How would Riley’s lips feel against hers?

Catherine’s pulse quickened when she thought about the end of their evening. Would he kiss her good-night? That was the American tradition, wasn’t it?

Royal protocol in her country called for first dates to be chaperoned, and a chaste handshake was all any suitor was allowed. Catherine had thanked the heavens for the strict etiquette many times over the years.

But tonight? Tonight she was grateful that no chaperone was watching her every move. Tonight she was hoping—praying—for a kiss.

Would it be soft? Warm? Moist? Firm? Slow and languorous? Or furiously ardent? If she had a say, she’d prefer to experience his kiss in each of those forms. The thought had her grinning.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

Nothing she could tell him, anyway….

DONNA CLAYTON

is a bestselling, award-winning author. She and her husband divide their time between homes in northern Delaware and Maryland’s Eastern Shore. They have two sons. Donna also writes women’s fiction as Donna Fasano.

Royal Seduction
Donna Clayton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Be a part of

Because birthright has its privileges and family ties run deep.

A doctor and a princess share a passion that defies expectation. And when duty and desire clash, they have to make the ultimate decision for their future! Will love conquer the crown?

Dr. Riley Jacobs: When he met Catherine for a consultation, he was dazzled by her beauty but resentful that a healthy person would take the precious time of a serious doctor. But as he got to know her, he saw the tender heart of a woman who crept into his soul….

Princess Catherine von Husden: This free-spirited princess ran from her royal responsibilities and delved into Portland’s social world. With her passionate reaction to Portland General’s Dr. Riley Jacobs, Catherine was thinking of ditching the crown altogether!

No Love Lost?

During Dr. Richie’s tenure at the Healthy Living Clinic, couples came together thanks to his special oil. With his departure, would love survive? Turn the pages and find out!

THE SOLUTION YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR…

THE REMEDY YOU DESERVE…

NoWAIT

THE AMAZING NEW DIET OIL. USE IT AND WATCH THE POUNDS MELT AWAY!

NoWait: A little rub on the skin, and in no time you’re thin!

SPONSORED BY THE HEALTHY LIVING CLINIC IN AFFILIATION WITH PORTLAND GENERAL HOSPITAL PORTLAND, OREGON

Use as directed.

Some side effects may occur.

Check with your physician before applying.

Because birthright has its privileges and family ties run deep.

AVAILABLE JUNE 2010

1.) To Love and Protect by Susan Mallery

2.) Secrets & Seductions by Pamela Toth

3.) Royal Affair by Laurie Paige

4.) For Love and Family by Victoria Pade

AVAILABLE JULY 2010

5.) The Bachelor by Marie Ferrarella

6.) A Precious Gift by Karen Rose Smith

7.) Child of Her Heart by Cheryl St. John

8.) Intimate Surrender by RaeAnne Thayne

AVAILABLE AUGUST 2010

9.) The Secret Heir by Gina Wilkins

10.) The Newlyweds by Elizabeth Bevarly

11.) Right by Her Side by Christie Ridgway

12.) The Homecoming by Anne Marie Winston

AVAILABLE SEPTEMBER 2010

13.) The Greatest Risk by Cara Colter

14.) What a Man Needs by Patricia Thayer

15.) Undercover Passion by Raye Morgan

16.) Royal Seduction by Donna Clayton

This book is dedicated to

Nancy and Mark Ruz…Ruszcs…Ruszczycky.

Nan, you’re the most seductive princess

I know.

And, Mark, better medical advice cannot be found.

Thank you, both, for the inspiration!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Prologue

“I ’m not marrying that man!” If Princess Catherine von Husden were still a child, she’d have stomped her foot and jutted her chin toward her father. But now that she was twenty-six, such antics were no longer an option. Her only recourse was to fix her eyes on him and refuse to back down.

“Oh, Daddy,” her sister droned with irritating complaint, “can’t you do something about her?” Yvonne leveled a glare in Catherine’s direction. “Cat, you’re the oldest. Protocol calls for you to marry first. You know Hampstead and I have been waiting for nearly a year! Just marry Étienne and get it over with.”

Catherine calmly remarked, “You shouldn’t have waited. And you shouldn’t wait any longer. Haven’t I always said etiquette be damned?”

Yvonne gasped. Their father’s jaw tensed.

Catherine narrowed her eyes on her father. “Besides, the only reason you want a wedding is to try to show up Max. But that’s not going to happen. No matter how hard we try, Lextanyans cannot outshine a wedding and a coronation.”

Catherine was so happy for her cousin Max. Last year he’d married the love of his life and then had been crowned king of Lantanya. The wedding, attended by the entire von Husden family, had been a glorious affair. And as custom dictated, the coronation had been elaborate in the extreme.

“I wish you’d give up this silly competition.” Catherine lifted one hand, palm up. “Uncle Maxwell, may he rest in peace, isn’t even around any longer to compete with you.” Although Maxwell the Fourth, the former king of neighboring Lantanya, wasn’t her father’s brother, the two men had been close enough that the man had always been affectionately referred to as “uncle” by Catherine and her sister. Everyone knew about the silly game of one-upmanship that her father and Uncle Maxwell had spent years playing. “And Max doesn’t care to compete with you—”

“Catherine, this has nothing to do with me and my cousin, and it certainly has nothing to do with Max,” her father said. “This only has to do with you and Étienne. He is an exceptional young man. He’s industrious, and he has an excellent background as well as a flawless reputation.”

This had her brows arching. “So you haven’t heard the stories that he’s a skirt-chasing misogynist? Is that what you want me dealing with for the rest of my days?”

Her sister clicked her tongue in dismay. “Cat, that’s your future husband you’re talking about.”

