Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology

by Gina Kincade

  "I arrived in Austria last night." She sipped the wine to try to calm her nerves. "I simply didn't have time to find a new dress. As you can imagine, everything red or white in the local stores was already sold out." She hoped.

  "It's brave of you," he said dryly. "The Stirling family love their traditions and rituals."

  "The Stirling family?" She needed to know who everyone was, and this man seemed well-informed. If she were lucky, he'd point them out to her.

  His brow creased slightly as he looked down at her. "Our hosts," he said. "The Duke and Duchess of Stirling."

  "Right," she murmured, her mind racing. How would she cover the flub? She'd only wanted more information. Fortunately, Stephano carried on, nodding at the utterly handsome man who'd caught her eye just a few minutes ago. "That's the heir apparent," he said. "Do you know him?"

  She swallowed her shock. That man was heir to all of this grandeur?

  "No," she said to Stephano, and there was a shade of sadness in her tone. The heir to a dukedom was as out of her reach as the stars in the sky. That moment of recognition that had seemed to pass between them would have to feature only in her memories and dreams.

  The music swept to a climax, and faded away. The crowd broke into individuals, and then reformed, like schools of fish that had been briefly disturbed.

  A dark voice spoke from behind Alessandra. "Dance with me."

  She turned, and he held out his arms. The man who'd entranced her from the beginning. The heir apparent.

  The word 'no' hovered on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say it. She needed to say it. She didn't take well to bossy people, especially not the arrogant male variety.

  And this guy had arrogance stamped on every atom of his body. His height alone commanded attention. His custom tuxedo clung lovingly to his broad shoulders, while his snowy white shirt set off his tan face and jet-black hair. His perfectly carved lips should have been smiling, but instead he looked solemn, as if his invitation was more serious than an offer to dance could be.

  But that voice. Deep, dark—caressing her merely with its sound. Who could resist?

  Alessandra held out her hand, almost unconsciously, holding her breath as she waited for his first touch.

  He clasped her hand with his, and she waited to be swept into the dance. But he surprised her. He turned her hand over, bowed slightly, and raised it to his lips. She felt his soft, warm mouth press a kiss against the back of her fingers. The touch was brief, but tantalizing, sending a frisson of pleasure all the way through her body.

  He smiled, acknowledging her surprise, and then he clasped her hand firmly in his, pulled her closer, and slid his right arm around her waist, slowly, as if learning her shape as he went.

  Pleasure radiated from every spot he touched. Even her eyes widened, as if every part of her had to expand with joy.

  Someone cleared his throat. She looked around in surprise to see Stephano standing there, a wry smile on his lips. "Allow me," he said, "to present Raul Winthrop."

  Alessandra tilted her head to acknowledge the introduction.

  "And this lovely lady, Raul, is Alessandra Ranieri. With whom I was intending to dance."

  Raul grinned at his friend. The light from his smile set off fireworks inside Alessandra.

  "I asked her first," Raul said.

  "I saw her first," Stephano argued.

  "No." Raul shook his head firmly. "I saw her the instant she opened that side door and peeked in. It's my party, anyway, and I call dibs." Of course, he hadn't moved his hands which were holding her in a secure waltz clasp, so the argument was somewhat moot.

  Stephano sighed, as if recognizing that fact. The blonde who'd been standing by, looking increasingly uncomfortable, shifted on her feet, drawing Stephano's attention.

  "Hell," he said cheerfully. "If it's my lucky day, Mirella will dance with me and we can each carry off a prize."

  "You're a good diplomat, Stephano," Mirella said with a warm smile. "Great recovery, combined with generous tact."

  Alessandra had to revise her initial impression of the blonde. She was more gracious than arrogant, despite the diamonds glittering from her earlobes and the gleam of her red silk gown.

  "Nonsense." Stephano moved toward Mirella and held out his arms. "Raul and I will be the envy of every man in this ballroom."

  Mirella shook her head, rolling her eyes and laughing. "I love you best, Stephano."

  Raul glanced at her and smiled. "You love me best, but let's all dance." The music started as if he'd signaled the orchestra, and his feet moved. Alessandra followed automatically, her feet behaving as if she and Raul had been dancing together for all their lives.

  Thank goodness she'd been raised in Hollywood, where dancing and singing lessons were more important than algebra and biology. For a few years, her mother had fantasized that Alessandra would be picked up by one of the cable channels and become a teen idol. Unfortunately, she couldn't act or sing. She could dance well, however, even classical ballroom dancing, and was easily able to twirl away as the orchestra started up the familiar strains of the Blue Danube waltz.

  Raul held her in a perfect formal embrace, with a couple inches of air between them. But he was close enough that she could catch his scent, both hot and cold, as if he were a blazing fire burning in a snow-covered forest. She could feel the warmth of his hand firmly holding her waist, and the skin-to-skin contact of their clasped hands was generating an electrical current throughout her body.

