Royal Seducer / Bossman Billionaire: Royal Seducer

If he had to choose, he would say he preferred the drawl the most. And the sassy smile that partnered with it.

At one, when he suggested they head back to the castle for lunch, she seemed genuinely disappointed to be ending the tour.

“But we didn’t see the east fields yet,” she said.

“They’re not going anywhere,” he promised. “Besides, aren’t you hungry?”

“Starved, actually.”

He walked her to the car, hand pressed gently to the small of her back. They had done an awful lot of touching all morning. A caress here, a soft touch there. The accidental brush of their shoulders, or her elbow against his arm. Or maybe it wasn’t accidental at all.

And frankly, he couldn’t wait to get her alone.

“Couldn’t we see the east fields, then have lunch?” she asked.

“I could call ahead and have the cook pack us a picnic lunch,” he suggested, knowing most women ate that romantic sort of thing up.

Her eyes lit and he knew he had her.

She smiled and said, “I suppose the east fields could wait.”

Using his cell phone, he rang the kitchen, arranging for a variety of fruit, crackers and cheese, caviar and a bottle of their best champagne to be prepared. After he hung up, he helped Melissa into the car.

When they were comfortably seated, she turned to him and said, “I get the feeling, Your Highness, that you’re trying to soften me up.”

She didn’t miss a thing. He liked that about her, and at the same time it could prove to be quite an inconvenience. Although there didn’t seem much point in denying it.

He grinned instead and asked, “Is it working?”

She returned the smile, but added a touch of sass. “Ridiculously well.”

Chris knew without a doubt that it would be a very interesting afternoon.

Chapter Six

Melissa couldn’t help but wonder if something was up. While the tour of the fields he did show her was thorough, she had the distinct impression that the foremen she’d been introduced to were on edge about something. They seemed wary of her questions, especially when she brought up the subject of the downfalls of growing organic, things like pests and disease. And it hadn’t escaped her attention that, although the east fields were the closest to the castle and had the largest of their greenhouse facilities, they were the only ones he’d chosen to skip.

That couldn’t possibly be coincidence.

There was definitely something going on, something secret, and it could be any number of things. Possibly even something illegal.

Or maybe she was letting her imagination run wild. Just because the royal family of Morgan Isle was riddled with scandal, it didn’t mean the Alexander family was as well. She would just be sure to keep her eyes open and her ears perked.

When they got back to the castle, a basket packed with everything Chris had requested was waiting for them, along with a thick, soft flannel throw to sit on.

“We could walk down to the bluff and eat by the water,” he suggested.

That sounded like a wonderful idea to her, and she couldn’t help but think that if he really was trying to soften her up, he was doing an excellent job. “I’d love to.”

“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

She took it and they walked to the bluff together, choosing a pleasant spot in the shade of a knotty old oak that looked as if it had stood on the property as long as the castle. It conveniently blocked the view from the castle windows. Which could be a good or a bad thing.

He spread out the blanket and they sat across from each other. Melissa kicked off her sandals and stretched out, breathing in the salty air, feeling the breeze ruffle her hair and hearing the rush of the ocean against the rocks below. They couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful afternoon for a picnic.

Chris popped the champagne—which sold for several hundred dollars a bottle—and poured them each a glass while she investigated the contents of the basket.

She found a box of gourmet crackers, a can of caviar, a variety of cheeses already sliced and a plastic container with different kinds of fresh fruit. “Everything looks wonderful.”

He handed her a glass of champagne and lifted his in a toast. “To new friends,” he said. “And new beginnings.”

Amen to that. She clinked her glass to his and sipped, the bubbles tickling her nose. She reached for the box of crackers and he gently pushed her hand away. “Why don’t you let me?”

He opened the caviar, spread a dollop on a cracker, and handed it to her, then fixed one for himself. She took a bite and the caviar exploded like little bombs of salty flavor across her tongue. She closed her eyes and savored the decadent sensation. “Delicious.”

“Try a strawberry. They were picked just this morning.”

