The Royal House of Karedes: One Family: Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress / The Desert King's Housekeeper Bride / Wedlocked: Banished Sheikh, Untouched Queen

‘It is a bit ridiculous.’ She looked rueful.

‘No.’ He shook his head at her, grinning widely. ‘It’s nice. It’s a nice thing to do. My mother does a lot of charity work but I don’t think she’s ever clipped someone’s toenails for them.’

‘No? She’s obviously not supporting the right ones.’ Liss twinkled. ‘What does she support?’

James shrugged, already regretting thinking of her, mentioning her. ‘Whichever is flavour of the day.’ The heaviness returned like a bad hangover.

Liss was looking expectant, waiting for more—all the way down in the lift.

‘She’s on a million committees.’ He eventually broadened—briefly. But he couldn’t hide the sarcastic undertone. ‘She keeps busy. She likes to be seen to be active on that circuit.’ Outward appearances were everything after all.

Liss kept pace with him to the car, pressed him right on the button. ‘You’re not close?’

He really regretted mentioning her. ‘Not really.’

Not at all. It might have all fallen apart that day in his last year of school, when he’d come home early on a study break. His mother had come downstairs in a hurry. And then that guy had appeared—walking slowly, and so damn arrogantly down the stairs. She’d said he was there to talk about finances for one of her charities. And that needed to happen upstairs where the bedrooms were? What did they think he was, stupid?

He was conscious of Liss’s intense scrutiny as he loaded her bag into the boot of the car. Finally he felt compelled to fill the silence she was making so obvious. So he shrugged again. ‘You know. Mothers.’

He started the car. Hoped this bit of the conversation was over.

‘No.’ Liss shook her head. ‘I wasn’t close to either of my parents. We had a succession of nannies and then it was boarding school.’

James glanced at her, interest piqued. That must have been weird. Up until he’d discovered his mum’s affair, life had been pretty sweet in his home, whereas Liss had always had it crazy. ‘What about your sister?’

Her smile was soft. ‘We’re close. Different, but close. Kitty might be older but she’s more vulnerable—she always has her nose in a book and her head in the clouds.’

Clearly Liss thought she was the more streetwise. James grinned. ‘So you kept an eye out for her, huh?’

‘Of course.’

So who kept an eye out for Liss, then? ‘What about your brothers?’

‘I’m not that close to them either.’

‘Why is that?’ Thinking about it he’d never heard Alex say much about his youngest sister. All he’d said was that she was unmanageable and he needed her off the island while the succession was sorted out. It struck James that Liss wasn’t really that unmanageable at all. And as to the question as to who was more vulnerable—James thought maybe he should reserve judgment.

‘Just different I guess.’ She shrugged. ‘I have some really great friends though.’

Did she? Really?

‘What about your dad?’ Liss turned the spotlight back on him. ‘Are you close to him?’

James pressed a little harder on the accelerator. His mother had put a barrier between him and his father. In some ways he found that even more unforgivable. To tell, or not to tell? He’d been burdened with that dilemma for too long—until the day he’d found out he was just as stupid as his dad.

‘More so in recent years.’ Now he had more in common with his dad than he’d ever wanted. Learnt the hard way not to be so scathing of his father’s blindness, and had developed some empathy.

He had to pull over then to let her out. He hoisted the case out of the boot and set it down for her. ‘Have fun with all those toes.’

She flicked her fingers and he watched her go in. Her hair swung side to side in the simple ponytail as she wheeled her case behind her. If she was wearing make-up he couldn’t tell. But, hell, she was beautiful.

He didn’t go to work. He sat at a café, had three coffees and brooded, staring out the windows at the passers-by. He carefully avoided all the glossy mags stacked at the end of the counter. Having the moment his lover betrayed him with another man caught on film and printed in every magazine there was had put him off them. It wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat. Besides, he didn’t want to see the all-glam Princess Elissa in them today; he’d rather see her as she was at this moment—fresh and relaxed.

When he pulled up at the house a couple of hours later they were all sitting on the veranda outside, legs outstretched—drying toenails presumably. He smothered the chuckle. It was quite a sight.