“Oh, no.” Despite her intention to remain unruffled, determination—along with an unexpected stirring of alarm—had her pulling her arms tight across her chest. “The man may be handsome as the devil himself, and he may be highly educated. He may even have a noble or two climbing around in his family tree.” Cat halted abruptly, gasping with a sudden revelation. “He’s offering you the Caslow Diamond, isn’t he?” The diamond was huge, and world-renowned. One look at her father’s face was proof enough. She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m being traded for a glittery rock.” Her spine stiffened with renewed resolve. “I don’t care what he’s offering. I will not spend my time keeping tabs on a hound dog of a husband who’s sniffing around other women at every opportunity. That’s not what marriage is supposed to be about.”

“You know nothing about marriage.” Her father’s tone went taut. “Étienne’s actions before he became interested in a union with you will not be held against him. The man had to live, didn’t he?”

Catherine held her ground. However she got the impression that her ground was becoming a tad shaky. Usually, her father’s staunch decision would begin to soften under her unfaltering protests. Usually.

But today Prince Wilhelm Adolf was proving why he’d remained regent of Lextanya for so long as his shoulders squared with a frightening fortitude.

“You also know nothing about family loyalty,” he continued. “If you did, you wouldn’t continue to embarrass the von Husden name by refusing to do as you’re told.”

His blue eyes were as cold as ice chips, and they sent a chill through Catherine.

“No matter what fantasy has enraptured you this week, Catherine, it’s time you wake up. We are of the regal lineage of Lantanya. And we rule Lextanya. The von Husdens are one of the last remaining truly royal houses in the world. We are renowned and respected. And I won’t allow you to threaten our reputation ever again, Catherine.”

Oh, Lord, would he never allow her to live down that one small slipup? It had been ages ago. She’d been sixteen when it happened, and she hadn’t caused him a moment of trouble since. Well, no real trouble, anyway.

“Unlike some nobles,” her father added, “our side of the von Husden family has never been tainted with nasty misdeeds.”

Certainly he wasn’t comparing her childhood prank to Uncle Maxwell’s stepbrother’s villainous crime against the entire nation of Lantanya? Max’s first act as ruler had been to send his step-uncle to prison for high treason.

“People are beginning to talk,” her father continued. “About you. Rumor and innuendo can be just as fatal to our royal name as scandalous criminal offenses. Besides, it’s completely natural that Lextanyans are beginning to wonder about you, Catherine. You’re not getting any younger.”

She couldn’t believe he was tossing her into the same rotten barrel with a true criminal. And all because she didn’t want to marry Étienne. Then again, she guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. Her father had always had a poor opinion of her.

“But I don’t need a man to make me happy,” Catherine said. “I don’t need to marry. Go ahead and announce Yvonne’s engagement.”

Prince Wilhelm ignored her. “We live and die by tradition. The day we release hold on custom is the day our house will fall.”

Catherine plopped her fist on her hip. “What a load of imperialistic bunk!”

Yvonne’s sob made Catherine spin on her heel.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” She went to her sister’s side. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to Father. Or to our family.”

Catherine had been speaking plainly to her father for years; however, she never made a habit of doing so in front of Yvonne, or anyone else for that matter. No, the barbed relationship she and Wilhelm shared was kept private. Just between the two of them. But he was going too far in his attempts to marry her off.

Shrugging Catherine’s comforting arm from her shoulder, Yvonne cried, “You’re disrespectful of all of us, Cat. Why can’t you see that? And you’re keeping me from becoming Hampstead’s wife!”

“I’m supposed to marry a man I don’t love so you can do what you see as your royal duty?” Although Catherine worked hard to restrain the sharpness in her voice, she knew she’d failed.

Her sister clenched her hands into tight, white fists. “You are so selfish.” With tears streaming openly down her pale cheeks, Yvonne raced from the room.

Catherine watched her sister disappear through the doorway of her father’s office, her chest growing heavy with dread and guilt. The walls were covered, floor to ceiling, with oak panels that had darkened over time, and right now they seemed to close in on her as she turned to face her father.

“Your actions are affecting everyone around you, Catherine.” Anger emanated from him in simmering waves. “You are duty bound to do as I bid.”

Trepidation overrode all emotion in her. She’d never heard him speak like this before. He’d pleaded and cajoled and threatened, but there had always been something—some unspoken expression or tone—that had left her feeling there was a way out. But that unspoken something wasn’t present at the moment, and that scared her.

“Étienne is ready to arrive at any time. All I have to do is call him.”

“Father, no!”

“He is the one, Catherine,” he pressed. “There will be a wedding. A grand affair. It will be your day to shine.”

“This is the new millennium.” She threw her arms wide. “No one arranges marriages anymore. That idea went out with catapults and chastity belts.”

“I’ve spoken to Étienne on your behalf,” he continued smoothly. “When he arrives, he’ll expect to spend plenty of time with you during his visit. Your engagement will be announced soon after his visit.”

Panic flared inside her like white-hot flames. She wanted to rant and rave, but knew it would do no good, so she pressed her lips together to hold in the churning emotion. Her father’s mind was made up, that much was all too clear. He’d even gone behind her back and set his plan into motion. Her dismal future would begin with one phone call.

He went silent waiting for her to respond. She would not agree with his plan. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

“May I go now?” she asked.

He gave a single nod. “Just so long as we understand each other. Duty calls, Catherine. Duty calls. And you, my dear, shall answer.”

She wanted to leave. She wanted to run. But she couldn’t get her feet to move. The whole world felt as if it were collapsing in on her. What was wrong with her? Yvonne couldn’t wait to get married. Couldn’t wait to produce a gaggle of royal babies. She didn’t need love, it seemed. In fact, Yvonne had been quite happy with the man their father had chosen for her.