  People stared, presumably because of her blue dress. She decided not to worry about that. The dress swirled lightly around her feet, but it was the look in the almost-duke's eyes that made her truly feel beautiful. For a few beats of the music, she luxuriated in the feeling.

  Until he spoke. "I didn't see you in the receiving line, Miss Ranieri," he said softly. "How did you gain entrance to the ball?"

  A sliver of ice slid down her spine. He’d only asked her to dance so he could interrogate her presence here. Why did he have to be the one to challenge her? The most wonderful man she'd ever seen, the man who could dance her into a dream, the man who could destroy her claim in an instant with his powerful connections.

  She knew from her research that the Duke and Duchess of Stirling, although British citizens, had lived much of their lives in Austria, where the Duchess had been born and raised. They were connected to a large part of European royalty.

  They weren't known to be evil or corrupt. But they certainly were powerful, and they would make dangerous enemies. She would have to tread carefully.

  Which meant, she'd have to stay on Raul’s good side. She reminded herself of one of the few maxims she remembered from her childhood. Begin as you mean to go on. On the thought, she swept her eyelids down in a flirtatious gesture, and spoke even more softly than he had, forcing him to lean down to catch her words.

  His arms tightened as he did so. She could only pray that he couldn't feel the fine trembling that was turning her muscles to water. It was such an incredible sensation to be held by him.

  "I was a child here in Bergserrat," she managed to say. "I know some side doors in the palace."

  His smooth steps faltered momentarily, but he recovered quickly. "You visited this palace as a child? How old are you?"

  "Twenty-six." She raised her eyes to his.

  He was frowning slightly. "Two years younger than me," he said. "I don't remember you."

  Alessandra stared. Surely they were all the same age? She, Raul, and his twin sister, Calandre. She couldn't have made such a basic mistake.

  She tried to hide her chagrin, even as she forced herself to speak again. "The name 'Ranieri' means nothing to you?"

  "It's a common name in Austria." He brushed off her words. "I don't know everyone in the country."

  "I was friends with your sister," she said.

  "Calandre." He bit off the name. "She's in Paris, spending money like there's no tomorrow."

  Alessandra's heart plunged in disappointment, even a
s she wondered at the note of bitterness in his voice. Surely they had plenty of money? Not that their financial condition was her concern.

  But the absence of Calandre was. She'd hoped to forge a connection with her.

  "When will Calandre return?"

  "When there's nothing left to buy in Paris." His hostility was even more pronounced this time.

  "Ummm..." She didn't know what to say. Maybe it would be better to remain silent and enjoy the sheer pleasure of following his steps as he led them skillfully in wide circles around the ballroom. The music rose and fell, carrying them as if they were swans, floating on song. His guidance was light but so skillful she didn't have to think about the steps at all, which left her free to memorize his scent, and to commit to memory the feel of his steel hard arm around her.

  This was a once in a lifetime event. She didn't expect to ever dance again with him. When the ball was over she, like Cinderella, would return to her more mundane life. Although his eyes rested on her with a certain look of interest that she recognized from other men, she was too far removed from his realm to allow herself to indulge in fantasy.

  He shook his head a little. "Enough of my thoughtless sister. Let me instead compliment you on your beautiful eyes. They're magnificent with your gown. I guess I'll have to forgive you for ignoring our dress code." His tone was light, his smile practiced.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know about the dress code."

  "You're quite the mystery, aren't you?" His hand clasped hers a little more closely. "Where'd you learn how to dance so well?"

  "A privileged childhood." She smiled, to take the boastfulness out of her comment. Which she had to do, since her implication was a lie.

  "Let's get a little fancier then," he said." If I dip you back over my arm, will you be able to follow?"

  "Do your worst." She smiled, excited at the idea that he'd have to hold her more tightly.

  "I prefer to think of it as my best." He let go of her waist and twirled her under his upraised arm. When he clasped her again, he bent his arm just enough under her back so she could lean back as he swept her around. Her head swam with delight, and she knew he'd move her closer to his body when she floated upright.

  "Wonderful," he said, his grin white in his tanned face. "You know that move was designed to allow a man a glimpse of his partner's charms?"

  She laughed. "So who designed the penguin suit that hides all of a man's—assets?"

  His eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. "Actually, the female is designed for beauty. We men are mere foils. Hence the black and white tuxedo design, which will never clash with your gowns."

  "Don't kid yourself," she answered. "Women love physical attributes as much as men do. But perhaps"—some imp propelled her into dangerous territory—"perhaps we're more interested in feeling than in seeing."

  This time his mouth dropped open, and he stared at her. "Feel that," he murmured. For the first time since they'd begun dancing, he brushed her hips with his and oh, yeah, she felt it. As quickly as he'd touched her, he pulled away and she mourned the loss of what he'd offered. She wanted to be crushed against him, to feel everything he had to offer. But, of course, this was not the place for that kind of dancing.

  He bent his head down so his mouth was near her ear. "Are you trembling," he asked.