‘Liss, your boyfriend-bodyguard-boss is here.’

Liss rolled her eyes. ‘Couple of weeks this time, girls.’And smiled away the chorus of disappointment.

The drive home was quick, she quietly chatted, told him a little about a couple of the girls. It wasn’t until they were in the lift that he looked down and noticed her feet. Every toe was painted a different colour—an array of shimmer, gloss and matte.

‘Like the rainbow look.’ He winked.

She laughed. ‘They wanted to see what they were like on so they could choose.’

He dropped to his knees. ‘I like that one best.’ He tweaked the crimson-tipped fourth toe on her left foot. Hell, even her toes were beautiful.

‘Twist of Temptation. Good choice,’ she said lightly and moved her foot away.

The lift doors opened as he stood, and then he noticed the pink splotches on her chest, saw the way her breathing had quickened. He moved, made the doors stay open by standing between them.

‘Not going to reciprocate the coffee this week?’ As if he needed more. He already had the shakes, or maybe that was just from the way she was wearing those jeans and the way she was so obviously affected.

‘I… um…’

The pink tinges over her skin darkened and he fought hard to quell the urge to reach out and smooth across it, to trace down the path beneath the tee shirt and find out what other parts of her body were reddened. He badly wanted to touch, to taste, to…

‘That’s OK. You’re right. It’s not a good idea. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.’ He spoke quickly, stepped back into the lift and jabbed at the ‘close doors’ button with a tightly clenched fist, before he did something he was sure to regret.

Liss’s sense of anticipation as she got to work on Monday was at a ridiculous level. She couldn’t wait to get on with the rest of the party plans and she hardly dared admit to herself how much she was looking forward to seeing James again. The drive to and from Atlanta House on Saturday had been such an eye-opener. Seeing him laugh like that, seeing him in those jeans, unshaven, relaxed—no distance, no disapproval, only warmth in those eyes. Sure, he’d got touchy when she’d asked about his parents, but for once that had only made him seem more human.

It had almost wiped out the hurt from his words of the night before. It almost made her wonder whether, if it weren’t for the raging lust she felt for him, he’d make a great friend. Someone to laugh with, someone to listen to, someone to lean on. But the attraction between them meant a pure friendship was impossible. And it was clear he as much as she was working hard not to act on that attraction. She wondered why. And most of all, she wondered how long they could keep up the fight.

She’d only been at her desk for a few minutes before Katie came up to drop the papers in. She gave Liss a coy look. ‘You and James looked like you were enjoying that art gallery do the other night.’

‘You were there?’

Katie’s laugh was more of a snort. ‘Hardly.’

‘Oh—’

‘The picture in the paper—haven’t you seen it?’

Liss shook her head, heart heading south. ‘I don’t tend to look.’

‘You should—you’re always in them, looking gorgeous.’ The receptionist smiled again, but Liss worried that it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘The two of you looked pretty intense.’

She’d look at it in a moment—in private. She said nothing, already certain Katie’s mind was going in directions Liss didn’t want.

‘How’s the party planning going?’ Katie asked. ‘Lucky you getting to do that.’

It was a no-brainer to see where she was driving—just as Liss had expected. Her defences rose immediately. Great, Katie, and probably the rest of the staff, thought she’d got the fun job by having a fling with the boss. An open denial would be futile. Katie and the others would believe what they wanted to—Liss knew the truth was irrelevant. When it came to reputation versus reality, people always preferred the juicier option.

‘I guess he asked me to do it because I know Aristo so well.’

‘Yeah.’ Katie’s smile was sharp and her eyes full of scepticism. ‘I guess.’

The second she’d gone, Liss rifled through the papers. The photo was of their profiles. She and James face to face. Full colour and, as Katie had said, intense. Eyes nowhere but on each other.

This was no way to keep speculation at bay and it made her even more determined to keep her distance. But she felt torn because, despite the words of Friday night, on Saturday they’d laughed together. Really laughed. And it had been so nice she wanted more. But already there was talk and she would not have all her hard work jeopardised. She wanted to succeed—on her own and have that achievement recognised. She was going to have to fight the attraction harder.