So why was she so resistant?

Catherine dashed away the hot tear of frustration. She didn’t know why she continued to be defiant. She just felt she had to. And no amount of kingly commands was going to change that.

What she’d like to do was just run away. Go somewhere fun and exciting. Crawl out from under the burdensome von Husden name and all the royal responsibilities that went along with it and enjoy a little purely naughty fun.

But that was impossible.

Duty calls, Catherine. Her father’s chilly reminder caused a shiver to course across every inch of her skin. And you, my dear, shall answer.

Her jaw firmed, and she wanted to mutter, “Duty be damned.” But she held her tongue.

“Is there anything else?” Her father asked, looking up from the paperwork he’d been reviewing.

“I need some time,” she blurted.

“I thought we had already concluded that your time had run out.”

“Please, Father.” She stopped. Swallowed. Took a deep breath. Allowing panic to overwhelm her would be a mistake. She had to make a rational argument. She tried again, “Father, I need some time to get used to the idea of…” She refused to voice the phrase marrying Étienne, so instead, she said, “the idea that my life will soon be changing. You’re asking a lot of me—”

“I’m asking no more of you than I am of your sister.”

“I need some time,” she repeated. Alarm began to erode her self-control. She had to say something that would make him agree to give her what she needed. “I’m not asking for the world here. Just two weeks.” Then an idea came to her out of the blue and she exclaimed, “To buy a trousseau!”

The straight line that had been his mouth softened.

“It wouldn’t look very good if I didn’t have all the things I needed to begin—”

“Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes,” she told him, relief flooding her.

Prince Wilhelm sighed. “You’ll take your sister along?”

Risking more disapproval, Cat shook her head slowly. “Yvonne is very upset with me. I doubt she’d be very much help.”

He glanced down at the papers on his desk. “Well, you can’t very well go alone.”

“I’m not a child. I want to go alone. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. I’ll go as Catherine Houston.”

When each of his children had turned twenty-one, Prince Wilhelm gifted them with a credit card and bank account under an assumed name. Traveling incognito was the perfect way to deflect the barrage of reporters whenever they took mini holidays or went shopping on Oxford Street in London. When your family owned the bank that backed the credit card—when your family owned the whole darned country—you could pretty much do whatever you wanted.

Her father sat down in his overstuffed leather chair. “Where will you go?”

Anxiety had her tossing up her hands. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

“But—”

“This will be the last trip I take as a single woman,” she said, a terrible sinking feeling twittering her stomach. “Would you please just give me a little space?”

For a long moment, he stared. And finally he murmured, “You may have two weeks. Two.”

One

I f the monotony of this job didn’t kill him, Dr. Riley Jacobs thought, then the paint fumes would. Taking over the running of Portland General Hospital’s new Healthy Living Clinic hadn’t been where he’d expected to put his extensive ER training into practice; however, the position had turned out to be a necessary rung on the ladder to where he wanted to go—and he had every intention of reaching his ultimate goal.

Riley thought of himself as a late bloomer, being thirty years old and having just completed his residency at Portland General Hospital. However, he’d received rave reviews from the ER chief of staff, and he’d truly expected a job offer. But instead Riley had been asked by the head honcho, himself—the hospital director—if he would become acting director of the Healthy Living Clinic. It seemed that things had gone quite awry here recently. And Riley had been told if he could set the mess right and keep bad publicity at bay, then a job would be waiting for him over in the hospital’s emergency room. He’d promised to do his best.

The perfunctory knock on his office door had him calling out, “It’s open.”

Faye Lassen secured a small stack of patient files in the crook of one arm. The thirty-two-year-old woman with a Ph.D. in nutrition and psychology wore her hair pinned up in a neat ’do, and wore a crisp white lab jacket over a navy knee-length skirt. One look at her and the word professional popped into one’s mind.

“Hi, Riley,” she said. “Busy?”

“Just reading through all this paperwork so I’ll be ready for our meeting. We should get over to the hospital soon, shouldn’t we?”

Anxiety clouded her blue eyes. At least, he thought her eyes were blue. He couldn’t be sure since they were hidden for most part behind the iconic, huge-rimmed glasses she wore.

“I don’t believe I’m going to be able to make it,” she told him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was just alerted that one of my nutritionists has called in sick and I’ve got a client waiting. If I’d been told ahead of time, I’d have called her and rescheduled her appointment.”

Riley set down the papers he’d been holding. “But I need you in that meeting with me. You know more about this place than anyone. You’ve been here since the clinic opened. You know what’s been happening around here, whereas I’ve just stepped into the job.”

“I know, and I hate to let you down,” she said, “but I have no choice. Also—” she pushed the door closed behind her and approached his desk “—I have some information about Dr. Richie. And it’s not good news.”

He went still. The springs in Riley’s chair creaked when he sat up straight, waiting.

“I was approached by Detective O’Callahan. He told me he was suspicious of Dr. Richie. I’d have told you about this sooner, but I didn’t want to spread mere rumor. I told the detective I needed proof. Well, after doing some background research, the detective discovered that, although Dr. Richie excelled in some areas of study during his college years, he didn’t do so well in chemistry. Detective O’Callahan has offered hard proof.”

Even as he took the manila folder Faye handed him, Riley thought of all those small bottles the staff at the clinic had been handing out to clients right and left. A topical weight-loss oil, NoWait had been the invention of Dr. Richard Strong, the man who had been Chief of Staff of the clinic until a woman proclaiming to be his ex-wife had disrupted his standing-room-only seminar with loud and angry accusations that had caused him to run for the high hills. Dr. Richie—as the famous health guru was known by everyone in the Pacific Northwest—hadn’t been seen in the clinic since.