  What could she answer? She didn't want to stroke his ego, or make him think she was his for the asking. While she wanted to be on good terms with him, she knew better than to get involved in any way with anyone, let alone an heir to a dukedom. She had a goal to achieve in Austria, and that goal was far more important than a momentary fling.

  "I had a long flight from Los Angeles," she finally said. "I'm tired." Would that excuse trembling?

  "I'm delighted you found the energy to come to our little party," he said, a trace of wryness in his tone. "No matter how unusual your methods might have been." He twirled her under his arm again, complete with the dip backward. When she moved upright this time, she caught his gaze lingering on her cleavage. She waited for the subtle brush against his erection, but he didn't oblige her again.

  All too soon, the dance was ending. Raul drew her to a stop next to a tall woman with dark hair and warm hazel eyes. She wore a fabulous couture gown, and a small, diamond-studded tiara on her head.

  "Kat," Raul said, greeting her with a big smile, "I'd like to introduce a fellow American, Alessandra Ranieri. Alessandra, this is Princess Katherine de Seville."

  Alessandra wanted to gawk. The princess was so beautiful. But she was flustered, wondering if she was supposed to curtsy, or what. However, as if to banish her uneasiness, the princess was smiling, and holding out her hand.

  "I'm so pleased to meet someone from my former country," she said. "What brings you to Bergserrat, Alessandra?"

  She could not announce her goal to the princess. It was impossible. And inappropriate. The princess was merely making small talk, not expecting a confession.

  "I was actually born in Austria," she said. "I came back to revisit some old haunts."

  "Wonderful!" The princess beamed. "Isn't this a beautiful country? I was so thrilled to marry and move here."

  "I’ve heard that you and your husband have made many investments to improve the economy here in the Austrian Alps," Alessandra answered. Her research had been thorough. The Swiss and Italian Alps provided a lot of competition for tourist dollars. Austria could take nothing for granted.

  "Thank you, dear, for saying so. You must visit us in the palace." With a charming smile, the princess excused herself and swept away to greet someone else. Alessandra stood for a moment, marveling that she'd just met a real life princess. Of course, she knew the invitation to visit the palace was a mere courtesy, but still, she treasured it.

  Of course, she hadn't forgotten Raul, standing by her side. Had he introduced her to the princess deliberately? Had he been hoping to be rid of her, now that their dance was over? That would undoubtedly be best, so she could get her head out of the clouds and carry on with the goal that had brought her to Austria.

  But Raul was speaking now.

  "I see Stephano and Mirella heading to the banquet hall," he said. "Would you like to join them?" He held out his arm, and she placed her hand in the opening at the crook of his elbow. Would this lead to the very kind of involvement she knew she didn't need?

  She glanced up at his face, and her heart skipped a beat. He was a devastatingly attractive man.

  No, she decided, she was not succumbing to his appeal. She was just getting food, and that was a practical choice. Free food was always a bonus to a person on a limited budget.

  The four of them found a round table set with gleaming china, sterling silver and crystal glasses. A waiter glided over immediately. A menu card written in beautiful calligraphy rested at each place setting so they were able to order from the limited menu immediately. After checking with their table mates, Raul and Mirella conferred with the waiter to order wine.

  Then Raul turned to Alessandra, who was seated next to him. "Are you staying in the city?"

  "Yes." She tried to say only the one-word answer, but they were all watching her expectantly. "I'm staying at an Airbnb, owned by a charming gentleman." She couldn't get into the long story now of why she was staying at Tem's home. But she was uncomfortably aware of stating another lie.

  Raul frowned. "You're staying in a stranger's home?"

  "He's delightful. Wouldn't hurt a flea." Alessandra smiled at the waiter as she chose a few hors d’oeuvre off the proffered platter.

  Raul exchanged a glance with Stephano, but Alessandra couldn't decipher the message.

  "What is his name?" Stephano asked smoothly.

  "I don't know." She didn't want to be evasive. It could only hurt her cause. But she couldn't have these powerful men bothering her gentle host.

  This time Stephano frowned. Then he reached, presumably into a pocket, and pulled out a slender black leather case. An embossed card was withdrawn and he
handed it across the table. "Call anytime if you have a problem," he said. "The emergency call system is excellent in Austria, but call me next. I can be of assistance."

  The smooth assurance in his tone should have pleased her, but instead, she was irritated. She was offended on behalf of Tem, even though she shouldn't be. After all, they didn't know him. And she was offended on her own behalf. She could take care of herself.

  They were quiet for a few moments while dinner was served. Alessandra inhaled the rich scent of the beef tenderloin, and the more subtle aroma of a side dish of braised vegetables and fruit.

  When the waiter had withdrawn, Raul turned to her and asked, "What brings you to Austria?"

  His gaze on her was warm, even hot, if she wanted to flatter herself. For no good reason, it gave her courage. Still, she had to draw in a deep breath. If she was going to do this, she might as well start now. "I'm here to claim a small inheritance from my grandmother," she answered.