He held one out to her, already hulled and cut in half, and on impulse, rather than take it with her hand, she leaned forward and took it directly into her mouth, grazing the tip of his thumb with her tongue.

The fruit was plump and juicy and sweet. She moaned and closed her eyes as another explosion of flavor overwhelmed her taste buds.

Maybe it was the atmosphere, or the company, but it was probably the tastiest thing she had ever eaten. When she opened her eyes and looked at Chris, saw the way he was watching her from under lids heavy with desire, she knew that he enjoyed her enjoying it.

“Let’s do that again,” he said. This time he chose a chunk of pineapple, and as he fed it to her, she caught his finger in her mouth to lick off the juice.

“It’s so sweet,” she said. “You should try it.”

She fished a piece out of the bowl and held it out for him. His eyes locked on hers, he leaned forward and took it from her fingers, his tongue brushing the pad of her thumb, and she went limp all over. She watched him chew, mesmerized by his mouth and his jaw and the movement of his throat as he swallowed.

He licked his lips. “Hmm, delicious.”

She wanted to try that again. This time she held out a cherry. He took it with his teeth and when the juice dripped down her finger, and he took the entire thing into his mouth, sucking it clean.

Oh. My. God.

He grinned, a lazy, sexy smile, and said, “Tasty.”

His lips looked so full and inviting, tinted pink from the cherry juice, that she couldn’t resist leaning in for a taste. And though the kiss was meant to be a brief one, he hooked a hand behind her head, tangling his fingers through the silky locks of her hair, and pulled her closer.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into the long, lean length of his body, and a low moan rumbled in his throat. He broke the kiss and gazed down at her, eyes glazed and half-closed. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

She knew exactly what she was doing. “You like it?”

He took her hand and placed it palm down on his chest, so she could feel the heavy thump-thump of his heart. “What do you think?”

She slipped her hand inside the collar of his shirt and touched his bare skin. “Then maybe we should do it some more.”

He reached for her, but she pushed him backward onto the blanket instead, moving the food containers aside so she could scoot closer.

He reached up with one hand to brush her hair back from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I thought I was supposed to be seducing you.”

She leaned down, brushed her lips against his, whispered against them, “That’s not my style.”

His arms went around her and he pulled her down for a deep, searching kiss. He tasted sweet and salty and even more delicious than the food. She fed off his mouth, feeling as though she could eat him up. His hands were on her face and in her hair, stroking her shoulders and her back. She may have been the one seducing him, but he was definitely in on the action. When he rolled her over onto the blanket she didn’t try to stop him. She opened her eyes to find him propped up on one elbow, grinning down at her.

“I’m supposed to be seducing you,” she reminded him. “That’s harder to do from down here.”

“Sorry, love. That’s not my style, either.”

**********

Well, someone was going to have to relinquish control. “I think this could be a problem.”

He shrugged. “So don’t think.”

She was poised for another snappy comeback, but before she could get the words out he was kissing her again, and she completely forget what she’d been about to say. In fact, she forgot everything but the feel of his mouth on hers, and his hands on her body. She wished they were in the castle, in her bedroom, where their clothes wouldn’t have to be in the way.

He kissed her chin, down her throat and she let her head fall back against the blanket. He kissed lower still, across her collarbone, over the swell of her cleavage, whispering sweet words, telling her she was beautiful.

They may have only been words, but he wielded them skillfully and they cut through her defenses like the lethally sharp blade of a gilded sword.

Through a haze of desire, she gradually became aware of a presence beside them. She felt something warm and damp and foul-smelling against her cheek.

Dog breath, she realized.

She opened her eyes to find a small, canine face not an inch from her own. One of those cute little yappy dogs that people like Paris Hilton carted around with them, with bulging eyes and long, ginger-colored hair tied up with a blue ribbon.

“Well, hello there,” she said, and he or she let out an excited yap, which had Chris looking up from Melissa’s cleavage.

He cursed under his breath and said, “Get lost, Muffin.”

Such an adorable name coming from a big tough prince like him made her laugh. “You named your dog Muffin?”