The commotion had taken place a week ago, and although Riley hadn’t been around to witness the incident, it had everyone abuzz, clients and staff alike, and he’d heard the story several times over. But he was doing all he could to suppress gossip. Riley had been shoved into this job with orders to smooth over the workings of the clinic and avoid scandal.

He whistled, low and long. “If the public discovers that Dr. Strong wasn’t much of a chemist,” he said, “yet he had our backing when he introduced that oil, there could be big trouble for the clinic. We’ve got to pull NoWait. We need to stop using it. Today.”

Faye nodded. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“If the newspapers pick up the story about how that stuff is affecting our clients, it could ruin the clinic’s reputation,” Riley said.

“We’ve got to keep that from happening.”

He unwittingly tapped the tip of his pen against the heel of his hand. “Granted, NoWait is a homeopathic treatment. It’s topical, dab a bit on the skin. What can it harm? And Dr. Richie’s papers only list natural ingredients. I’ve read them. I can’t imagine NoWait being anything but harmless.”

“It has seemed to help our clients lose weight,” Faye said. “But everyone has also been acting rather…peculiar.”

Peculiar wasn’t the half of it, Riley silently surmised. The first day or so on the job, he’d been too busy to notice. But he’d quickly realized that the people in the clinic seemed more frisky than normal. And he didn’t mean frisky as in lighthearted and playful, either. These people were downright lascivious.

“We can’t automatically blame NoWait for this…odd behavior,” he hurried to say. “Not without testing.”

“That’s true,” Faye said. “Exercise does produce high amounts of endorphins to be released in the body. Endorphins that induce a ‘feel good’ effect. That could account for the behavior.”

The higher-ups wanted this situation handled with kid gloves. They wouldn’t be happy hearing that Riley and Faye wanted to yank NoWait from use. The clients loved the product. For more reasons than one.

“Or it could be,” he said, “that everyone is experiencing the high of self-esteem produced by shedding those pounds and firming up, and that’s why they’re feeling amorous. A general, all-around dose of confidence might do it.”

“Maybe,” Faye murmured. But she clearly didn’t believe it.

“Look, you need to be at that meeting,” he told her firmly. “You’ve got the inside scoop on Richard Strong. You have that evidence. You need to make our case about the NoWait. I’ll take the client off your hands.”

“I can’t let you do that. You’re the boss around here now. The director. And besides that—”

“All I have to do is go over the nutrition booklet with her, right? I’ll meet you over at the hospital just as soon as I finish with the woman, okay?” Riley could tell she was about to argue. “Listen, I can’t have the meeting with hospital administration without you. But you can start it without me. I have every confidence in you.”

The tension in her expression eased. “You’ll come right over?”

Riley assured her he would.

She plucked a file from the top of the small stack she carried and handed it to him. “Her name’s Catherine Houston. She’s twenty-six and in good health. She’s in conference room three. She’s due at the gym after her nutrition orientation. Oh, and you should probably know…” Faye paused long enough to pinch her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think she’s wealthy. Definitely upper crust. She purchased the whole line of vitamins, and some other supplements, too. And she bought several of the books we have for sale. She could be good for the clinic. So be nice to her.”

Riley’s mouth twisted. Rich, self-important people he could do without.

“Now, don’t look like that,” Faye chided. “It’s not like she’s arrogant or anything. Just the opposite, in fact. She’s really personable. Very nice. I like her. I just thought we should be nice—”

“We’re nice to everybody.”

A groan rumbled from the back of her throat and she frowned. “Oh, forget I said anything. You’re absolutely right.” She waved her free hand in the air. “I’m just trying to think of anything and everything that will help us overcome the mess that Dr. Richie left us in. This whole thing has got me inside out and I’m not thinking clearly.”

That was easy to believe. Her effusive remorse confirmed she was professional to the nth degree, and Riley knew that commenting on a client’s affluence was atypical for her. Obviously, the situation had her stressed to the max. It had everyone stressed.

“I wish Dr. Richie would show his face,” Faye muttered. “Sure would make my life easier.”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he assured her. “Go on over to the hospital and I’ll get to the meeting just as soon as I can.”

Alone in his office, he stared at the plain manila file in his hand and stifled a sigh.

Definitely upper crust.

Great. Just what he needed. A pretentious little rich girl.

He knew the type. Women who thought they were above people like him. What made it all the worse was that he knew it was true.

Faye had been adamant that this woman was friendly, but that wouldn’t keep him from feeling second-rate. His mouth cocked cynically and he snatched up his lab coat.

Well, better to get the session over with, he thought, pulling the door of his office closed behind him and making his way down the hall.

The door of the conference room was open, but the shapely blonde had her back to the door so Riley tapped to get her attention. She swung around to greet him, her shoulder-length hair swinging, her lush, shiny lips smiling to reveal two rows of perfect, pearly teeth. Her flawless skin glowed. And he imagined the silky feel of it beneath his fingertips.

Something strange twanged in his gut. The muscles there went tight as a knot. And his throat… It went so dry he felt as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of powder. The greeting he’d formed in his head refused to roll off his tongue.

Immediately, mild confusion knitted the woman’s smooth brow.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

Her voice had an exotic, Mediterranean lilt that triggered a reaction stemming from the most primitive part of his brain. The skin on the back of his neck quivered, and the urge to ask her to repeat herself welled up in him fiercely. Not because he hadn’t heard her question. No, it wasn’t that at all.

She blinked, thick, tawny lashes brushing against milky skin. “Dr. Lassen set me up with Sally Henderson, the nutritionist. Dr. Lassen said she’d try to stop by, too.”