He still hadn’t appeared by lunchtime. Mid-afternoon she phoned down to Katie. ‘Do you know where James is?’

‘In Melbourne,’ came the slightly tart reply. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘No.’ Liss hoped that her lack of knowledge of his trip might score her some points in the credibility stakes. Just so long as the sharp disappointment she’d felt hadn’t registered in her voice. And she didn’t want to ask when he was due back for fear Katie would misconstrue the interest.

The next few days sped in a flurry of organisation and mild panic. She fired an email to Cassie via Sebastian, giving her travel details. Cassie wasn’t coming to the ball—with all the hoopla surrounding Sebastian’s abdication the last thing they wanted was to be out at the mercy of the gossipy Aristan socialites. None of the others were going either—there was too much going on, with Alex on the hunt for the diamond and the succession so uncertain. Liss would be the only royal present. Liss understood why, but she would have loved to have had a friendly face there. And it would have been great to have someone see her success. But it wasn’t to be. Hopefully she’d have time to meet up with Cassie in the days after.

So on she worked, finalising details, checking, double-checking that everything she’d planned would result in perfection. And as every day passed the anticipation, the adrenalin, built in her body—more and more, until finally she felt unable to sleep, unable to eat. She missed him. Every day she came into work hoping he’d be there, fighting the disappointment when he wasn’t. Hope then built again—that he might appear during the day. She was turning into a scatterbrained mess and she had to find some method of release. Finally she fell back on her all-time favourite way of letting off steam—she’d go dancing.

After seeing the photo in the paper of the two of them at the art gallery, James delayed his return to Sydney until the afternoon before they were scheduled to fly to Aristo. He could no longer trust himself not to give into temptation and he didn’t want to risk being recorded by some paparazzi. Getting snapped with her a second time would lead to serious speculation in the tabloids—they’d blow it way out of proportion. As it was he knew there’d be some questioning looks in his office. He told himself he could cope with that, but only on his terms—and privacy was one of them. The humiliation of Jenny’s so very public betrayal had been enough. If they were to deal with this, they would, but no one would know. And until then, physical distance was the only answer.

Landing back in Sydney and getting to the office late, he found the staff had left for the day. But he knew he couldn’t go another night without seeing her. He headed out to the usual nightspots—eventually finding her down on the dance floor of one of them.

He couldn’t stop going nearer to her, watching her over the balcony area above. As she swayed to the relentless rhythm of the bass he tried to control his body’s basic reaction. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth so hard. All he could think about was that kiss—where he’d been singed and his hands still hurt from not holding her. He badly wanted a repeat. He’d known it would be good. He hadn’t known it would go ballistic. And he refused to believe it had been ‘just’ a kiss for her too. The way she looked at him, the awareness in her body, the way she flushed if he got too close—she was totally strung out.

Good. Because so was he.

He was sick of this heavy sense of foreboding. Desire was driving him now—his arms were empty and aching. The urge to haul her close was overwhelming and he knew he couldn’t fight it any more.

He glanced around the room. Saw many others watching her too. She was dancing with a group of girls—all of them attractive, but it was Liss that the crowd was watching, the one who many were wanting.

He knew what he was getting himself into. He wouldn’t invest any emotion. It would be purely physical. It wouldn’t take much to make the flame burn out. A fast and furious glow and it would be over.

It was different from Jenny because this time he had his eyes wide open. He already knew not to trust Liss. She wasn’t about to be hurt—she’d find some other beau before James would have the chance to blink. He gritted his teeth harder at the wave of rage that rose with that thought. Damn it, he had to control that. And he decided the only way was to give her an experience she’d never forget—make sure it was so damn good she’d be ruined for the next guy. Because there would be a next guy. It was only a matter of time. For women like Liss, one lover would never be enough.

He watched her dance for another moment, but couldn’t take it any more. He walked out without saying hello to anyone.

They were flying out to Aristo tomorrow. Just the two of them. There would be no observers, no paparazzi on the plane. Just him, just her. And it was time to fight the fire with fire.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘LATE night, Liss?’

