The Prince's Texas Bride / The Reluctant Princess

Stefan watched as Eve put her hand on Bridget’s arm as if she were trying to calm her. Bridget pulled back her arm and continued to scream. His sister would likely be embarrassed tomorrow.

“Open the door and offer Ms. Jackson a ride in peace,” Stefan said to his top bodyguard, Franco.

“Yes, sir.”

Stefan could tell Eve needed some extra explanation in order to leave his wailing sister with her bodyguard. She slid into the seat across from Stefan and he made a mental note to thank his sister when she decided she was speaking to him again. Eve usually wore jeans, but tonight she wore a dress that revealed her long, shapely legs.

“Your Highness, your sister’s gonna be ticked off with you for a long time,” Eve drawled.

“She’ll get over it when I let her take a vacation to Italy soon,” he said. “It’s unfortunate that you had to witness her—” He wanted to choose his words carefully.

“Hissy fit?” Eve said. “She’s on a short leash and doesn’t like it.”

“There’s good reason for it,” he said. “I insist on her safety.”

She frowned and studied him. “Have there been threats?”

“Threats? Rarely. Risks, always. It’s part of the job,” he said. “Does that frighten you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t like the idea of any of you being hurt.”

“Neither do I,” Stefan said. “That’s why I have only the best security and that is why Bridget and you shouldn’t have been in that club tonight. Bridget knows she’s supposed to submit her schedule to security before she goes anywhere. She’s in a high-profile position now. She can’t take the same kinds of risks she could before. Plus, she put you at risk.”

Eve’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? The only risk I was facing was boredom at that club.”

“I intend to keep it that way,” he said and paused. “Why didn’t you wait for me? Did you get cold feet?”

She lifted a dark eyebrow. “Based on our lovely conversation during my meeting with Franz, I didn’t know what to expect.”

“That was about your slip to the press,” he said, dismissing the concern. “You are still my employee. Can you compartmentalize or not?”

She met his gaze for a long moment. “I don’t know. I know I was raised to say please and thank you and I prefer being treated the same way, even by royalty. I respond better to an invitation than an order.”

Stefan realized he would need to take a step back and frustration nicked at him. He wanted Eve in his bed. He couldn’t totally explain it, but something about the woman made him keep turning toward her. It was almost as if she had some sort of magnetic pull on him, which was rubbish.

He supposed he could tell his chauffer to return to the staff quarters at the palace and he and Eve could go their separate ways, but Stefan wasn’t willing to give up his time with Eve even if she wouldn’t be spending the night in his bed as he’d planned. He pressed a button to talk to the driver. “Send security ahead to my Aunt Zoe’s house at Gerando Beach. I’ll give her a call to see if she minds me dropping in.” He turned to Eve. “Would you like to go to the beach tonight?”

“I don’t have a suit with me,” she said, but her eyes lit with interest.

“No need for one. We’ll be on a balcony of a private home listening to live music and watching the surf. Interested?”

She paused a half beat, then smiled and he felt as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. “Yes, that sounds nice.”

Aunt Zoe was in Switzerland, but she’d left instructions with her staff that her house was always available to the royal family. After Stefan’s security finished securing the seaside home, Eve and Stefan walked inside. The two-story foyer featured large windows, an unusual chandelier of crystal and copper, and a double staircase.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yes,” Stefan agreed and extended his hand to her. “But upstairs is better.” He led the way upstairs and down a hallway to a den with a swirling paddle fan overhead, white cushy-looking furniture, a bar and kitchen.

“Aunt Zoe designed it all. It’s a hobby for her. She also has homes in Switzerland, Bellagio and Manhattan,” he said.

“Sounds like she’s a woman on the move,” Eve said. “And very talented.”

“You like it?” he asked.

“It’s luxurious, but soothing at the same time. I just probably wouldn’t go with a white couch. I’d be afraid of getting it dirty.” She laughed. “No. I’d definitely get it dirty.”

He liked the way she enjoyed the house and saw herself in it with a modification. “It’s nice being with a woman who’s not so—” He paused. “Overly fashion conscious.”

She smiled. “Or prissy.”

He smiled in return. “That word didn’t occur to me.”

“Bet it will now,” she said.

He swallowed a chuckle. “You still haven’t seen the best part. Come on,” he said and led her through the glass doors to the expansive balcony with two chaise longues, a table with an umbrella, and a view of the hippest beach in Chantaine. The music of an American R&B band rose from just beneath them.

She tilted her head quizzically. “That sounds awfully familiar. Are they a cover band for … “ She glanced over the balcony. “Americans? Here in Chantaine?”

He shook his head, amused again. “We have many American visitors every year. Some Americans like it here, Eve.”

“Well, of course they do,” she said. “I just didn’t expect to see one of my favorite R&B bands playing on one of Chantaine’s beaches.”

“Think about it. You play a lot of cities and concert halls. Then you get a chance to play in paradise, all expenses paid.”