“Sally’s out sick.” Riley moved to the oak table and set the file on it. “And Dr. Lassen was called to a meeting. It was unavoidable. Have a seat and we can go over this information.”

As greetings went, his had probably been too abrupt and not nearly friendly enough, but he seemed to be fighting his way out of a strange fog at the moment.

When she remained by the window on the far side of the room, Riley asked, “You are Catherine Houston?”

“Yes.” She tucked a strand of wavy hair behind her ear, but only advanced a step or two closer to the table.

Her hesitation surprised him. Usually, women of her ilk were confident and assertive. He waited for her to finally reach him, and then he pulled out a chair for himself, hoping she’d follow suit. Opening the file Faye had given him, Riley found the booklet and thrust it toward her.

“Read this over,” he instructed. “And I’ll answer any questions you have.”

She turned the booklet over in her hand, looked at the front and back cover. Then she flipped through the pages. A quick, unexpected grin played at the corners of her mouth, and Riley felt his belly go taut once again.

“I have to read this?” Her cute nose wrinkled.

“There is only one good—knowledge—and one evil—ignorance.”

“Socrates.”

“That’s right,” Riley said. “He was a smart man.”

“Yes, but even Socrates would balk at swallowing all this in one sitting. Eighty-six pages?” she observed, glancing down at the last page. When she looked up at him, her eyes gleamed mischievously. “I don’t mind reading. I’m just surprised you’ve got that kind of time on your hands to sit there while I do.”

If she’d felt at all uncertain before, she’d certainly made a rapid recovery.

Good and truly put in his place, Riley said, “Yes, well…I didn’t realize… Maybe we should just touch on the high points.”

She laughed, and he felt the enticing notes slowly tumble down each vertebra of his backbone. His spine arched slightly, and he rested his elbow on the top of the conference table, liking the unexpected calmness that washed over him.

“There in the introduction—” he indicated the booklet in front of her and she flipped to the appropriate page “—you’ll see that there are four basic nutrients: water, carbohydrates, proteins and fats. They’re referred to as the building blocks of a good diet.”

Her head was bent, her attention directed at the printed words. Riley couldn’t help but notice how the sunlight streaming through the window glinted off her hair, igniting it like golden fire. She looked like an entrancing goddess.

“Good nutrition,” he espoused verbatim from what he’d memorized since taking over as director, “is the foundation of good health.”

He let his gaze rove over her profile, along her high cheekbone, down her pert nose and the curve of her jaw-line.

“Choosing the healthiest forms of those four basic nutrients,” he continued, “and consuming them in the correct balance—” he took an instant to inhale the soft flowery scent of her “—will enable your body to function at its optimal level.”

Catherine Houston roused something in him. Something deep. Something basic. It was almost as if she were luring him—in a way he hadn’t been lured in a very long time.

Like a blaring horn, the dangerous thought snapped Riley out of the bizarre trance that had nearly ensnared him. He sat up straight, and with conscious effort, folded his hands into his lap.

Obviously he found the woman attractive. There was really nothing he could do about that. She was a beautiful woman. He was a red-blooded man. Physiologically, that was all it took.

She chose that moment to tip her head to the side and glance up at him. The smile she flashed beaned him like a two-by-four between the eyes, and his breath left him in a rush.

“Food is necessary,” he blurted.

Her smile magnified, and so did his internal reaction.

“What I meant to say is that good nutrition is necessary.” He slid his chair several inches from the table. “Look,” he told her, his tone sharper than he intended, “the information you have there in that booklet is self-explanatory. It’ll provide you with everything you need to know about nutrition and how what you eat affects your health. Read it at your convenience. If you have any questions, I’m sure Dr. Lassen would be happy to schedule another session with you.”

What poor business practice! Faye would be upset with him, for sure. But he needed to get away from Catherine Houston. She was short-circuiting his brainwaves and turning him into a blubbering idiot.

Her sexy mouth parted, her surprise apparent, and her full bottom lip became the all-encompassing focal point of his concentration. His gaze skittered across it, and he imagined slowly tracing the outline of the smooth, dusky skin, first with a soft caress of his thumb, then with moist strokes of his tongue.

He stood, his thigh hitting one corner of the booklet that overhung the table and sending it shooting a good foot toward the center of the table. He cleared his throat and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Are you all right?”

What was that accent? he wondered. Italian? Greek?

Riley patted his breast pocket with a shaky hand, and immediately wondered what the hell he was looking for. “Fine,” he said. “I’m fine. Like I said, read the book. And I’m sure Dr. Lassen will make herself available to you. She’d have been here today, but she was called to a meeting. And Sally’s out sick.”

“Yes,” Catherine replied quietly. “You said that.”

Great! As if uncalled-for rudeness weren’t enough, now he was looking downright dopey. The woman was turning him into a blubbering idiot!

“Of course, I did. I was just…” He nodded, letting the rest of the thought fade because he had no idea what the hell the rest of the thought was. He was just what? So preoccupied with this woman’s physical attributes that he’d lost track of what he had and hadn’t said? “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll point the way to the gym. I’m sure you can find it. You don’t seem directionally challenged.”

Directionally challenged? Where was his brain coming up with this crap?

“There’s a trainer wait—”

“Just a moment, please.”

Riley went silent. There was sudden authority in her voice he hadn’t heard before. He was just glad she’d said something that made him shut the hell up.

“I’ve been talking to some of the other clients,” she said. “They told me about a weight-loss aid that the clinic offers.”

“You want to lose weight?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his query. It was really none of his business why she’d come to the clinic, and humiliating the clients with discourteously toned questions was a worse business practice than asking them to reschedule appointments. But…

Why on earth would she think she needed to lose weight?

