by Susan Stoker
“Hello.” Maya cleared her throat. “That was a great speech just now, out there. Thank you for that.” Her face pulsed hot with the beat of her heart.
He didn’t answer. His eyes, slate gray mixed with blue, regarded her steadily. God, he was even more beautiful up close. His chiseled features, perfect lips and faint five o’clock shadow gave him an air of sexy, devil-may-care dominance that made her stomach surge with adrenaline.
He’d taken off his suit jacket, and the shirt was just the right fit to showcase his muscular arms and flat stomach. His tie was loosened, the top button undone, and the glimpse of his neck made her eyes widen. He smelled good, too; something exotic.
“Your Royal Highness.” Mags burst into life, her voice pleading. “Please forgive my friend Maya. She has a neurological condition in which she sometimes blurts out horrible things that she does not at all mean or think in the slightest. In fact, when she says something horrible, it’s usually one hundred percent the exact diametric opposite of what she feels in her heart. What we all feel in our hearts.”
To indicate her sincerity, Mags placed a hand over her chest, as if preparing to sing the national anthem. “Which is that we have the utmost respect for your army, and for you and your intellect, and your brother and his verbal prowess and everything.”
One of the bodyguards smirked and coughed before returning to his placid expression.
Breathless, Mags sucked in air and grabbed Maya. “And that we will apologize sincerely for that vicious and yet completely unplanned and unintentional, and, in fact, very sad outburst. Right?”
“The opposite, is that so?” Prince Henri’s lip twitched. “That is a fascinating disorder. What is it called? I’ll look it up immediately so I can donate to help the world resolve such a troubling malady.” But he wasn’t looking at Mags. He was still staring right at Maya. His expression was intense.
Now Mags looked alarmed. “Um.”
Prince Henri narrowed his eyes. “So here are the masterminds of this fund-raising effort; two people one might expect to be professional and mature. And yet we have one who specializes in creative insults,” and his lip twitched slightly before going back to a serious expression, “and another who specializes in creative conditions. I might imagine you two would excel at creative writing, rather than fund raising.” He crossed his arms, and smirked at Maya, one eyebrow raised. He spoke fluent English, with the faintest trace of an accent that sounded like a mixture of French and British. So, so sexy.
Maya took a deep breath. Okay, they deserved that, and she wasn’t going to lash out, even if she really wanted to. “We appreciate your traveling to the United States, and we’re grateful for your attention to this organization. And for your generous donation. With your help, we’re sure to raise a lot of money, which will help cover the cost of surgeries. Please don’t take your donation money back because of my, uh, inappropriate behavior. I apologize for…” and she struggled to think of something honest, “for the insult to your honor.”
“My honor, luckily, is not so fragile that it cannot withstand a few pellets of cheese.” He raised an eyebrow as she flushed hard, horrified at this entire, awful, embarrassing situation. The bodyguards made no reaction at all; it was as if they were deaf and blind to the conversation, although she could see their attention in their stance.
He reached out his hand. “Not at all a pleasure.”
At her shocked expression, he said smoothly, “I thought we were doing the opposite thing. No? It’s over? Well, then.” But when their fingers touched, his expression changed from mocking to feral, and something in his eyes flashed.
Maya sucked in a breath, because the mere brush of his skin on hers was so powerful that she couldn’t think; could only look at those haughty lips, that sexy face, his lean hips—arousal surged through her in such a sudden wave that she could feel her nipples tingle and stand at attention. Jesus! She’d never had this kind of instant attraction to anyone before. This was insane.
He held her hand for a long second, a few seconds, their eyes locked. Then he smiled, and it was anything but sweet. It was triumphant, a challenge. He let her hand go and nodded.
“As to taking the money back? What, as if we were querulous five-year-olds arguing over marbles on a playground?” He gave a short laugh. “I think we’re more civilized than that, don’t you?”
“I don’t know; I just—I’m really sorry.” She didn’t know where to look.
