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Quickly she turned towards the door. ‘Is that all, Captain?’
‘For now.’
With a mock salute she disappeared back into the front room, and faced the files this time with a sigh of almost-relief. Ben Jackson was far too perceptive for her own comfort … or safety.
Ben stared at the door Natalia had just disappeared through, closing it firmly behind her, and frowned. That woman got under his skin. More than he liked. She annoyed and intrigued and invigorated him all at once, and it made him uneasy. Even a little angry. Women didn’t get close to him; no one did. Getting close meant losing control, and that was something Ben never did.
Yet from the moment Natalia had breezed into his life, she’d been chipping at the self-control he prided himself on. The cornerstone of who he was, for after witnessing his father’s three marriages, his mother’s life put into a desperate tailspin every time he strayed and it made the papers for everyone to see, Ben had no desire to let anyone close. Give anyone that kind of power.
And yet somehow Natalia already had it. She’d infuriated him the night of the engagement party with her sly innuendoes that he was running this camp for his own personal gain. And her suggestion that his family was somehow beneath her, what with her own wild-child antics splashed across the papers on a weekly basis… ?. She’d managed to insult him in the deepest, most personal way possible all in the space of a few minutes. Had she known instinctively that such insults would catch him on the raw? Ben knew he was sensitive about his family. Protective of his mother and sisters. How could he not be, when the press loved to lambast or ridicule them on an almost daily basis? And yet Princess Natalia courted that kind of coverage. The thought made him feel sick. How could a woman like her affect him this way? Make him want so much?
Today her snooty princess routine had also annoyed him, more than it should have, perhaps. He’d expected her time here would take her down a peg or two, not polish her pedestal. He hadn’t counted on his staff being wide-eyed and tongue-tied in her presence, or Natalia acting like some kind of Grace Kelly.
Yet even so, he shouldn’t be so bothered. He knew it wasn’t just Natalia’s workplace behaviour that was bothering him. Hell, he’d expected that. He certainly hadn’t thought she’d meekly slot herself into the office and be anything close to efficient or productive. He’d thought he’d even enjoy seeing her flounder a bit, watching her get nowhere with her airs and graces.
No, something else was making him hot under the collar, and he knew just what it was. Desire. Princess Natalia Santina was a beautiful woman. At the engagement party her charms had been obvious in a tiny, silver spangled dress that barely covered her bottom. He’d taken in those hazel cat’s eyes, lithe curves and endless legs and felt an expected kick of lust, easy to dismiss.
Yet today when she’d leaned across his desk and he’d seen the T-shirt stretch across her breasts, when he breathed in the citrusy scent of her perfume, something clean and fresh he hadn’t expected, when his gaze was inevitably drawn to her again and again, he felt more than just a normal kick of lust. He felt a deeper twist of longing he wasn’t ready to acknowledge, much less feel. When he saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes, when her pointed quips made him want to smile, when he enjoyed her company … he felt that longing inside of him twist harder and start to snap.
Control. He was losing it. He didn’t want to want this woman. In any way. He had enough to do arranging this camp, managing his own business and making sure his siblings stayed on a steady course. He didn’t need the complication of a woman—any woman, but especially one as dangerously high-profile as Princess Natalia.
Far better to steer clear of her except in the office, or he’d see himself splashed across the tabloids like the rest of his family, and that was the last thing he wanted.
Straightening, he pulled a sheaf of papers towards him and determined to work for the rest of the afternoon—and not give the aggravating princess another thought.
He stayed in his office until after seven, immersed in his work. He heard the muted farewells of the others leaving, the sound of the door closing, when he decided to finish up back at the beach house he’d rented for his time on the island. His equilibrium mostly restored, Ben grabbed his attaché and opened his office door, stopping abruptly when he saw Natalia still bent over the filing cabinet.
The first thing he noticed was the way her skirt pulled across the rounded curve of her bottom. Then he jerked his gaze upwards and realised she was still filing away. The thought shocked him, for if she was still here it meant she hadn’t been slow on purpose. So what was really going on? Ben had no idea, but this perplexing insight into the woman he wanted to dismiss made him pause. Frown.
