Her Christmas Prince. Catherine Mann

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СКАЧАТЬ on her bare legs, she noticed, and it took all her willpower not to shift uncomfortably or attempt to cover herself. The only thing that kept her from doing either was the knowledge that he’d noticed the tiny goose bumps beginning to break out on her arms and legs earlier. She was unaccountably touched by his consideration, which was not what she wanted to be feeling.

      “We won’t get too close,” he said, dragging the table back from the hearth a few more inches before taking two cushions from the sofa. “Come, have a seat.”

      He lowered himself onto one of the cushions on the floor and sat cross-legged, leaving the other for her. Instead of sitting across from each other, they would now be much closer, with only one small corner of a rather small table between them.

      It wasn’t the typical setup for a business meeting. But then, her attire wasn’t exactly typical, either. None of this was.

      Striding across the room in her bare feet, she set her files aside and curled her legs beneath her as she sat down.

      Nicolas poured coffee from a brightly polished silver carafe while Alandra studied the dessert. A fluffy, golden pastry was sliced into layers and filled with large, juicy strawberries and a decadent amount of rich cream. Her mouth watered just looking at it.

      Because this situation could easily begin to take on a romantic feel, Alandra immediately started back on the topic of Christmas at the orphanage, and didn’t stop until they’d made it through the pastries and a cup of coffee each. To his credit, Nicolas stuck with the conversation, never trying to change the subject or insert a level of intimacy that didn’t belong.

      His enthusiasm and participation delighted her. She’d expected him to put in only a minimum amount of effort, to convince her he’d brought her to his country for legitimate reasons rather than simply to become the latest in what she was sure was a string of lovers.

      But he was taking their conversations and the business of organizing these fund-raisers seriously. Taking her seriously.

      It was a welcome change after being made the butt of any number of jokes and cruel jibes back home once the rumors had spread that she’d been sleeping with a married man.

      Despite the cup of coffee she’d just consumed, Alandra found herself blinking tired eyes and covering her mouth to stifle a yawn. And maybe she was off her game, maybe her defenses were down, because it seemed sensible, almost natural, to join Nicolas when he moved closer to the fire.

      She reclined beside him, letting the flickering flames and the opulence of her surroundings lull her. Keeping company with a gorgeous prince didn’t hurt, either, even if she had to steel herself against his charms, his looks, the spicy scent of his cologne.

      And he was about as handsome as a man could be. If he weren’t already a prince, she would think he should be. A prince or perhaps a movie star.

      “What are you thinking?” he asked softly from only inches away.

      He had a nice voice, too. Low and slightly husky, it rumbled up from his chest and straight down her spine, causing her bare toes to curl.

      If he wasn’t a royal, constantly being followed by paparazzi, and if she hadn’t recently been slandered and torn apart by vicious rumor and innuendo, she might just be willing to throw caution to the wind and sleep with him, after all. Not become his mistress—that was a bit beyond even her—but spend one passionate, sure-to-be-glorious evening making love with a man who had the power to turn her knees to jelly.

      Thank goodness he didn’t know that. Thank goodness he couldn’t tell exactly what she was thinking. Otherwise all her good intentions, her insistence that her presence here was purely business, with no possibility of pleasure being thrown into the mix, would drift away like a wisp of fog on the ocean breeze.

      Thank goodness.

      “Only that this is nice,” she replied. “Relaxing. I should still be working, but I think I’m too tired.”

      He turned, and she found her own shimmery image reflected in his pupils.

      “Would you like to go to bed?”

      It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Yes, very much,” before her hazy brain identified the danger his question posed.

      “Clever,” she said with a chuckle, feeling just tranquil enough to find his attempt to trap her amusing. “But while I would like to go to bed… eventually…I won’t be doing it with you.”

      “What a shame. Although there’s always tomorrow.”

      There it was again, that calm, cajoling tone. The voice that thickened her blood and sent warm, tingling sensations to areas she’d rather not have tingling in his presence.

      “I didn’t come here for that,” she replied quietly.

      He was only an inch away now, his heated breath dancing over her cheeks and eyelashes. His mouth looked incredibly inviting, sexy and about seven kinds of sinful.

      Surely one little kiss wouldn’t hurt anything. One tiny peck to satisfy an overwhelming curiosity.

      It wasn’t smart. Was, in fact, ludicrous.

      Before she had a chance to decide if she could afford a momentary lapse of sanity, Nicolas made the decision for her.

       Seven

      Oh, my .

      He tasted of wine and the strawberries and cream that had been part of their dessert, with a hint of the coffee he’d sipped afterward. Sweet and tart and smoky all at the same time.

      It was a heady mixture, but nothing compared to the feel of his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting, stroking, claiming.

      His hands gripped her shoulder and the side of her face, gently pulling her up. She wasn’t sure how it happened, had no conscious memory of moving, but suddenly she was on her knees, pressed chest to chest with Nicolas and kissing him back with equal vigor.

      While his hands kneaded and caressed her upper arms, hers clutched at his shirt, desperately holding on and pulling him closer. Her breasts were squashed between them, but she could still feel her nipples beading. Heat gathered and pooled low in her belly, and her heartbeat was a thunderbolt blasting in her ears.

      She’d been wrong about keeping her distance, wrong about trying to convince herself she wasn’t interested in this man. He was hard and strong and self-assured, and brought to life emotions she’d never felt before, at least not to this degree.

      Her fingers trailed upward to tangle in the short strands of his silky hair. The two of them were already mouth to mouth, body to body, as close as they could be while still clothed, but that didn’t keep her from exerting a small amount of pressure at the back of his skull and—if it was possible—taking the kiss even deeper.

      With a groan, Nicolas moved his hands to skim the undersides of her breasts. He cupped them in his palms, measuring their fullness and weight before letting his thumbs slide up and over the tight peaks of her nipples.

      The caress, made even more erotic by the thin layer СКАЧАТЬ