination of pleasure and tension was more than she was used to. She desperately wanted him to jerk down the zipper in the back of her dress and cover her breasts with his hands. At that moment she didn’t even care that they were small and unimpressive—she simply wanted him to touch them…to touch her…all of her.
Instead of reading her mind, he cupped her face, as if he needed to keep her from running while they kissed. The swirl of tongues, the press of bodies, was nearly more than she could stand. The room tilted slightly, but Zara found she didn’t care about things like staying conscious. What did that matter when compared with the glory of Rafe’s kiss?
She slipped her hands down to his side, then slid around to his back. He was so strong, so muscled. She wanted to see him without clothes; she wanted to touch him everywhere. She wanted—
He broke the kiss and nipped on her bottom lip. Before she could do more than gasp, he moved lower, kissing, nibbling, and licking his way over her jaw and down her throat. She held her breath, desperately hoping that he might have read her mind. Lower and lower until he reached the loose fabric over her breasts.
Instead of reaching for the zipper, he simply shoved the bodice down, baring her to the waist. Before she could protest, or cover herself, he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked.
She felt the fire all the way down to her toes. Rational thought fled, as did her ability to breathe. She could only gasp as he teased the sensitive bud and drove her wild with passion. Her thighs trembled and ached. Between them a throbbing began, one that made her remember that her very large bed was only a few feet away.
Rafe pulled away and swore. She thought he was going to step back, but instead he pulled her dress back up over her breasts, then jerked her against him and kissed her fran
tically. His fingers dug into her scalp, his tongue thrust against hers and his body melded with her own. She felt the hardness of his muscles, then a different kind of hardness. One that made her think he was as turned on as she was.
He groaned in his throat and drew back. Zara blinked several times. There was definitely fire in his blue eyes. Fire and wanting. Could this incredible passion be about her?
He stalked to the glass doors leading to the balcony and stared out at the horizon. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said quietly.
“But it did.” She cleared her throat. She couldn’t stop thinking about that ridge she’d felt. “Rafe, are you, um, armed?”
He turned to face her. “What?”
“Do you have a gun?” She motioned vaguely toward his trousers without actually looking there.
One corner of his mouth quirked up in a shadow of a smile. “No.”
“So you’re um…” Her voice trailed off. “You were, um, interested in what we were doing?”
His gaze narrowed. “What are you trying to find out?”
She couldn’t actually say the words. Heat flared on her cheeks. “You know. I sort of felt…something.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re asking that. Yes, I was aroused. I wanted you. I still want you.”
Happiness filled her. She felt light enough to float. She hadn’t been wrong. He’d really been hard—and for her.
He walked toward her and stopped a couple of feet in front of her. After putting his hands on her shoulders, he shook her slightly.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he told her. “There’s nothing wrong with your body. In fact, I think everything about it’s just right. Of course I want to make love with you.”
It was the best thing any man had ever said to her. She nearly swooned. Even as air refused to fill her lungs, she had a very clear image of the two of them in bed. They would be naked, moving together. She got a little vague at that point, but Rafe was the kind of man who knew things. He would make her first time wonderful. In fact—
“Whatever you’re thinking, you can just forget it,” he said bluntly.
“Huh?”
He dropped his arms to his sides. “I mean it, Zara. There’s not going to be one damn thing between us. I should never have kissed you.”
“I can’t quite bring myself to agree with you,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re a princess. I’m your temporary bodyguard. My job is to keep you safe from every kind of threat. That means the sexual ones—even if they come from me.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Why? We obviously both enjoyed kissing. What’s so horrible about that?”
He dismissed her with a quick jerk of his fingers. “We both know where we were going.”
Her elation grew. Really? They’d been heading to bed? He’d thought they’d been about to do it? The frustration of finally being with a man who really wanted her and yet refused to give in to temptation made her temper flare.
“I don’t understand,” she told him. “In all the movies I’ve seen, the bodyguard always sleeps with the client.”
“This isn’t a movie,” he growled. “There are a lot of reasons why I’m not giving in to temptation.”
He continued talking but she wasn’t listening. Temptation? Rafe—the walking, breathing hunk who could have any woman he wanted on this planet and probably several others—thought she was a temptation? Wow.
“Zara, you’re not paying attention.”
She smiled. “I know.” He sounded so serious when she just wanted to freeze-frame the moment so she could have it always.
He crooked his finger and pushed his knuckle against her chin. “I’m trying to make a point here. What would have happened if we’d continued?”
She was a little fuzzy on that part of things, which was her point.
“Things would have gotten hot and heavy pretty fast,” he said when she didn’t speak. “About two seconds after that, your dress lady would have come strolling back into the bedroom. Want to think about that for a second?”
Zara most definitely did not. She’d forgotten about the fitting. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. Scandal isn’t pretty. Trust me on this. And while I finally have your attention, listen to this. I’m not some handsome prince looking for true love. I don’t believe in commitments or forever. I don’t believe in settling down. I live for the moment and then move on. I’m about the worst kind of man for you, so stay clear of me.”