She straightened and, seeming to sense his presence, turned. Ben noticed her guarded expression, her eyes veiled before she tilted her head and gave him a flirty smile. That was the expression he was used to seeing, yet it didn’t ring true right now.
‘You didn’t have to stay late.’
Natalia lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug. ‘I wanted to get the job done.’ She glanced at the remaining few files. ‘I’ve decided I despise filing.’
‘It is a bit tedious.’
‘That too.’ She tucked a strand of wheat-blonde hair behind her ear and turned back to the cabinet.
Ben saw how stiff her shoulders were, her whole body nearly vibrating with tension. She also looked exhausted, and to his own shock he found himself saying, ‘Let me finish it.’
‘I can do it—’ she insisted, surprisingly fierce, but Ben had already slotted the remaining files into the cabinet and closed the drawer. It had taken less than a minute. Why, he wondered, had it taken her hours? Surely even the most incompetent person could manage it quicker than that. Yet looking at her drawn face and shadowed eyes he didn’t think it had been some kind of revenge. She’d actually, in her own way, been trying.
‘So you finished your first day,’ he said lightly. He had come to stand quite close to her in order to finish the filing, and he was conscious of her slender form, the sweep of her satiny cheek, the way her chest rose and fell. He took a step back. ‘Congratulations.’
She gave him a sharp look, reminding him, to his relief, of the spoilt princess he’d encountered at the engagement party. ‘Much to your disappointment, I’m sure.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘I would. You made this bet in order to see me fail.’ She spoke flatly, without her usually lilting playfulness, and Ben found he missed it.
‘I made this bet—’ he began, then stopped. Why had he insisted she volunteer for him for a month? His own kind of revenge for her being the kind of partying, publicity-seeking princess she was? Or to teach her a lesson? Or something far more dangerous—because he wanted to see her again, wanted to be near her? He didn’t like any of the choices.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Natalia jibed softly. ‘Never mind. One day down, twenty-nine to go.’ She turned to fetch her coat but Ben got there first, holding it up for her. ‘So I can hang up my own coat but not put it back on?’ she mocked, yet he sensed a brittle edge to her tone, to her whole self, that he hadn’t heard before. It made him wonder what would happen when that brittle edge cracked. What was underneath?
She slipped her arms into the sleeves and as his fingers brushed her shoulders he felt her twang with awareness, her body as taut as a tightly strung bow. He also felt the answering jolt of lust ricochet through his own body, so strong it took all his self-control to release her.
‘Let’s call a truce for the evening,’ he said, and she turned, close enough to him that her hair brushed his cheek as she moved.
‘Are you serious? Where’s the fun in that?’
‘I’m not sure. But keeping up with you is exhausting, Princess.’
‘Of course it is,’ she replied tartly. ‘I move fast.’ She swept past him to the door, and Ben was left wondering if she’d been warning him—or putting herself down. She’d sounded almost bitter.
‘Let me buy you a drink,’ he suggested, ‘since we both survived.’ The invitation shocked him. The last thing he wanted was to appear in public with Princess Natalia. The press would go wild photographing them, with all the accompanying gossip and speculation. Exactly the kind of thing he despised.
Except right now all he could think about was what he wanted. Natalia stared at him, her eyes wide, moist pink lips parted, and lust jolted him again, as if he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket. Going out with Natalia—even if only for a drink—was surely just as dangerous and foolish a thing to do.
Almost as if she sensed the nature of his thoughts, her eyes flashed fire and she buttoned up her coat. ‘I never say no to a drink,’ she said, and walked out the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
NATALIA decided to take Ben to a trendy, high-end wine bar near the market square, one of her regular haunts. She could have gone somewhere more discreet, where she wouldn’t be noticed, but some childish impulse in her made her choose the more obvious place, although whether she wanted to prove Ben right about her or just annoy him she couldn’t say. The moment they arrived the waiter fawned over her, stammering in his nervous haste.
‘Princess Natalia! I didn’t realise you might be gracing us with your presence tonight. Your usual table?’
She waved a hand airily. ‘Thank you, Paulo, but perhaps something in the back this time.’ Her usual table was in the front window, perfect for the paparazzi, but she had a feeling Ben would balk at that. She could show some consideration. She glanced back at Ben, expecting his eyes to have narrowed and lips thinned in disapproval at her notoriety, but his expression was unreadable. ‘They know who I am here,’ she explained flippantly, and he arched an eyebrow.