“It’s not my dog.” He sat up and shooed the furry invader away, which only made it jump around and yap excitedly. “He’s Louisa’s bag of fleas.”

“He’s so cute!” She sat up beside Chris and held out a hand for Muffin to sniff. He sniffed daintily, then lapped at her fingers with his tiny pink tongue. “Aren’t you just a sweetheart?”

From a distance, behind the tree somewhere Melissa heard Louisa call out, “Muffin! Here, boy!”

Muffin’s ears perked and he let out a short yap, as if to say “Here I am!”

“Shoo,” Chris said. “Go get her.”

Muffin didn’t budge.

“Over here!” Melissa called to Louisa, and Chris cursed again, but at this point an interruption seemed inevitable. She just hoped her hair wasn’t too much of a mess, or her makeup smeared. Though she was sure Chris has kissed away whatever had been left of her lip gloss.

Louisa rounded the tree, looking young and fresh in white capri pants and a pink blouse. Her hair looked soft and cute pulled back in a low bun. She was graceful and petite, almost to the point of looking fragile.

When she saw the three of them there—Chris, Melissa and Muffin—she smiled. Then she pointed a finger at her dog and said sternly, “Bad boy, Muffin. You know you’re not supposed to run off like that.”

“He’s so cute,” Melissa told her.

“I hope he’s not bothering you.”

Melissa said “no,” and Chris said “yes” simultaneously. Melissa gave his shoulder a light shove and told Louisa, “He’s not bothering us at all. Is he a shih tzu?”

“Purebred.” Louisa said proudly, scooping him up and tucking him into the crook of her arm. “He probably smelled the food. He’s a little eating machine. I swear, he’s part pig.”

“Would you like to join us?” Melissa asked, in part to be polite, but also because they had hardly eaten a thing and she hated to see all of that food go to waste.

Louisa opened her mouth to answer but Chris interrupted her. “Actually, we were just getting ready to pack up. Melissa was just saying how tired she is from her trip yesterday, and that she’d like to take a nap. I was going to walk her back to her room.”

Oh, yes, that fifteen-minute plane ride from Morgan Isle was absolutely exhausting. Although she was pretty sure that napping was the last thing he had on his mind.

“The nap can wait,” she said.

“No,” Chris insisted, spearing her with a sharp look. “I don’t think it can. We wouldn’t want you to get too tired.”

“That’s okay,” Louisa said. “Muffin and I are going to take a walk.” She smiled brightly and told Melissa, “Have a good rest.”

Either she hadn’t recognized the innuendo in the nap scenario, or she was just polite enough not to let on. Either way, she waved good-bye and walked off with Muffin trailing obediently while Melissa and Chris gathered the leftover food and packed it back into the basket.

“A nap, huh?” she said.

He grinned. “Yeah. You look exhausted.”

“She’s very sweet, isn’t she?” Melissa asked. “Louisa, I mean.”

“Yes.” His brow tucked into a frown. “Far too sweet for her own good.”

“I get the impression she’s a bit…naive.”

“More than a bit.” He closed the basket, then rose to his feet and shook out the blanket. “I fear someday someone will take advantage of that. And I think we’ve only perpetuated the problem by sheltering her.”

“She may be tougher than you think.”

“I hope so.” He folded the blanket, grabbed the basket, then held out an arm for her to take, flashing one of those sizzling smiles. “Shall I walk you back for that nap?”

She wrapped her arm tightly through his and pressed herself against his side, smiling up at him. “The sooner the better.”

She doubted it would be restful, but it would probably be the most pleasurable nap she’d ever taken.

Chris dropped the basket in the kitchen on the way in and led Melissa upstairs to her room. The halls were blissfully silent, and thankfully they didn’t run into anyone on the way up. Not that it would have stopped Chris from going into her room. He’d have fabricated some reason they needed to be alone.

If Louisa hadn’t interrupted them, he might have made love to Melissa right there on the blanket under the tree, the consequences be damned. Everything about her was so sweet and soft and sexy. He might not have been able to stop himself. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t have put up much resistance, it was obvious she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

They were mere steps from her door, and Chris was already plotting just how he would get her out of her clothes, when a bodyguard named Flynn caught up with them.