“How come you never see these gigs listed on the band website?” she asked.

“Privacy’s also one of our charms.”

“Hmm. Maybe it shouldn’t be,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked, unable to conceal a trace of indignation. “Part of Chantaine’s attraction is that we’re not overexposed.”

“I hate to bust your ego, but before I met your sister Tina, I didn’t know Chantaine existed. Granted, I’m not a world traveler, but I’m college educated and always got As in Geography. If Chantaine’s economy is suffering, maybe it’s time to let the cat of the bag about what a great place this is.”

“It’s a delicate balance,” he said. “The advisers and state officials can’t agree.”

“Makes you wish you were the boss of everything,” she said and smiled.

“Enough about business. Let’s enjoy the music,” he said, joining her at the balcony railing.

“And the ocean breeze,” she said, lifting her chin and closing her eyes.

He skimmed his hand down the inside of her arm. “And the company. Would you like a drink?”

Her eyes flashed open, and she leaned close to him, and she whispered, “Are you sure we should raid your aunt’s liquor cabinet?”

Stefan laughed, full and hard, at the ridiculous question. He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. The notion that his aunt would be upset at his use of anything in her home was ridiculous. He led Eve inside to the bar. “I’ll replace anything we use,” he assured her. “What’s your pleasure?”

“I’m not a big drinker,” she said, looking at the rows of liquor, but stopped when she saw a bottle of bourbon. “But I could sip on a Texas Rose.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

She gave a mock gasp. “You mean I know something you don’t?”

“What’s in it?” he asked. “I’ll fix it.”

“You?” she asked, her eyes rounded in surprise. “I thought you had staff for everything.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do most of what my staff can do,” he said. “Why do you think I fired so many stable masters?”

She winced. “That’s scary.”

“Ingredients,” he demanded and stepped behind the bar.

“I’ve only had it a few times,” she said. “Bourbon, orange juice, cherry liquor … and champagne.”

He lifted an eyebrow, but grabbed the bourbon from the second shelf. The bottle was dusty. “Prissy drink.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But if you drink it, too, you can always say you’ve had a Texas Rose.”

Stefan paused as he pulled out a chilled can of orange juice and met her gaze. “I’ve never needed to embellish my successes.”

“There’s always a first,” she returned and pulled her long bangs behind her ear.

Her ears were naked except for silver studs. It struck him that he would love to see her dripping with Chantaine’s royal family’s jewels … and nothing else. He felt himself grow hard and ground his teeth. On impulse he mixed two drinks at once, then poured the liquid into two glasses filled with ice. Walking from behind the bar, he gave Eve her glass and lifted his. “To a Texas Rose,” he said, “transplanted to Chantaine.”

She clicked his glass with hers and took a sip. “Not bad for a prince,” she said.

Stefan resisted the urge to seduce her to lie down on one of those white couches and make wild, crazy love with her. “Let’s go outside, Madamoiselle Texas Rose,” he said and guided her to the balcony again.

They stood at the balcony and she sipped her drink, the wind lifting her hair from her shoulders. Stefan slid his arm around her waist. “You’re homesick,” he said. “What do you miss most?”

“You weren’t supposed to notice,” she said, giving a soft smile as she looked at him. “I was trying not to let it show.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What do you miss most?” he asked.

“The familiarity, my aunt, barbecue. This isn’t my turf,” she said.

“It will be,” he said. “It won’t take long. Chantaine is small compared to Texas.”

“But complex and still very foreign to me,” she said.

“That will change soon enough.”

“If you say so,” she said.

The doubt in her voice surprised him. She was usually so confident, so ready to come back at him. “What made you question your ability?”

“Today shook me a little,” she confessed.

“Franz?” he said and gave a short laugh. “He’s a necessary nuisance. This won’t be your last run-in with him.”

She made a face. “I’d like it to be. I didn’t know whether I would be staying or going.”

“You’re too expensive to let go,” he said.

“I feel so much better now,” she said in a dry tone.

“You’re good at what you do. You’re just not accustomed to the way our press works. Just don’t talk to them until you learn the ropes.”

“Who’s going to teach me the ropes? Franz?” she asked with dread in her voice.

“No. My assistant or me. You can always call him,” he said. “You can always call me.” He couldn’t remember when he’d told any other woman such a thing.

The band eased into a slow, sensual tune. Stefan’s hands itched to touch her in ways he knew wouldn’t happen tonight. “Dance?” he asked, setting down his glass on one of the tables.

Meeting his gaze, she let him take her glass and do the same with his. Then she walked into his arms, and Stefan sighed at the sensation of her body close to his, where she belonged. He drank in the subtle spice and sweet combination of her scent. Her silky hair skimmed his jaw and her breasts brushed against his chest with each movement.

Holding her eased something inside him at the same time he felt need stretch inside him. He tried to ignore the need and focus on how good she felt. For a full moment, the only sounds were of the sultry song, their hushed breaths and in the background, ocean waves rolling into the surf.