‘So it appears.’
The waiter led them to a discreet table in the back, tucked in its own corner, and two more waiters descended on them with bowls of olives and nuts.
Ben took the proffered wine list and scanned it blandly, giving Natalia a chance to study him. She nibbled on a nut—in the end she hadn’t actually eaten much of the fabulous lunch and she was starving—and gazed at him from under her lashes.
He really was a most attractive man. His hair, light brown and cut quite short, emphasised the hard planes of his cheekbones and jaw. Funny how brown hair and blue eyes—both so ordinary—could look so amazing, so assured and masculine on this one man. Also amazing was the way her body responded to the whole of his features, her heart rate kicking up so she felt nearly breathless.
He glanced up, caught her staring and gave her an all-too-knowing smile. In the dim light his navy eyes glinted almost blackly. ‘Any preference?’ he asked, indicating the wine list.
‘How about champagne?’ Natalia suggested, and from the way his eyes narrowed she knew Ben was thinking of the bottle of wine at lunch.
‘Champagne, it is.’ No sooner had he closed the wine list than a waiter hurried to serve them. ‘A bottle of your best champagne,’ Ben said blandly, and Natalia arched an eyebrow.
‘Do you know how much that will cost?’ she asked after the waiter had left and Ben sat back in his chair, scanning the well-heeled crowd around them.
‘In a place like this? I’d say about three thousand euros. But I didn’t think you concerned yourself with filthy lucre, Princess.’
‘I don’t,’ she threw back at him. ‘But I thought you might. New money and all that.’
‘I thought we were calling a truce.’
‘And I said there was no fun in that.’
Ben gazed at her, his expression thoughtful, assessing. Uncomfortable. He’d looked at her with compassion when he’d finished the filing for her, and this was just about as bad. Too understanding. Too knowing. Natalia shifted in her seat, recrossed her legs. ‘So you’re going to bait me and bicker with me for the next month?’ he finally asked.
She shrugged, unwilling to admit how exhausting that sounded. But what other choice did she have? What else did she do? She certainly couldn’t attempt honesty. Intimacy. She’d tried that once and it had been a complete disaster. Just like it had been for Carlotta, ending up heartbroken and a single mother in the bargain. ‘Until it gets old,’ she finally told him with an attempt at breeziness.
‘And how long will that be, do you think?’
‘It depends how much fun you are.’
‘I think we have different definitions of fun.’
‘I have no doubt about that,’ she assured him, and he gave her a small smile.
‘So, Princess, what do you do with yourself besides shop and party and play?’ There was no real censure to his tone, but Natalia felt it all the same. His choice of words were telling enough. He thought she was shallow. What a surprise. She didn’t actually expect him to think any differently, yet his assumption still annoyed her.
‘What else is there? Unless you’re going to bore me with a lecture about work and duty and the satisfaction of a job well done.’ She rolled her eyes, and even though Ben smiled slightly she still sensed his disapproval.
‘All right, here’s another question. What do you hope to gain from this next month?’
Any number of flip answers could have tumbled off her tongue, yet for some reason Natalia remained silent. Ben’s question seemed so sincere, she was oddly reluctant to offer another jibe. And, she realised, she wanted to know the answer. Unfortunately she was the one who was meant to give it, and she had no idea.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Ben said softly, echoing her earlier words.
‘I must admit, I haven’t thought about this next month as anything but an endurance test.’
‘Fair enough. It’s all I pitched it as.’
‘But now you’re thinking of something else?’
He shrugged, one powerful shoulder lifting. ‘Only that it’s an awfully long time to just endure.’
She leaned forward with a catlike smile. ‘A perfect reason to end the bet right now. We could both walk away.’
He let out a low laugh. ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of anything like that,’ he assured her, his gaze lingering and speculative. ‘Most definitely not.’ The waiter came then with the champagne, popping the cork with a flourish and pouring two glasses of a very expensive vintage. Ben raised his glass in a toast, and Natalia followed suit. ‘To the next twenty-nine days,’ he said, ‘and all they promise.’