“Sorry to interrupt, sire,” he said, bowing his head to both Chris and Melissa. “Prince Aaron is looking for you.”

Yeah, well, Prince Aaron was going to have to wait. “Tell him that I’ll speak with him later.”

“He said it’s urgent,” Flynn insisted. “Regarding the matter this morning, with the e-mail.”

“Right!” Chris said, before the man said too much and piqued Melissa’s curiosity. Aaron had obviously discovered something important. “Where is he?”

“The tech office, your highness.”

“Fine, tell him I’ll be right down.” When he was gone, Chris turned to Melissa. “I’m sorry. I need to take care of this.”

“Trouble getting your e-mail?” she teased.

If only it were that simple. “A security issue,” he said, not wanting to give any more than that away.

“It’s all right. I actually am a little tired. Maybe I’ll lie down for a while.” She grinned. “Reserve my strength for later.”

“I’ll try to make it quick.”

She rose up on her toes and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips, and it took everything in him not to say to hell with it and back her into her room. But he didn’t want to feel rushed. When he made love to Melissa, he was going to take his time. With this security thing hanging over his head, he would be distracted.

“You know where to find me,” she said, then she slipped into her room and closed the door.

Bloody hell. He lingered another second, tempted to follow her in, then he forced himself to turn and head down to the tech office, hoping Aaron had answers and they could wrap this up quickly. But the instant he stepped inside and saw the look of concern on Aaron’s face, he knew this was going to take a while.

Chapter Seven

Chris stepped into the tech office and closed the door. “I’m guessing the news isn’t good.”

“Good guess,” Aaron said.

The systems administrator, Dennis Attenborough—though everyone called him by his hacker name, Datt—gazed grimly at his computer screen. “This guy knows what he’s doing.”

“Guy?” Chris asked.

Datt shrugged. “Guy, girl, whatever.”

“So we don’t know who it is?”

“No, but statistically, most hackers are men.”

“Whoever it is,” Aaron said, “they managed to hack into the e-mail system undetected.”

That wasn’t good. “Were any other systems breached?”

Datt shook his head. “Nothing critical.”

“Can you trace the ISP?”

“As I said, he knows what he’s doing. He was in and out like a ghost. Completely untraceable.”

“Could it be someone on the inside?”

“It’s possible, but I doubt it.”

“Could it happen again?”

“With any luck, yes.”

At Chris’s surprised look, Aaron told him, “Datt is setting a trap.”

“How do you trap someone who sneaks in and out undetected?”

“You put out a net,” Datt said.

“A net?”

“Think of it like a spiderweb,” Datt told him. “If he gets back in, he’ll get stuck. Although odds are he won’t try it again.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s smart. He’ll anticipate our next move.”

“Meaning he’ll just give up?”

“Or try to find another way in, through a different system.”

Bloody fantastic. “Will he get in?”

Datt looked up at him. “No, sire, he won’t.”

“See that he doesn’t. And if you learn anything, I want to be informed immediately.”

“Of course.”

With a jerk of his head, Chris gestured his brother into the hallway. When they were alone, he said in a low voice, “We need to keep this to ourselves.”

“The staff has been advised that the king should be left out of the loop. Although if he does find out, he’ll be furious.”

“Then we’ll make sure that he doesn’t. With any luck we’ve heard the last of this.”

Somehow, Chris doubted they would get away that easy.

Melissa checked her e-mail, then fired off a quick message to Phillip, giving him a rundown on her day so far. Almost immediately a reply appeared in her inbox. It said simply:

Keep me posted.

Nice to hear from you, too, she thought. Though she wasn’t the least bit surprised.

There was another e-mail, one from Chris that she had received early that morning. That was sweet, she thought. It read:

Meet me in the maze.

Midnight.

She smiled, and wondered exactly what he had in mind. If he would let her find her own way through this time, or send her on another wild-goose chase. Or it was possible he had other plans for her that didn’t involve the maze at all?