Hiding behind her large dark glasses, she took the hint of disapproval on the chin. After her nil response they rode to the airport in silence but the atmosphere was thick with swirling heat. She stared out the window, not able to cope with seeing James as well as having him up close in the back of the taxi. He was looking too gorgeous in a white cotton tee that wasn’t too tight, but tight enough to show off that broad chest and long arms, jeans that were a relaxed fit but with enough shape to make her appreciate the length of his legs and the hint of their concealed power. She badly, badly wanted to touch.

They cruised through check-in and waited in the club lounge for a few minutes before getting the call to board. She gripped her small flight bag and walked ahead so she wouldn’t have to see any longer how well he filled out those jeans.

She’d danced and danced on into the night—needing to burn the energy. Now she was tired and strung out and he wasn’t helping because every time she glanced at him he met her gaze with a smile that set her every cell singing.

She stepped into the cabin with relief. First class wasn’t usually fully booked and she planned to stretch out and enjoy the space. She fussed about, unloading a few essentials from her bag into the compartment by her seat: her own water, her warm wool socks, her vial of refreshingly scented oil—the little things she needed to make the journey as relaxing as possible. Then she realised that James was standing right behind her, patiently watching, waiting—for what? She raised her brows—hoping it looked like a cool question.

He flashed the charm smile. ‘Actually the window seat is mine.’

She checked her ticket quickly. Damn. Her consternation must have been obvious because his smile widened with wicked humour.

‘Don’t you want to sit next to me?’

The flush flooded her—she could feel it all the way from her face to her toes, and she wondered how he’d react if she answered honestly. She wanted to sit on him, not next to him. She wanted to straddle his strong, heavy thighs—to feel the muscle-filled denim on her bare skin. She wanted to slide her fingers beneath that white tee shirt and feel for herself the heat of his chest—was it hair-tickled or smooth? Was it as bronzed as his arms or was it paler, less kissed by the sun… ? Kissed… oh, hell, she was in trouble.

‘But you can have the window if you like.’ The lights in his eyes were brightening, the smile widening.

‘You’re sure?’ She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop sounding like a breathless temp offered the long-term placement of a lifetime.

‘I’ve already got a beautiful view.’

OK. Deep breath—and time to get a grip on the situation. She stayed standing.

‘Take it.’

‘You’re the boss,’ she said, to remind herself as much as anything.

‘And you’re the princess,’ he said. ‘Interesting power play, isn’t it? Who do you think should be on top?’

She sat in an awful hurry. On top? He wanted to debate positions? She tried to think of a witty reply—hell, any sort of reply. ‘You said my being a princess wouldn’t garner me any special treatment.’

‘Right.’ He sat next to her and leaned close, continuing with the chatty tone that softened the underlying determined quality. ‘And just because I’m the boss doesn’t mean I should get any either. Not in this arena.’

‘What arena’s that?’ He was all she could see—his large body screened the rest of the cabin from her. It was as if they were in their own little corner of the plane and he was shielding her from all observers.

‘The personal one.’

‘We’re talking personal?’

‘Come on, princess, we’ve barely talked anything else.’ His eyes held hers, daring her to be honest. ‘Have we?’

She paused, looked down as she clicked her safety belt in place. ‘You’re the one who said it’s not a good idea, James.’

‘You said it too. And we’re both right. It’s probably really stupid.’ He tilted her chin with his fingers, making her look at him again, making her active in the conversation, making her skin sizzle. ‘But it also seems to be impossible to ignore.’

His touch both soothed and rasped over her stretched nerves. She moved her head enough to make him release her, but maintained the eye contact—she had the feeling he wouldn’t settle for less.

‘So,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s talk personal.’

The engines of the plane revved and she felt the situation slipping from her control. She fought to reclaim it. ‘Are you sure this is the right place?’

‘Why not?’ The glints in his eye spiked. ‘We have a number of hours to fill in. What else do you suggest we do?’

They stared at each other and in the darkness of his eyes she saw all her wild fantasies reflected—of closeness and warmth, of sighs and the sound of them slipping together, of naked sensation. Until finally she ducked away from his gaze in heated defeat, closing her eyes as the plane gained enough speed to lift off from the ground.