“I imagine you are.” He seemed amused, and looked at her, examining her face. Then he turned to Mags, and his voice became more businesslike. “My brother would like to speak to you about the organization. We won’t be doing a private photo shoot so your services,” he turned to Maya, “won’t be needed.” He hesitated. “If you’d be willing to accompany Jacques?” He gestured to the bodyguard who had almost laughed earlier. “Prince Erik would like to discuss further collaboration on expanding into more African nations.” He frowned, and he let out a sigh.
Mags’ face illuminated with pure joy, and the noise she made seemed more fitting for rodentia than a human woman. Maya thought maybe Henri was suppressing a grimace, but it was hard to tell.
“Yes, of course, I’d be delighted.” Mags bounced on the balls of her feet. “Absolutely, Jacques, I’d love to, thank you. I will go anywhere, of course.”
“Be sure to mention the other foundation as well,” called Henri after her. “The neurological one. I’d like to see that get more press.”
Mags didn’t seem to hear him, but Maya winced.
Chapter Two
Henri nodded to his people, and they slid away, closing the door. In the silence, alone with him, Maya felt his presence even more firmly. Watching his chest rise and fall with his breaths felt inappropriately but definitely erotic.
“Thanks for not tossing me in the dungeon for insulting you,” she said softly.
He smiled. Then he leaned in and lowered his voice. “And who says I won’t do just that, after all?”
She sucked in a breath, dizzy with his proximity. His breath on her cheek, close to her ear, made her whole face light up in tingles.
“What, you have a private traveling dungeon?” She blinked and stared, caught in his gaze.
“When punishment is appropriate, having my own personal dungeon can be quite a benefit,” he murmured. A muscle clenched in his jaw, and Maya almost combusted with desire. It was all she could do not to launch herself at him, press her lips to his.
He could tell, the cocky bastard! He laughed, then stepped back, leaving her breathless and unsure where to look. “But in this case, I’m willing to give you a chance to redeem yourself,” he added.
“Okay.” She didn’t know what to say. “We really are grateful, you know. The money is going to help so many children. We really couldn’t believe it, when your brother’s people wrote back to Mags, saying he was actually interested! At first, we thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t.” Her voice was almost reverent.
But instead of smiling, he glanced away, and a frown pulled at his mouth. “It was nothing.”
“Well, to you, it’s not a big sum of money.” A touch of ice crept into her tone. “For us, it’s the world.”
He gave a stiff nod. “I’m sure my brother was glad to help.”
“He seemed, rather, um, relaxed… up there.” She shouldn’t pry, it wasn’t at all appropriate! But she couldn’t resist.
Henri scowled, and the door opened again, letting in a stunning brunette in a skin-tight yellow dress, tall strappy heels making her long legs even curvier. “Henri! Toujours le philanthrope. Quel héros.” The fact that the bodyguards let her breeze past, nodded to her with respect, indicated the closeness she had with the prince.
“Celeste.” They folded into a smooth embrace, kisses on both cheeks, hands held, as perfectly as if it were choreographed. “Incroyable comme toujours.”
“I am so glad to join you at last,” she murmured, her smile brilliant. “Paris is divine, of course, as
always. But I missed you and Erik.” She pouted, her lips perfectly made up and lined. “Tonight will be fun.”
She didn’t glance once at Maya, not even for a second, but adjusted Henri’s tie, the gesture at once chaste and intimate. “Your mother sends regards from Bonn.”
His face seemed to harden, just a bit. “When doesn’t she?”
“Ha. I have so much to do.” She glanced at a gold watch on her arm Maya was willing to bet was worth more than her annual salary. “Need to stop by Tiffany’s, and have my assistant finish all the details. That girl is a godsend, I tell you. Maybe a little lazy, but definitely better than the last one.” She wrinkled her lips. “It’s hard to find consistent help.”
Now she shot Maya a glance, but looked away after a mere second. “Il faut que je m’en vais.” She launched into French that was too fast for Maya to follow, then leaned up for a quick kiss on the lips, and then breezed out the door, leaving an echo of her heels and a trail of perfume on the air.
