The Princess huffed into the silence. ‘Then what are we supposed to do? I’m going to be stuck here in this apartment with you for hours.’
He had no sympathy. He was going to be stuck here in this apartment with her for hours too. Did she really think it was going to be a cakewalk for him?
With one arm he gestured towards a stacked bookshelf. ‘Try reading a book,’ he said, sitting at the dining table attempting to find a shred of wireless signal to log into his office. He needed to contact Prince Rafael to let him know their return was delayed, and it was frustrating that there was a part of the world that didn’t boast superfast Wi-Fi capabilities, and that was where he was now. Whereas Lord Howe Island’s isolation had proved advantageous when he’d been tracking down the Princess, it was also proving to be a curse. It was all well and good to sell the island’s lack of connectivity as the perfect excuse to chill out and wind down, but when you were trying to work, it was a positive handicap.
Eventually he heard the Princess huff. A glance of his eyes was all it needed to tell him that she was walking towards the bookshelf. Then somehow, he didn’t even need to glance to know that she stayed there a minute or two, selecting and rejecting the options—his senses told him that, seemingly becoming hyper aware where this woman was concerned—before apparently finding something that caught her interest, taking it back to the sofa and flopping down on her back to read it.
At last. He let go a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Feeling relief. At least for now. Finally, she’d found something to take her mind off their circumstances. And at least now he could think about something other than a hovering bundle of platinum-blonde nervous tension pacing around the apartment.
All too sexy platinum-blonde nervous tension. He felt that tension vibrate through him, almost like she’d emitted it purely to mess with his nerve endings.
Outside the clouds finally unleashed the promised flood of rain, adding to the cacophony of noise battering the roof and windows. Wild. Primal.
Elemental.
Like the friction building up between them. An attraction unwanted and yet seemingly unavoidable. An attraction coupled with confusion. It made no sense to him.
He looked up to see what was left of the view of the mountains disappear in a cascade of grey. So, the forecasters had been right about the weather worsening? Maybe he should be glad the authorities had closed the airport and their tiny plane wasn’t currently trying to struggle its way through this weather.
Then again—he glanced over at the Princess, looking like she was trying to get involved with whatever she was reading. He was relieved she’d stopped pacing. Though that hadn’t stopped the gnawing in his gut or the uncomfortable bristling awareness of her. She had one arm behind her head, holding the book with her other hand, and perched up on her chest. Her fine knitted top clung to her curves, showing off the pronounced line where her ribcage ended, before sweeping down to her flat belly to meet her slim fitted jeans. She’d kicked off her shoes and now the nearest leg was bent, showing off the line of her under leg from knee to the sweet curve of her butt where it rested on the sofa.
He dragged his eyes away. He knew he should be relieved she’d finally stopped complaining. But it would be a damned sight easier if the Princess didn’t look the way she did.Theos.He’d tracked her to the island and found her the first day, only for a simple extraction to be stymied by the weather.
Why couldn’t anything be simple?
He turned back to his search to find a wisp of internet to see if his enquiry about drilling down further into the Prince’s gambling habits had turned up anything but came up a blank.
Damn it.Maybe it would have been preferable to take their chances with the weather after all.
Not an hour later she sighed theatrically and tossed her book aside. She got up from the sofa and again started pacing the rain-lashed windows back and forth like a caged lion. Then she suddenly stopped, hands on hips, staring out at the palms thrashing in the cyclonic winds and teeming rain.
‘I’m bored,’ she stated bluntly.
He didn’t bother looking up. He knew exactly what she was doing. ‘How’s the book?’
‘Didn’t I just tell you? I’m bored. It’s boring. Aren’t you bored?’
He was frustrated, yes. Annoyed at the delay, certainly. Impatient to get this woman back to Rubanestein and out of his life, hell yes! And then there was that niggling discomfort in his gut that she seemed to somehow trigger just by her mere presence.
But bored didn’t factor. Not where this woman was concerned. Not when this woman was proving to be one surprise after another. A princess who’d found work as a waitress and who seemed to enjoy it so much that she was insisting to do one last shift. A princess who’d traded gowns and tiaras for flip-flops.
A princess who’d sneaked into his bedroom last night in an attempt to—what? Seduce him? So he’d be swayed to relent and not to take her home?Whatever other motive could she have had?
She was also a princess who looked too damned good from the rear for his liking. No, that wasn’t right. A princess who looked too damned good from any angle and any way you looked at her.
Why the hell did she have to stand there in front of the window that way? It gave him the perfect view of her hourglass figure.
‘Maybe,’ he said, his voice huskier than he’d intended, ‘you picked the wrong book.’
She shook her head, setting her blonde waves dancing. She lifted one hand to her hair and smoothed it back. ‘Maybe I’m just not in the mood for reading.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘In that case, I see that one of the bookshelves is overflowing with games. Maybe you could find a deck of cards and amuse yourself that way.’
She suddenly spun around, ignoring the puzzle shelf, before pulling up a chair opposite him at the table. ‘How old are you?’
‘What?’
‘I said I’m bored. So, since we’re stuck here together, maybe we could find out more about each other? So, how old are you?’