“Have you ever had a more perfect moment than this?” she whispered, lifting her mouth just beneath his ear.

He searched his brain and came up empty. “No,” he murmured, pulling her even closer.

The song finally faded away, and she lifted her head, searching his eyes. The expression of wanting he saw there made his gut twist. The connection between them was shocking in its intensity. He lowered his head and took her mouth in a kiss. She immediately responded, tasting of oranges, bourbon and something forbidden.

Although he was already aroused, he couldn’t resist feeding himself on her mouth. He felt her arms climb around his neck as she kissed him with equal intensity. He slid his own hand to the small of her back, bringing her intimately against him. He wondered if she would pull away. Instead, she wriggled against him. His heart stuttered in his chest.

“You make it difficult for me to show restraint,” he muttered against her mouth.

“Is that what I’m supposed to be doing? Helping you show restraint?” she asked, her voice husky, her lips already swollen. She grazed his neck with an almost kiss and another twist of need ricocheted through him, this one stronger than before.

“You need to understand that everything will change once we become lovers,” he told her.

“Is this the standard warning required by the advisers?” she asked, pulling back slightly with a sliver of wry amusement in her eyes.

“No,” he said. “It’s just me being straight with you.”

“Aren’t things already different between us?” she asked.

“Yes, but I am determined to be discreet. I don’t want you or your reputation to be affected.”

“Can we just make this between you and me?” she asked.

“My position makes it difficult,” he said.

“I don’t want the position. I want the man,” she said.

Her words nearly put him over the edge, nearly made him pick her up, lay her down on the couch and take her that moment. He’d spent a lifetime being the prince instead of a man. “You really don’t care about my title, do you?”

“To be perfectly honest, Stefan, I’d probably like you more without it,” she drawled.

A sliver of exultation rushed through him. “I like your honesty,” he said, lifting a strand of her hair. “I like you too much.”

Her eyes darkened in awareness. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one feeling this way.”

“No fear of that,” he said in a dry tone and gave in to the urge to sink his hands into her hair and pull her head toward him.

They kissed again and he linked one of his hands with hers.

Eve’s heart hadn’t beat regularly since she’d first laid eyes on Stefan tonight. She wasn’t sure when she would breathe normally again. The world was tilted upside down, the night was spinning and heaven help her, she liked it. She liked the way his mouth moved against hers. The way his body felt against hers. The way his voice felt against her ears and skin …

She wanted to feel more of his skin. More of him. Seeking his lips, she tugged at his shirt, unfastening one button, then two … She spread her hands over his chest and sighed at the indulgent luxury of feeling his muscles beneath her fingertips. He sighed, too, and the sound was more delicious than the most decadent chocolate. The sea air and the sound of the surf only added to the ambiance.

“You have muscles,” she said. “When do you ever get the chance to work out?”

His laugh rumbled through her. “Every morning at 4:30 a.m.”

She winced, still sliding her hands over his bare chest. “That’s insane.”

“And what time do you get up?”

“Five-thirty,” she said. “Compared to you, I’m a slacker.” She kissed him again. “But maybe if I had to deal with your advisers, I’d get up at four-thirty to work off some of my frustration to keep from wringing their skinny necks.”

He chuckled again. “Some of their necks are fat.”

Shaking her head, she sank her face into his bare shoulder and inhaled deeply. “I like the way you smell.”

“I’m not wearing cologne,” he said and lifted her head. The expression in his eyes was just this side of ravenous. “Eve, you’re not acting like a woman who wants me to hold back.”

Fighting a flutter of nerves, she licked her suddenly dry lips. Fish or cut bait, she told herself. “Maybe my actions are doing all the real talking.”

She felt him slide one of his hands all the way down her back and he pulled her against his arousal. He made sure she knew just how thoroughly he was aroused. “Are you sure? I want you to be sure.”

“Another disclaimer for the advisers?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. For me.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m sure.” She smiled. “Ravish me.”

He shook his head. “What an invitation,” he said and pushed her dress down her shoulders. Three heartbeats later, her bra snapped loose and his mouth covered hers.

Eve knew she was venturing into new territory, but she was determined not to be shy about it. She wanted to feel everything. She wanted to feel bold and in control, but the truth was she felt vulnerable. Eve refused to give in to weakness.

Instead she focused on her senses. She traced her fingers through his crisp hair, down to his strong shoulders and chest. He slid his hands over her bare breasts and she shuddered. Her internal and external temperature rose exponentially. Eve had never been high, but she suspected this was what it might feel like. Her head was spinning, she found it difficult to breathe and a wicked euphoria raced through her veins.

Somehow, during the next kiss, her dress and panties were pooled at her feet. She scrubbed at his arms and felt remnants of his shirt. His pants-clad thigh slid between hers.

“You have on too many clothes,” she said, her voice sounding husky to her own ears.

He shook his head. “Once my clothes are gone, my control will follow.”

“Thank goodness,” she said.

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