Her embarrassment returned. She pulled free of his light touch and turned away. “No one said anything about commitments,” she mumbled. “I thought we were talking about sex.”
“I doubt you can separate them.”
She spun toward him. “I wouldn’t know that, would I? Just once I would like to meet a single man who would be willing to make love with me. That’s all I want. Just one guy. Everyone else on the planet seems to be having a fine time in bed and I can’t even come close to getting naked.”
She walked to the far side of the room. The vanity drawer just below the mirror was partially open. She slammed it for good measure. While she couldn’t regret the kissing, Rafe’s reaction was taking all the fun out of it. She wasn’t interested in a commitment. Okay, maybe she would be one day. After all she’d always wanted a husband and family. But not yet. Not before she’d actually done the wild thing.
“There’s another, more compelling reason I chose not to give in to lust,” he said casually, as if they were talking about the weather. “I intend to keep my head right where it belongs.”
Zara glanced at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re the daughter of a ruling monarch. Men like the king have a thing against their virgin daughters being defiled. Especially not by the hired help. Punishment is swift and permanent.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s crazy. He wouldn’t cut off your head.”
Rafe shrugged. “If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.”
With that he turned and headed for her bedroom door.
“They’d cut off his head?” Cleo asked later that afternoon when Zara recounted her conversation with Rafe. “That is so cool!”
Zara hadn’t gone into all the details. In fact she’d left out the most interesting bits. The part about Rafe kissing her and having physical proof of his arousal. She still wasn’t ready to tell that to anyone…not even her sister.
“I don’t think I share your opinion of the information,” Zara said glumly. “I already have trouble getting dates. What’s going to happen when the men I meet find out that the price of having sex with me is death? They’re hardly going to be jumping for joy.”
They were in Cleo’s room, sitting on her bed. A light snack had been delivered by a servant just a few minutes ago, along with a written note from Sabrina, telling them what time to be ready and that they would be escorted to the event. Zara didn’t like the fact that Sabrina had written rather than called. It didn’t bode well for her future relationship with her new half sister. Like she didn’t already have enough problems.
“You don’t have to tell every guy you meet the truth,” Cleo said, then picked up a slice of melon and took a bite.
“If they meet me here, they’re already going to know I’m the king’s daughter.”
Zara fingered a cracker, but found she couldn’t actually eat. Nerves were doing tai chi in her stomach. Between her passionate encounter with Rafe, her trepidation about meeting the rest of her potential family, the formal dinner and Sabrina’s cold shoulder, she found herself wanting to head back to the States and pretend that this had never happened.
“Maybe your run of back luck in the man department is about to change,” Cleo said cheerfully. “It couldn’t get worse.”
“Don’t tempt fate by saying that.” Zara nibbled on the cracker. “I can’t believe how complicated this all is. Rafe also told me that men were going to be intereste
d in me because of my position as Hassan’s daughter.”
“Well, duh.” Cleo shook her head. “You are so unprepared to handle this.”
Zara knew that her sister meant the comment kindly, but it still stung. Sometimes she really hated that Cleo was so “man” experienced. No doubt tonight she would create a sensation. What would it be like to be so incredibly attractive to men? Just once Zara would like to think that someone could find her irresistible, too.
“I’ll have to be careful,” Zara said. “It’s going to be strange not knowing if a man is interested in me for myself or for my connections.” She grimaced. “Actually, I already have that answer. I’ll know exactly what he’s interested in.”
Cleo scooted close and touched her arm. “Zara, you’re too hard on yourself. Just because you’ve picked stupid men in the past doesn’t mean there aren’t dozens of wonderful guys who would think you’re incredible. Because you are. Someday you’re going to meet the right guy and he’s going to knock your socks off and you’re going to make him not care about getting his head chopped off.”
Zara laughed. “Oh, sure. Who would risk death to sleep with me? I couldn’t get anyone to do it before.”
“It’ll happen. You’ll see.”
Zara appreciated Cleo’s support, but didn’t believe a word of it. As for someone knocking off her socks, Rafe had done a darn good job. She’d also aroused him. But apparently not enough. He’d practically left skid marks in his haste to warn her off.
Someone knocked at their door precisely on time. Zara smoothed down the front of the bronze-colored dress she’d slipped into and headed for the door. Marie and her staff had worked magic, nipping and tucking the fabric until the soft folds created the illusion of curves. A strapless padded bra gave her a couple of inches on top.
Nearly an hour and a half before, Renee had arrived with a suitcase full of cosmetics, followed by Eric who did hair. Between the two of them, Zara had been transformed. Her long hair had been piled high on her head in an elaborate style that swept up and around. A servant had brought a diamond tiara, along with several jewelry choices. Cleo had nearly drooled in delight. The sparkling diamonds and sapphires made Zara nervous and as she reached for the door handle, she rubbed her fingers against the diamond drop earrings she’d chosen.
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