The Prince's Ultimate Deception. Emilie RoseЧитать онлайн книгу.
free or naked without the familiar weight bumping her hip.
A breeze swept into the open-air café, catching and ruffling the paper. She flattened her hand over it to keep it from blowing away. Damon’s covered hers a split second later as he did the same. The heat of his palm warmed her skin. Electricity arced up her arm. Judging by the quick flare of his nostrils, she wasn’t the only one feeling the sparks, but she couldn’t see his eyes to be sure and that frustrated her.
She tilted her head, but didn’t withdraw her hand. He didn’t smile as he slowly eased his away, dragging his fingers the length of hers and igniting embers inside her.
“You know, Damon, if you’re going to flirt with me it would be much more effective without the glasses. Hot glances don’t penetrate polarized lenses.”
He stilled and then deliberately reached up to remove his sunglasses with his free hand. “Are you interested in a flirtation, Madeline?”
The one-two punch of his accented voice huskily murmuring her name combined with the desire heating his eyes quickened her pulse and shortened her breath. “That depends. Are you married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“I am not committed to anyone at this time.”
“Gay?”
He choked a laugh. “Definitely not.”
“Healthy?”
His pupils dilated. He knew what she meant. “I have recently received a clean bill of health.”
Excitement danced within her. “Then, Damon, we’ll see if you have what it takes to tempt me.”
Two
“This is a mistake, if I may say so, Dominic.” Only in the privacy of their suite did Ian dare use Dominic’s given name. Seventeen years together had built not only familiarity, but friendship.
“Damon. Damon Rossi,” Dominic corrected as he packed for his first outing with Madeline Spencer.
“How am I to remember that?”
“D.A. Rossi is the name I sign on official documents, including the hotel registration. Damon is but a combination of my initials and an abbreviation of our country.”
“Clever. But if the paparazzi catch you with a woman on the eve of your engagement…”
“As of this morning there is no engagement. A woman has not been selected, and if the council continues to argue as they have done for the past four months over birthing hips, pedigrees and whatever other absurd qualities they deem necessary for a princess, they will never come to an agreement, and I will not be forced to propose to a woman I know or care nothing about.”
The council members had dehumanized the entire process. Not once had they asked Dominic’s preferences. They might as well be choosing animals to breed from a bloodline chart.
Dominic had been nineteen when the council had chosen Giselle as his future bride, and he had not objected for he’d known her since they were children. His parents and hers had been friends for decades. He had convinced their families to postpone the marriage until after he obtained his university degree, and in those intervening years he and Giselle had become friends and then lovers before becoming husband and wife.
In the nine years since her death he had not met one single woman who made an effort to see the man behind the title and fortune.
And now once again the council would decide his fate as the traditions of his country decreed, a circumstance which did not please him, but one he was duty-bound to accept. But this time the idea of the group of predominantly old men choosing a stranger to be his wife did not sit well.
Dominic threw a change of clothing on top of the towels, masks and fins already in his dive bag. “Mademoiselle Spencer wishes to see Monaco. I wish to explore the tourist venues as a vacationer instead of as a visiting prince. Perhaps I will see a different side to the enterprises than I have seen before. The knowledge will benefit Montagnarde’s tourist development plan which, as you know, I will present to the economic board again in two months. This time I will not accept defeat. They will back my development plan.”
He had spent the years since he’d left university studying successful tourist destinations and laying the groundwork to replicate similar enterprises in his homeland. He wanted to model Montagnarde’s travel industry after Monaco’s, but the older members of the board refused to accept that the country had to grow its economic base or continue to lose its youth to jobs overseas. His father had sworn to lend his support in return for Dominic agreeing to marry before the end of his thirty-fifth year. With sovereign backing Dominic’s plan would be passed.
“You know nothing about this woman,” Ian insisted.
“A circumstance I am sure you have already begun to rectify.” Any acquaintance with whom Dominic spent more than a passing amount of time was thoroughly investigated.
“I have initiated an inquiry, yes. Nevertheless, an affair would not be wise.”
“Not an affair, Ian. A harmless flirtation. I cannot have sex with a woman to whom I am lying.”
We’ll see if you have what it takes to tempt me.
His heart rate quickened at the memory of Madeline’s enticing banter and vibrant eyes. He would very much like to be her lover, but for the first time in years he found himself savoring the idea of being merely a man whom a beautiful woman found attractive. He didn’t want to ruin that unique experience by revealing his identity, but he couldn’t sleep with Madeline until he did. “I am aware of the risks.”
“How will you explain my presence?”
Dominic zipped the bag and faced Ian, knowing his decision would not be a popular one. “The Larvotto underwater reserve is well patrolled by the Monaco police. No other boats or watercraft are allowed in the area. You can rest easy knowing the only dangers I face while snorkeling are that of the fish and the artificial reef. You will wait on the shore and keep your distance.”
“I am charged with your well-being. If something should happen—”
“Ian, I have not given you reason to worry about my safety in years, and I won’t now. I am a skilled diver. I have tracking devices in my watch and my swim trunks, and no one knows our plan. I will be fine.” He hefted the bag. “Now come. I wish to see if Mademoiselle Spencer looks as good in a swimsuit as I anticipate.”
Getting practically naked with a guy on your first date certainly moved things right along, Madeline decided as she removed the lemon-yellow sundress she’d worn as a cover-up over her swimsuit and placed it on the lounge chair beside her sandals and sunglasses.
Her black bikini wasn’t nearly as skimpy as the thong suits so popular on the public beach around them. She scanned the sunbathers, shook her head and smothered a smile. The women here thought nothing of dropping their tops on the beach, but they didn’t dare lie in the sun without their jewels. Bet that makes for some interesting tan lines.
To give him credit, Damon had stalked right past the bare breasts on display without pause. When his attention turned to her, raking her from braid to garnet-red toenail polish, she said a silent thank-you for the discounted gym membership the hospital offered its employees and the sweat and weight she’d shed over the past two years. Her body was tight and toned. It hadn’t always been. But she wished Damon would lose the sunglasses. The thinning of his lips and the flare of his nostrils could signify anything from disgust to desire. She needed to see his eyes.
In the meantime, she did a little inspecting of her own as he untied the drawstring waist of the white linen pants he’d worn over his swimsuit due to Monaco’s strict rules about no beachwear, bare chests or bare feet on the streets.
Damon’s white T-shirt hugged well-developed pectorals and a flat abdomen. And then he dropped his pants.