After she left, they were silent for a moment. Maya took a deep breath. “She seems nice.” She put only the tiniest emphasis on she.
Henri tilted one shoulder. “She’s a family friend.” His voice was neutral. He touched his lips.
Maya felt a surge of jealously, white hot, that surprised her in its ferocity. “One of your good friends?” She bit back a smirk, but—eagle-eyed and watchful, he noticed.
“My good friends, you mean, as in the, how did you put it so succinctly? Pieces of ass I’m always seen with in the tabloids? You don’t know a thing about me.” His voice was taut.
She was mortified. “It was a joke. You’re right; I don’t know a thing about you, not for real.”
Henri crossed his arms. “Forget it. Tell me more about you. I’m curious about what you do.” He looked at her, a long gaze, his eyes partially lidded, and her stomach flipped at his intensity.
“Me?” Surprised, she took a step back.
“Why not? Do you have something more interesting to talk about, while we wait for your friend to return, and for my brother to be ready to leave?” He gave her a smirk.
“If I say no, then I sell myself short and appear weak and dull. If I say yes, I reveal myself to be self-centered and egotistical. It’s a conversational Catch-22. You just land-mined me.”
He laughed. “Did I?”
“Nearly.” She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me more about you, first? Since I clearly don’t know the right things.”
He was silent, then he shrugged. “All right. If you want to hear about me? Ask me two questions. Any two. But you have to promise to answer two from me as well. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes.” She automatically put out her hand, and he took it, and the sparks! Again, the sparks shot along her arm, making her catch her breath. She struggled to keep her expression even, but he gave her a knowing look as he released her fingers with a gentle squeeze.
“So, okay.” Her mind swirled, and she grabbed the first thing that fluttered by. “Why aren’t you married? Isn’t the older brother supposed to get married first?”
His voice was light. “I would never begrudge my brother the chance at true love. These days, we don’t have rules about marriage order anymore.” He gave a grimace, clearly aware of the press surrounding his brother’s very public divorce, and the rumors about a new girlfriend in the wings.
“So, are the rumors about you true? That you’re a wild and crazy playboy?” She raised her eyebrows and looked back at the door, after Celeste.
“A gentleman never discusses his partners,” he murmured. “Very gauche and disrespectful.” He met her gaze. “Anyone I date is guaranteed privacy. As well as my complete, undivided attention.” His eyes flashed.
“That wasn’t really an answer,” she pointed out, trying to keep a hitch of arousal out of her voice.
He laughed. “I never said the answers would match the questions perfectly, did I? We just met, and you expect me to lay out my love life for you like a pack of cards?” He paused. “Now, it’s my turn. Are you dating anyone? Is there a man out there who appreciates your particular brand of ridiculousness?” His eyes raked her, insolent.
She startled, then smiled, narrowing her eyes. “Why, are you interested in adding me into your mix of celebrities and starlets?” She bit her lip, then let it go. “How many minutes do you allot to each one per day, like, fifteen? Do you have a calendar to keep them straight?”
She cleared her throat and deepened her voice. “Oh, I’m sorry, Celeste. You’re not on for another,” she looked at her wrist, “two minutes. Let me finish up here with Marielle, first. Climb off please, and wipe off, before the next one climbs on. Thank you.”
He laughed. “Oh, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” But the look he gave her was one of anger, arousal, and challenge.
She grinned. “Yeah. I do.” She stuck up her chin. “And there are plenty of men who like my brand of everything.”
He stepped in and whispered, “You know what? I don’t think you could handle five minutes alone with me, let alone fifteen, chèrie. So, if I ever decide to pencil you into the calendar? I’ll be sure to adjust you accordingly.”
Her eyes widened. “You—”
The door opened and a man stepped in. “Henri, I need a minute.” He glanced at Maya. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but—” and he launched into fast French.