Natalia murmured her agreement and took a sip of the champagne, the bubbles crisp on her tongue. What could she gain from the month ahead? Ben’s question bothered her, not just because she didn’t know the answer, but because of what it implied. He made it sound as if this little exercise was meant to teach the spoilt princess a lesson in kindness and compassion, blah, blah, blah. It just showed how lacking Ben thought her in those qualities. And maybe she was. Yet she didn’t know how to change—or if she could.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said, and she looked up, startled that he’d sensed the change in her mood.
‘What on earth could be wrong?’ she replied lightly. ‘I’m drinking some of the best champagne I’ve ever had with a handsome man, even if he is a bit of a stuffed shirt. Maybe a glass or two will loosen him up.’ She gave him a flirtatious look from under her lashes, putting their conversation back on familiar territory, firm ground.
‘Going on the offensive?’ Ben replied drily, startling her again.
‘Is that what you call flirting?’
‘In your case, yes. You don’t like it when I ask questions.’
She couldn’t believe how well he understood her. It made her furious, and a bit scared, and more determined than ever to keep it light. ‘Or perhaps you just don’t like flirting.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind flirting,’ Ben assured her in a lazy drawl that sent unwanted awareness tingling along Natalia’s spine and uncoiling deep inside of her. ‘But you’re not flirting,’ he added, taking a sip of champagne. ‘You’re just trying to keep me from getting to know you.’
She let out an abrupt laugh, the sound sharp and bordering on bitter, and far, far too revealing. ‘You don’t want to get to know me.’
He stilled, his glass halfway raised to his lips. ‘Poor little princess?’ he mocked gently. ‘Nobody understands you? Nobody loves you?’
Natalia stared at him, wanting to laugh it off, needing to, yet somehow she couldn’t. Her chest felt tight, her throat aching. She took a sip of champagne to ease the soreness. ‘Of course,’ she finally said lightly. ‘Would you really expect anything else from me?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Ben said slowly, and Natalia jerked her surprised gaze to his own thoughtful one.
‘I’m an open book,’ she said, raking her hands through her hair and giving him a challenging little smile. ‘Obviously.’
‘Why did it take you so long to do that filing?’ Ben asked quietly, and Natalia stilled, the smile slipping right off her face. For a second she felt horribly exposed, as if he’d just stripped her clothes, or even her skin, right off in the middle of the restaurant. Ben gazed at her with that same thoughtful seriousness, and Natalia scrambled to regain her equanimity. Her armour.
She raised one hand, waggling her fingers. ‘Filing is murder on the nails. I wanted to keep my manicure.’
His mouth tightened, although his expression remained thoughtful. Knowing. ‘You’ll have to say goodbye to your nails next week, when the camp starts. I doubt your manicure will survive on the football pitch.’
‘Yes, and just what do you expect me to do on a football pitch?’
‘Whatever needs doing,’ Ben replied. His tone was equable, and yet Natalia sensed that hardness underneath that told her this man was a formidable adversary. He’d managed to get her father to agree to her volunteering for a month; he could probably get anyone to agree to just about anything. In fact, she realised, swallowing drily, he could get her to agree to all manner of things… ?.
She pushed that thought aside, as well as the accompanying images that danced through her mind of Ben looking at her with heavy-lidded languor rather than this quiet speculation. Ben drawing her to him and brushing those soft, mobile lips against her own. Ben slipping his hands …
No. She willed the images and thoughts away. Thinking about getting any closer to Ben Jackson was foolish to the point of insanity. He already guessed—and knew—too much.
‘I should tell you,’ she informed him blithely, ‘I don’t know the first thing about football.’
‘Oh, don’t worry.’ His mouth curved into a slow smile. ‘I’ll teach you.’
Again awareness raced along Natalia’s nerve endings and burst like sun-fire through her blood. If she reached one hand out, she would be able to touch him. She wondered how his skin would feel, imagined the rough brush of faint stubble under her fingers. Just how soft would his lips be? She’d spent too much time thinking about his lips, his eyes, the hard, sculpted body underneath that sober silk suit. She needed to stop. Flirting was one thing, desire another. Need, she knew, was dangerous. She’d given into it really only once before and the results had been disastrous and long-lasting. She was still living them down. With the way the press loved to hate her, she always would be.