She replied, I’ll be there.

She hit Send, then shut down her computer.

She stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes. She would rest for just a few minutes, then maybe take a walk in the garden until Chris had finished with his business. When she opened her eyes again, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling down at her.

She sat up, hazy and disoriented. The curtains were drawn and the room dark. She couldn’t tell if it was morning or night. “What time is it?”

“Seven,” he said. “It’s time for dinner.”

“How long have you been sitting here?” She hoped she hadn’t done anything embarrassing, like snore or drool on the pillow.

“Only a few minutes.”

She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Did you just finish your meeting?”

“Hours ago. I came by to see you, but you were sound asleep.”

“You could have woken me.”

He shrugged. “I figured you could use the rest.”

“For our date tonight?”

“Date?”

“I answered your e-mail,” she said. “I guess you didn’t get it yet.”

There was a flicker of emotion in his eyes, something that looked almost like apprehension, then it was gone. “You got an e-mail from me?”

He didn’t remember? “Well, I assumed it was from you. Your name was on it.”

“Refresh my memory. What did it say?”

“‘Meet me at the maze. Midnight.’”

He nodded slowly. “Oh, yes, right.”

How could he not remember? It was only this morning. “Is something wrong?”

“This is going to sound a little strange, but would you show me?”

“The e-mail?”

He nodded.

Something was definitely not right here. “Of course.”

She walked over to the desk where her laptop sat. She opened it and booted it up. Chris averted his eyes while she typed in her password, then she opened her e-mail program and scrolled down to find the message from him. “Here it is.”

He leaned over her shoulder to read it, brow furrowed with concern.

“Isn’t that your e-mail address?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, sounding somewhat grim. “It is.”

There was only one explanation for his behavior. “You didn’t send that, did you?”

He hesitated, then said, “It’s complicated.”

That was a non-answer if she’d ever heard one. “Does it have to do with your e-mail security issues?”

“It’s just a prank. I can’t say more than that. Rest assured, there’s no reason to be concerned.”

If that was true, why did he look so concerned?

“Seems weird that whoever sent it would choose the maze as a meeting place,” she said. “It’s almost as though they saw us out there last night.”

She could tell by his disturbed expression that he was thinking the same thing.

“You think it’s someone on the inside?” she asked.

“I really can’t say.”

She wondered if that meant he couldn’t tell her, or he didn’t know.

“Would you mind if I forwarded this to our systems administrator?” he asked.

She stepped away from the computer and gestured him over. “Knock yourself out.”

He hit Forward, typed in the e-mail address, then sent it off. He turned to look at her. “I’m not sure how to word this, so I’m just going to say it. I would appreciate your discretion on this.”

“As in, don’t go running to my family with this?”

“Yes, that, too…” He raked a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath.

“What?”

“Please don’t say anything to my parents. Specifically, the king.”

“He doesn’t know?”

He shook his head. “As I said, it’s complicated.”

“Is it his health?”

Her question seemed to surprise him, and she could see she’d hit a nerve. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a fairly intelligent woman, Chris. I’d have to be daft or blind not to notice the way everyone pampers him. The logical explanation would be that he’s in poor health.”

He didn’t seem to know how to answer that.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said. “I have a tendency to let my mouth run away from me.”

He seemed to choose his next words very carefully. “It’s just that it’s a…sensitive issue.”

Heaven knew, her family had its share of sensitive issues, too. “I haven’t said anything to my family, and I won’t. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I appreciate that.”

“If you ever need someone to talk to, to vent to—”

“It’s congestive heart failure,” Chris said, and his honesty surprised her. It seemed to surprise him, too. Maybe he did just need someone to talk to.

“And the prognosis?” she asked.

“Not good. At the present rate he’s deteriorating, six months. Maybe a year.”

Oh, how terrible. No wonder they wanted to keep it a secret. “What about a transplant?”

“He has a very rare blood type. The chances of finding a match are astronomical.”

She could see that he loved his father very much, and the idea of losing him hurt Chris deeply.