Henri frowned and cursed. “Merde.” He touched Maya’s sleeve. “It appears that your friend,” he emphasized friend with a curl of his lip, “and my brother, have left the event together.”
“Oh?” She frowned. “What do you mean, left together?”
“In his car. His driver took off a few minutes ago.”
“Okay. And so?”
“And so?” His voice rose, incredulous. “What does he need with her?”
“What wouldn’t he need with her?” Her tone sharpened. “That guy said he wanted to talk about the organization, more donations. Maybe what he needs with her is to discuss it somewhere in private. I mean, is he not allowed out without a leash, or something?”
“We had other plans. A very busy day.”
“Plans do change. I mean, what do you think? My friend’s going to kidnap him or something, with all his million bodyguards around? Or wait! Maybe… they’re going to elope all of a sudden after meeting for like five minutes? Please.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Your sense of humor is not entirely appropriate right this moment.” His voice was cold. But he blinked and twisted his golden cuff link, and she could almost swear he seemed… nervous?
“Nor is your condescending arrogance,” she retorted.
“I certainly hope your friend—”
“Mags.”
“Mags. I certainly hope Mags wasn’t doing this whole charity event as a stunt to meet Erik. Or that she’s not going with him to get gossip to sell to the tabloids.”
“Oh, Henri!” She put one hand on her chest. “You smart man, you figured us out. Yes! We did do that. We, five years ago, started a new organization with noted philanthropist Carrie White Horse to help poor kids who need surgery just so that maybe, way in the future, we could do enough fundraising to get your brother involved. This was so Mags could meet him, convince him to whisk her off into the sunset, and then destroy his life like only an American aide worker can, something that would devastate our founder and probably shut us down, along with all of the good works we do. That’s exactly right! I’m so embarrassed that the secret is out. Whatever will I do now?” She rolled her eyes. “Please.”
He scowled at her. “It’s not a joke.”
“No. It’s not.” She raised her chin. “And I’m extremely offended that you could even insinuate that about Mags and any of us. This is a reputable non-profit, and you know it is. You thoroughly vetted it, I’m sure, before anyone even considered donating. I’m a talented, award-winning photo journalist and photographer. Mags is an excellent PR staffer. So right now, you’re just being a jerk.”
“Right now, I’m wondering why you have to be so concerned about your brother. What’s wrong with him, exactly, a grown man, that he can’t take a car ride without needing a private escort?” She crossed her arms, too.
“Nothing is wrong with him.” Henri's voice rose. He took a breath. “I apologize for the insult to your charity. I didn’t mean that. I’m merely—” he shook his head and said something in French under his breath. “I apologize.”
“I’m sure you do.” She made her voice as haughty as his had been earlier.
He seemed about to speak, but a few aides came into the room, talking, and someone touched his arm.
He shook his head. “Thank you for your time, Maya,” he said, his words seeming anything but pleased. “It was quite diverting. I wish your charity all the best with continued fund-raising. Enjoy your plans tonight.”
“Thank you. I will have fun tonight,” she allowed, then added in an undertone, “I hope you enjoy Celeste tonight.”
He scowled and looked like he wanted to say something in kind, but when some entourage members entered the room, he stepped back.
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a sweet smile, “for helping with such a wonderful organization.” Some of his entourage smiled, nodded.
“It’s always a pleasure to help out in the world community.” He took her hand for a second, his expression taut. “Until we meet again.” He turned to his guards. “Allons-y.”
“I probably won’t hold my breath,” she whispered, as he walked out the door, tall and imposing, the guards falling behind him in a flank position. And as she saw him go, she felt an unaccountable sense of loss.
***
That jaw. Those snapping eyes! God, those hands. She had a thing for sexy hands, and Prince Henri—snotty asshole though he may be—owned the sexiest pair she’d seen in a while. Her edited pictures were big on her screen, larger than life, his gray-blue eyes lit up, his lips curled into a smile. She smiled, then caught herself. This was a fantastic portrait, but not at all appropriate for the charity’s website. Maybe more for a romance novel cover.