Her cheeks tinged pink. “I’ve got these nagging five pounds.”

This was a prime example of why this job was going to send him round the bend. Helping to make perfect bodies even more perfect wasn’t his idea of practicing medicine.

“So buy bigger trousers.”

As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, Riley knew he’d made a terrible mistake.

But Catherine Houston didn’t tell him off as he expected. Even though she probably had every right to. However, she didn’t even seem insulted by his blunder. She remained amazingly composed.

No negative emotion tainted either her tone or her expression as she said, “Since buying bigger trousers isn’t an option for my next shopping excursion, I’d like to ask you about NoWait.” She paused, but not long enough for him to respond. “Everyone I’ve talked to just raves about the product. I’ve heard that it’s all-natural. Can you tell me about it? What’s it made of? How does it work? And how can I get my hands on a bottle?”

Riley pushed back the open facings of his lab coat and tucked his fists into his pockets. “I’m sorry to say the clinic isn’t endorsing NoWait at the moment. That could change, of course. And if it does, we’ll let you know. But—”

“Oh.” Her smile waned. “I’d heard such amazing things about it, though. I was told a dab of the oil behind the ears melts off the pounds.”

That was only one effect, unfortunately, Riley thought. The other one was a bit kinkier.

The decision to pull the oil made good sense. The change in the behavior of those who had been using NoWait was blatant. If word got out that the clinic was promoting a product that had people feeling uninhibited and spontaneously sexual, it could result in some very bad press for the clinic, and in this litigious day and age it could also mean lawsuits galore.

The silence grew awkward, and he realized she was waiting for more information. Well, she wouldn’t get it from him.

“Another way to accomplish your goal,” he said, “is by working out at our exercise facility.” Proud of his smooth transition, he continued, “The gym is on the second floor. Take the elevator at the end of the hall. You can’t miss it.”

From the look on her face, he could tell she recognized the dismissal for what it was. Her silky blond hair fell over her shoulder as she shifted to pick up the booklet from the table. She took her time sliding out of her chair, the muscles in her shapely legs tensing, long and lean.

Riley didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself.

Placing her hands on the padded armrests, she raised up to her full height. She had excellent posture, he noticed, his gaze skimming along the flare of her hips, her trim waist, the lush curve of her breasts. His tongue stuck to the roof of his cottony mouth. He couldn’t swallow.

The woman was a knockout.

Her sapphire eyes flashed. “I want to thank you for the time you’ve spent with me today. You’ve been very helpful.”

She lied with the utter perfection of having been schooled in the art. If his cheek muscles hadn’t been paralyzed by her mere presence, he just might have smiled.

When she took a step toward him, the light scent of sun-warmed flowers wafted in the still air of the conference room. His gut tensed, and he could almost feel the smoky tendrils of that enticing trance plucking at him, tempting him all over again.

Time to make an exit. Riley murmured, “Have a great evening.”

The fact that it was only two in the afternoon wasn’t lost on him, but it was too late to retract his valediction, as he’d already turned on his heel and scurried from the room like a frightened rabbit.

Oregon was a lush and beautiful state. Catherine had landed in LAX and chartered a small private plane to Portland. This city had been very lucky for her cousin Max. He’d found great happiness here. Was she hoping it would be lucky for her, too?

Sighing, she lifted her face up to the sunshine. The trainer she’d met in the gym had encouraged her to work hard. Then she’d whiled away the afternoon with a good, long steam, a massage and a warm shower. She felt like a new woman as she pushed open the glass doors and exited the clinic.

She’d told her father she needed time. That hadn’t been a lie. She wished she had more than the two weeks he’d given her to get used to the idea of marrying a man she didn’t love. She’d told her father she planned to shop for her trousseau. On that point she’d stretched the truth a bit, she feared. Shopping for a wedding she wanted nothing to do with wasn’t high on her priority list.

She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for from this trip. But for right now, she simply wanted to forget about home, forget she was royal, forget all about her impending engagement, her looming nuptials. She wanted to be just like everyone else. Was that so much to ask?

“Dr. Lassen, hello!” Catherine was pleasantly surprised to meet the nutritionist in the outdoor breezeway between the hospital and the new health clinic. “It’s a beautiful afternoon, isn’t it?”

“Lovely.” The doctor greeted her with a smile. “I’m awfully sorry I couldn’t check in on you as I’d promised, Catherine.”

“It’s quite all right. I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you look awfully harried.”

The woman nodded. “I just came out of a meeting. Many men. Much testosterone.”

“Stressful, huh?” Catherine grinned. “Sounds like you need a break. I was just looking for a place to have a cup of tea. Want to join me?”

Dr. Lassen shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other. “I’d love to. And I’d kill for a muffin to go along with it. I worked right through lunch today and then I had to meet with hospital administration all afternoon.”

“Let’s find you something to eat, then,” Catherine said.

“There’s a coffee shop just around the corner.”

They headed off along the crowded sidewalk.

“How did you make out today?” Dr. Lassen asked.

Humor had Catherine’s mouth twitching. “Who was that man you sent to see me? The one who filled in for Sally.”

“Dr. Riley Jacobs. He’s the new director at the clinic,” she said.

Dr. Riley Jacobs. His treatment of her had left Catherine feeling a bit put off. And surprised.

She’d read a great write-up about Portland’s Healthy Living Clinic in the newspaper the very first day of her arrival. Apparently it was a friendly place, one that was extremely popular with the locals. Unlike some of the exclusive fitness centers that catered to the affluent sector of the population, this clinic was a facility where anyone and everyone could go to improve their health and well-being.

