Claiming The Royal Innocent. Jennifer HaywardЧитать онлайн книгу.
when the blue-gowned angel had swanned up to the doors of the ballroom and announced herself as Kara Nicholson, he thought he’d been hallucinating after almost thirty-six hours without sleep. The Kara Nicholson he’d divested of her clothes before he’d taken her in a long, hot encounter in Vegas six months ago, the Kara Nicholson known to travel in Stella’s circles, was not the brunette standing in front of him.
With her near-angelic look—all big blue eyes and long, satiny dark hair—she hardly seemed the type to be one of Carnelia’s spies or, God forbid, worse. But nothing could be discounted in this time of tension—spies had been pinpointed; separatist factions had emerged—and considering that a satellite company of his was in charge of security tonight, he wasn’t taking any chances.
He studied the nerves the beautiful brunette was clearly fighting despite her attempt at outward composure. She had come alone, hadn’t attempted to talk to anyone, clearly knew no one here. The only person she had shown an interest in, other than the fleeting glances she’d been sending his way as an immediate attraction had sparked between them, had been the king. She had been inordinately interested in his whereabouts ever since she’d arrived.
It was possible she was simply one of those women who couldn’t seem to accept that King Nikandros was happily married. There were enough of them around. Perhaps a jilted ex-lover? It would fit with the lost look she had at the moment...the inherent aura of vulnerability that surrounded her.
She sensed his perusal. Turned her chin to meet his gaze. The confusion, the anxiety in her beautiful blue eyes, stoked his curiosity higher. Confusion that quickly morphed into the unmistakable interest he’d seen there before. He held her gaze. Sustained the connection. Electricity arced between them, a rosy pink staining her cheeks.
Dipping her chin, she broke the contact first in one of those shy gestures that didn’t seem to fit with the sexy image. A plus B plus C wasn’t adding up.
His curiosity got the better of him. Downing his last swallow of scotch, he set the glass on a table and headed toward her. He’d played games he’d enjoyed far less than the one he was playing now. This could prove highly enjoyable.
* * *
Thee mou. He was headed over here.
Alex swallowed hard, wondering what on earth she was doing. She was here to talk to her father, to know him before he died, not flirt with the most strikingly good-looking male she’d ever seen, in a tuxedo or out of one. Yet he had been staring at her, making no effort to hide his interest. Difficult to ignore, particularly since every time she worked up the courage to speak to King Nikandros, he had moved on to another group.
Meanwhile, doubts were piling up about whether it had been an extremely bad idea to choose this party as the venue for her mission as the king glittered as an untouchable force. Would her father even want to see her? Would he even care she existed? Would he toss her out without acknowledging her?
Her ruminations were interrupted by the scent of expensive aftershave, followed by the man who wore it. He was tall, well over six feet, his height backed up by the lean, hard-packed muscle that covered every inch of him. With his dark-as-sin eyes and designer stubble, he made every other man in the room look effeminate in comparison.
Undeniably intimidating. Insanely attractive.
“I was standing over there wondering why a beautiful woman finds herself alone throwing back champagne like water.” The rich, velvety undertone to his voice stoked every nerve ending to full attention. “Rather than allow my imagination to conjure up all sorts of creative possibilities, I thought I would simply come over and ask.”
Her eyes slid to her empty glass. “It’s only my second.”
“In rapid succession.” He swept his dark gaze over her in a perusal that scorched her skin. “To provide courage perhaps?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulders. “Why would I need courage?”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “You tell me. You are here alone. Perhaps that makes you feel uncomfortable?”
Very. She lifted a shoulder in what she hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “I have business to attend to. It’s not so much a social occasion for me.”
“Business at a birthday party? How distasteful.”
“A personal matter.”
He inclined his head. “Perhaps you could combine your personal matter with a little...pleasure. I find myself at loose ends.”
She suspected this man hadn’t spent one second of his life at loose ends, but his sexy drawl had the intended effect, tangling her up inside.
“You look quite comfortable at loose ends.”
“I prefer to find a...diversion. And you,” he said, holding her gaze, “are the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Her stomach flip-flopped, a wave of betraying heat rising from her chest to fill her cheeks. “Hardly true. The princess is hosting, after all.”
“She has a layer of ice that surrounds her. You do not.”
Alex swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat, finding herself unable to pull her gaze away from his smoky, sexy one. “I’m afraid I’m not available as a diversion.”
“Because you are here for someone else?”
“Because I really must see who I need to see, then go.”
“One dance.” He held out a lean-fingered, bronzed hand. “Then you can get on with your business.”
He made it seem rude, impolite to refuse. Over his shoulder, she could see the king and queen still immersed in conversation. Perhaps it would be better to say yes to a dance rather than stand around at loose ends looking painfully out of place as she clearly had been.
“All right,” she said, placing her palm in his much larger one. “I would love to.”
He wrapped his fingers around hers. “Aristos,” he drawled. “And you are...?”
Her brain froze, her clear thinking not aided by the two glasses of champagne she’d consumed. “Kara,” she said after a pause. Better to continue the facade.
Not that it was easy to keep anything straight in her head with the energy that pulsed between them, moving from his fingers through her body until she was buzzing with the intensity of it.
His tall, impressive physique parted the crowds easily as he led her toward the dance floor, where a live band was playing a slow, sexy jazz number.
Aristos laced his fingers through hers, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into a close hold that had her pulse racing. His smooth, skillful steps as he directed her around the packed space surprised her for such a solidly built male.
“So,” he said, leveling his gaze on her face, “how do you know the princess?”
Her stomach seized. A natural question, she told herself. Relax.
“We’re friends,” she said, repeating what Kara had told her. “We’re on a few of the same charitable boards.”
He inclined his head. “And what do you do when you aren’t tending to these...charitable endeavors?”
She blinked. Thought furiously. But a few scattered conversations with Kara hadn’t provided that depth of information. “Mostly that,” she murmured awkwardly. “My father has a large philanthropic portfolio. He needs the help.”
“And where is home?”
“Texas,” she said faintly, as if that would make up for her lack of a drawl.
“Funny, you don’t sound like a Southerner.”
Her mouth went even drier. Diavole, but this had been a bad idea. “I think I’ve lost my accent,” she prevaricated. “I travel so much I’ve become somewhat...international.”