It was only when the plane levelled out high in the sky, that she expelled the breath she’d been holding and replied, ‘Talking is good.’

She couldn’t join him as he chuckled. This wasn’t that funny for her—it was full on. But OK. He wanted to talk personal? Maybe she’d take the opportunity to do some digging—she had a few questions she’d like answered. ‘Do you ever really have a good time, James?’

He sobered instantly and placed his hand over hers. She had to concentrate extra hard to listen for the answer and not let her brain go fuzzy from the body contact.

‘What do you mean by that?’ He sounded surprised.

‘You’re never really in the gossip pages of the papers or magazines—even though your family is almost as well known in Sydney as mine is on Aristo. And sometimes you don’t look like you’re having so much fun.’

‘How do I look?’

She thought for a moment and then opted for the truth. ‘Intense.’ And definitely brooding. There had been times when she’d seen the serious look descend over the charming features and she figured he was thinking about something—some sort of bother. Was it work or was it a woman?

His voice was low and gently mocked. ‘I know how to have a good time, princess.’ He shot her a look that made her more than aware of the kind of fun he was thinking of right now.

Fantasies of dark nights swirled in her head once more.

‘Just because you like to party on the pages of the gossip magazines doesn’t mean the rest of us have to. I don’t need publicity to prove what a good time I’m having.’ His fingers tightened, stopping her from withdrawing her hand. ‘I prefer to keep my wild times private, not have them dissected in the papers.’

That one really rankled. It was one thing that her brothers really frowned on. It had been OK for them to get up to whatever in the good old days, but the minute there was wind of a story on her they came down hard. She curled her fingers away from his.

‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read.’

His expression darkened. ‘Really?’ He smoothed the palm of his hand along the ridge of her fist.

Liss watched as exactly the intense brooding look she’d meant descended on his features. Then she watched him take a deliberately deep breath, visibly aiming to relax. ‘Actually, I’ve been wondering about one salacious detail for some time.’

She raised a brow and tried to look as if she didn’t care that much. The papers wrote an awful lot of rubbish—recycled pictures and added tired old quotes from people she’d never met.

He leaned towards her, voice lowered. ‘Whether it’s true you usually go without underwear in your trademark slinky party dresses.’

She couldn’t help the smile at that, a bubble of laughter stirred and her flirt mood revived. ‘That’s for me to know.’ She couldn’t resist throwing him the challenge. ‘Think you’re going to find out?’

‘I’d be willing to bet on it.’ He shot the answer straight back.

It almost stopped her—but not quite. ‘I’m not a betting woman.’

‘Wise girl. In your shoes I wouldn’t be either.’ He grinned wickedly, reminding her of their race the other week. ‘Who’d be fool enough to bet against a dead certainty?’

She tried to think of something suitably cutting to say only her brain wasn’t working as fast as it usually did. ‘You’re very confident.’

‘I am,’ he agreed softly. ‘Want to know why?’

He lifted his hand from hers, took a pinch of her hair and tugged so she turned her head his way again. One look into those eyes again and she was mesmerised.

Utterly still she sat as he drew closer, blocking everything from her senses but him.

‘This is why,’ he muttered. He let go of her hair, but his hand didn’t leave her head. His fingers slipped down the side of her face, and he traced around the curve of her jaw. The smallest touch was sensational—it was as if tiny fireworks had been set off along his path and the next patch of skin demanded its share… but most especially it was her mouth that wanted his attention. She had to open it, just a little. She had… to… breathe. The small creases at the corners of his eyes deepened a fraction. He knew. And then he responded—his finger traced up from her chin and slowly, with delicate pressure, he rubbed the tip of it back and forth over her lips. They felt dry and full and needy. What she’d give for a drink right now—a drink straight from his mouth.

His slow, delicious, tormenting caresses didn’t stop. Just one finger, cruising the contours of her lips and she couldn’t look away from the promise of passion in his eyes. She forgot where they were, the low hum of the airplane faded to nothing—only conscious of the sound of her own breathing and the intensity of his attention.