Since she’d decided to shed her royal status and become a run-of-the-mill tourist for a bit, Catherine had thought that the clinic could be the perfect place for her to meet people as well as lose a few extra pounds.

She’d toured the clinic with Faye Lassen yesterday and had arrived today feeling fired up about starting her fitness regimen…but the handsome Dr. Riley Jacobs had nearly snuffed out her flame.

“Why?” Faye frowned slightly. “What did he do?”

“Well,” Catherine began, “I guess it’s more what he didn’t do.”

Before she could explain further, they arrived at the coffee shop and spent a few moments being seated by the hostess. And then the waitress arrived with menus.

“I don’t believe we need those,” Catherine told the teenager. “We’d like two cups of tea, please. And a muffin for Dr. Lassen.”

“Blueberry or low-fat bran?” the waitress asked the doctor.

Dr. Lassen chose the bran.

Once the teen walked away, Dr. Lassen planted both elbows on the tabletop. “Now that you’ve rescued me for a much-needed break, I think that makes us friends, don’t you think? You have to call me Faye.”

Catherine smiled. “I’ll be happy to call you both. Faye and friend.”

Faye reached for the napkin, shook it out and placed it in her lap. “Now let’s get back to Dr. Jacobs and what it was he didn’t do. He was supposed to go over the nutrition information with you, but if you have to ask his name, it seems he didn’t even introduce himself.”

“Oh, he attempted to go over the information,” she assured Faye. “But something happened. He seemed to become…” Catherine searched for just the right word, but finally had to settle on one that didn’t seem to her to be quite appropriate. “Befuddled.”

Faye reached up and pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “I’d use a lot of words to describe Dr. Jacobs, but befuddled would never be one of them. He’s extremely capable. Very intense. So much so that he can be a little grumpy at times.”

“Bearish and brusque was the description I came up with.” Catherine grinned. Once he’d left the conference room and she realized that her nose had gotten out of joint, she’d decided that no one—other than her father—had ever treated her so curtly before. She’d wanted to call after Dr. Jacobs and ask if he had any idea just who she was. However, she’d immediately chuckled to herself.

Of course, he hadn’t had any idea who she was. And that was exactly how she wanted it.

The entire time she was working out in the gym, she’d thought about the incident, and she was actually pleased that the man had felt free enough to show his true colors. If he’d known her identity, he’d have probably been less candid.

She’d wanted to forget the problem she was facing and experience the regular, workaday world. And that was just what she was doing.

“Ah, so you did see his gruff side.”

“Just a touch.”

Faye sighed. “Sorry about that.”

The waitress served their tea and Faye’s muffin. Both women thanked the girl before she went off to check on other customers.

“Don’t apologize,” Catherine said to Faye, automatically reaching for the string attached to the tea bag. “He didn’t bother me. In fact, I may have deserved the terseness. I was pressing for information, you see. I’d heard about NoWait from some of the people I’d talked to before leaving the clinic yesterday. When he told me the oil wasn’t being used any longer, I should have left well enough alone.” She lifted one shoulder a fraction. “But I didn’t.”

Faye’s mouth flattened. “Yes, we have pulled NoWait. For the time being, anyway. In fact, Dr. Jacobs is still in the meeting with hospital administration. He arrived after he’d met with you. It was his decision to stop using NoWait. But I back him one hundred percent.”

Catherine was disappointed all over again. From what she’d heard from the people in the gym that oil was like some kind of phenomenon. “That’s too bad.”

“It was causing some side effects that were…unexpected.” Faye seemed to put extra effort into splitting her muffin in half.

The comment made Catherine curious, but her probing for information on NoWait had already gotten her into trouble once today so she let her questions go unasked. “Well, unexpected side effects can’t be good.”

Faye lifted her chin. “That’s the consensus of hospital administration, too. But we’re thinking of doing some testing. That’s what Dr. Jacobs is up there discussing now.” She nibbled the muffin and swallowed. “Now, back to your session with him. Did he answer your questions about a healthy diet? If not, I’m going to give him what for when I get back to the clinic.”

“Oh, please, no.” Catherine set the tea bag on the saucer. “Don’t say anything to him. As I said, he did go over a little bit with me.”

A very little bit.

She paused long enough to sip from the cup. “But then he got all flustered and started repeating himself.” She tried not to smile. “He seemed to be a little confused with the time of day. He was tense about something, that much was clear.” Absently, she picked up her spoon and swirled it in the hot liquid. “He actually ended up rushing out of the room.”

“Hmmm.” Faye’s eyebrows arched. “That sure doesn’t sound like him at all.” Something in her gaze twinkled. “But the mere peculiarity of it does sound interesting, though.”

After a moment, Catherine commented, “He doesn’t smile much, does he?” Then she lapsed back into memories of her short time with him. Finally, she couldn’t hold back her question any longer. “Is he married?”

Faye stirred a splash of cream into her tea. “Dr. Jacobs? No.”

The cup warmed Catherine’s fingers as she cradled it between both hands. “He’s quite good-looking.”

“Um-hmm,” Faye agreed. She tipped her head a fraction. “You interested?”

“Let’s put it this way, I like handsome men just as much as any other woman does.” Catherine straightened the angle of the spoon sitting in her saucer. “I don’t mind admitting that there’s something about Dr. Jacobs that intrigues me….”

Ever since she’d turned twenty-one, she’d had a slew of men chosen for her—very wealthy, very appropriate, very boring and forgettable men. But there was nothing about Riley Jacobs that was forgettable. In fact, he had been on her mind all afternoon. What was it about him that attracted her?

Almost as if she’d heard the silent question that whispered through Catherine’s head, Faye teasingly suggested, “Could it be the challenge?”

