Her power over him drove him to his knees that June evening on top of the Braithwaite. She was his kryptonite, and he feared spending more time than necessary with her would break him. It was enough that he survived the tropical storm evening in her flat.
Steady on. Remain focused.Stephen conjured up an image of her brother and Bird. Dead.Live with that reality, mate.
Once he’d sorted his perspective, put it back in order, he approached her, buttoning his tuxedo jacket. “Good evening.”
She nodded with a slight curtsy. “Good evening. You look nice.”
He swallowed. “As do you.” His gaze rose to the sparkling diamond tiara. “Corina, what’s on your head?”
“A tiara.” She touched her hand to the jeweled circlet. “The woman who runs this place gave it to me.”
“A tiara? Are you quite serious? You cannot wearthatto a movie premier with me.”
“Why not?” Corina shot him with a dagger of defiance. “I didn’t ask for it. She gifted it to me. You can hardly see it with my updo.”
“Hardly see it? Perhaps if one were blind. The diamonds are shooting prisms all the way to the park.” He gestured with attitude toward Maritime Park. “Imustask you to remove it. Royal protocol prohibits non-peerage females to wear a tiara around princes or kings. I’m sorry, it’s old fashioned but it is still in effect. The media will be lit up with wonder.”
Her countenance flared. A look he knew well.It’s on now.“Too late now. If I take it off my hair will be ruined.”
“Then ruin it. What’s a bit of muss? Isn’t that the popular look today?” A push of panic and he stood before her. “Did you tell the proprietress? Does she know?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
At the curb, the limousine motor hummed, waiting. A sprinkle of an evening rain breezed over their heads. Then faded.
“The media will be all over us. They’re going to want to know who you are and why you’re wearing a tiara.”
“Pardon me, Your Highness, but I don’t needyoufor people to know who I am. I have my own reputation. The Del Rey name is not unknown in the world. If people ask, I can tell them it’s from my ancestors who, if you go back far enough, were Castilian royalty.” In the haloing streetlight, he could see her trembling. “If anything, the press might just want to know why a Del Rey is attending a movie premier with a rugby player.”
He stared. She stared back. He broke first, laughing. “Get in.”
“Are you sure?” She took a wide berth around him. “Can you risk being seen with me?”
“Fine. You’ve made your point. Just slip inside, Corina.” He bowed, swinging his arm toward the opened limo door. “Please. The air-conditioning is getting away.”
She hesitated, and Stephen realized he’d tapped her stubborn streak. If she didn’t get in soon, he should expect she’d turn on her heel and start down the avenue.
“Are you going to walk?” he said after a moment.
“Yes, I didn’t come all this way for you to insult me.”
He leaned toward her. “Then just why did you come all this way?”
She walked toward the curb and raised her hand. “Taxi!”
Stephen stepped in front of her. “You came looking for me, didn’t you?”
She sighed and her warm, sweet breath filled his chest. “See you at the premier. Taxi!” But the red city cab zipped on past.
Laughing, Stephen pressed his hand to the back of his neck. The woman drove him mad. But he deserved this. Fair and square. Yet how could he keep his heart at bay, remembering why he couldn’t be with her, when she crawled under his skin and remained there.
“Corina, please, get in the limo.”
“Go on, you’ll be late. Taxi!” Another passing motor didn’t even see her.
“Get in.” He stepped up behind her.
She turned to him, reaching up for the tiara, tugging it. But the piece remained in place. She frowned, gave up, and tapped her finger against his chest.