‘I’m not a very good student,’ she warned him, keeping her voice as light as ever. That was as close as she could come to admitting the truth.
‘Fortunately I’m a good teacher.’
Was she imagining the innuendo, wanting it even, or was Ben really suggesting something? His eyes glinted in the candlelight and his mouth quirked upwards. He knew what she was thinking! The realization slammed through Natalia, ignited shock and even fear inside her. How did this man know her so well? She’d spent her whole life trying not to be known, even as she inwardly longed for someone to truly understand her, not the pampered party princess, but the girl—and then the woman—underneath … whoever she was. Yet she didn’t want the person who truly knew her to be Ben Jackson, with his cynicism and his sneers and his stupid sense of duty. She couldn’t.
‘I should go,’ she said abruptly, the sudden urgency she felt to escape coming through in her tone. Ben quirked one eyebrow.
‘It’s only a little after eight. The night is young.’
‘I have other plans,’ Natalia told him, a blatant lie but one she managed with breezy confidence. ‘My social calendar is quite full, you know.’
He straightened in his seat, his eyes narrowing now not with speculation but, Natalia suspected, with disapproval or even disdain. Well, at least that was more familiar. She stood, and a waiter hurried to her side.
‘Your Highness …?’
‘My coat, please.’
Ben stood as well. ‘I’ll drive you home.’
‘There’s no need. I can text my driver—’
‘And bring him out for no good reason? Why do that?’ And she heard—or at least thought she heard—a thread of judgement in his voice. She’d do that because she didn’t care about other people. She didn’t think about them or their needs. She was selfish, shallow, vain—everything the tabloids said she was. Of course.
‘Fine.’ Natalia glanced at the table, their three-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne only half finished. ‘I’ll wait for you to settle up.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Princess. They know who I am here.’ And he strolled past her with a smile, clearly relishing her surprise and discomfort at hearing her own words laughingly parroted back to her.
Snatching her coat from the waiter, silently fuming at the way he always seemed to best her, Natalia followed Ben out to the street. Her heel caught on a tile in the doorway of the restaurant, and as she pitched forward Ben’s arm came around her instinctively, supporting her and drawing her to him so her breasts collided with his hard chest, her own arm coming up around his shoulders in an attempt to steady herself. And yet even as she regained her balance her heart tumbled inside her as if she’d just fallen down a whole flight of stairs.
She breathed in the scent of him, woodsy and clean, and felt the lean strength of his body pressed against her own. Her senses exploded to life with longing, and her breath hitched revealingly as she remained half wrapped around him and stars exploded around her.
No, not stars, just the relentless flash of the paparazzi’s cameras. A half-dozen of them had been camped outside of the restaurant, waiting for her exit.
Natalia felt Ben’s calm, capable hands steady her and then he stepped away, his face expressionless, yet underneath that purposeful blandness she sensed he was now seething with anger. She felt it like the pulse of her own blood, hot and demanding. She’d just given him some major, and undoubtedly unwanted, publicity.
He strode down the street, away from the flashing cameras, and she followed as best she could, hobbling a little bit. The paparazzi hurried after them, shouting questions in both Italian and English.
‘Who is your boy toy now, Princess?’
‘Give us a kiss!’
Ben strode faster, suddenly turning a corner onto a dark and narrow side street, and breathless Natalia tried to keep up. ‘Wait—’
‘You want to stay for that?’ he asked in a sneer. ‘Of course you do. That kind of publicity stunt is right up your alley, Princess.’
So he thought she’d tripped on purpose, for the cameras. It didn’t really surprise her, yet it still hurt. ‘I just,’ she panted, ‘want to keep from breaking my ankle. My heel broke when I tripped.’
Ben glanced back at her, then ducked into an alley between two tall and crumbling buildings. Natalia could barely see, and she tripped over some old terracotta pots piled against the wall. They clattered onto the cobbles, the sound echoing off the high walls. She blinked, the darkness pressing close all around her, making her palms damp and her heart thud. She hated the dark, especially unlit, enclosed spaces like this wretched alley. ‘Where … where are we going?’