A mysterious and awesome sensation suddenly filled her…a sensation so delicious it had her wanting to curl her toes into the soles of her shoes.

“Could be,” Catherine breathed. “It very well could be.”

Two

C atherine sat in the exam room tapping her fingers against the side of the paper-covered mattress on which she sat. When she’d asked to make an appointment with Dr. Jacobs, she’d meant she merely wanted to talk to the man. However, the receptionist must have misunderstood and thought she needed medical assistance and had escorted her here.

Oh, well. It didn’t matter to Catherine if she talked to Riley in his office or in an examination room. She only wanted to talk to him.

Although the walls were painted a peaceful shade of blue, the newness of everything lent a stark feel. She wondered if all doctors in America tended to their patients in such impersonal surroundings.

A robe had been draped on the mattress for her. But she hadn’t touched it. Catherine couldn’t imagine taking off her clothing and wrapping the flimsy fabric around her body.

She felt a sudden appreciation for the royal physician who was on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the von Husden family. Dr. Wallingford rushed to the palace to treat her father or her sisters or herself in the comfort of their own bedchambers whenever the need arose. However, house calls, as Americans would call them, were a thing of the past in this fast-paced, ultramodern society, she was sure.

Sitting on the exam table, Catherine felt her heart flutter. Her bout of nerves was caused by the brazenness of summoning Dr. Riley Jacobs, she knew. There wasn’t a darn thing wrong with her. And she wondered how he would react to that. What he would say. How he would be. But the most interesting speculation of all was whether she could make him smile.

That was her sole goal in being here.

Normally, anywhere she went she was treated with the utmost respect. Everyone she met practically fell over themselves to supply her every whim. But Dr. Jacobs didn’t know she was Princess Catherine von Husden. He’d had no idea when they’d met the day before yesterday that he’d been in the presence of royalty.

Royalty schmoyalty. What good was a gem-encrusted tiara, she wondered, if it kept you guessing whether people were treating you well simply because you were who you were, or because they truly wanted to be your friend?

She wanted Dr. Jacobs to be her friend. Heck, that wasn’t the full truth. She wanted more from him than that. She’d come to Portland seeking a naughty adventure. This vacation she’d planned would be her one and only chance to experience the sparks that flashed between a man and a woman.

All she had to do was figure out how to make his sparks flash. Catherine chuckled at the thought.

However, instinct told her that if she was going to get anywhere with the good doctor, the first thing she had to do was make him smile.

Two short raps on the door had her lifting her gaze. Dr. Jacobs pushed his way into the small exam room, his brow marred with a frown.

“So where are you hurting? You strain a muscle in the gym?”

Nothing like being direct. He was so grumpy, it was kind of cute.

“Hello to you, too,” she said.

Her bright greeting made him pause. He remained silent, just looking at her, and Catherine took full advantage of the quick second to give him a thorough once-over.

His eyes were a rich shade of brown with enticing flecks of amber. His eyelashes were thick. His hair—chestnut-brown with deep red highlights—was short and traditionally styled. She liked his clean-cut look. His smooth skin had an olive tone.

“When you were training to become a doctor,” she quipped, “you must have missed the lesson on bedside manner.”

The bedazzling smile she offered him had won over the Queen of England, herself. Surely it would charm him, too.

His frown faded, but his wide mouth didn’t curl up at the ends as she had hoped it would. Well, she’d just have to try harder.

“Just trying to get down to business.” He tossed the file onto the counter and reached for the stethoscope draped around his neck.

“I can’t say I know a thing about being a doctor,” she began, “but I’d think part of the ‘business’ of treating people is garnering their trust. Putting them at ease so they’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you about their problem.”

His jaw went tight. Apparently he didn’t take kindly to her friendly advice.

Feeling suddenly mischievous, she wondered just how far she could goad him until he caught on that he was being goaded.

“What would it hurt for you to have come into the room and greeted me with a happy hello?”

He dipped his chin just a bit. “Lady, I don’t give anyone a happy hello.”

That didn’t surprise her in the least. “Well, maybe you should. And how about asking about my day? That might be nice.”

The man looked about to implode, and Catherine could barely contain her laughter.

“Do you know,” she continued, “that we met two days ago, sat down together and talked, and you never even introduced yourself. I didn’t know your name until I asked Dr. Lassen. You’re too tense, Dr. Jacobs. Too focused.” She pinched her chin between her thumb and fingers, narrowing her gaze. “Do you think that’s a problem you might need to work on?”

A storm brewed all around him.

“I’ll have you know,” he said, “that up until a week and a half ago, I was treating real patients with real problems. I didn’t have time for happy hellos.” Annoyance tightened the muscles in his face, making the angles sharper, more defined. “The people I treated were most often unconscious and completely helpless. There wasn’t time for polite conversation.”

Wow, she’d whipped him up into a real huff. She ought to be ashamed that she’d enjoyed doing it.

Curiosity had her wondering about the previous job he’d just described, but now wasn’t the time to ask. She was too close to her goal of provoking him to his limit. She tilted her head and queried, “So you’re saying I’m not real?”

She injected the question with a jesting tone, let the humor she felt twinkle in her eyes.

Finally realizing he was being purposely prodded, he shook his head. Then he looked down at the floor, chuckling.

The sound was rich and heady. Catherine liked it. A lot.

And when he lifted his gaze to hers, he was smiling.

Smiling.

A tingling heat permeated Catherine’s entire body.

“No,” he said softly. “I’m not saying that at all. You’re perfectly real.”

He draped his stethoscope back around his neck and laced his fingers together at his waist.

“You should smile more often,” she told him.

He nodded. “You’re probably right.”

Silence hung between them, heavy and cumbersome. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn that the temperature in the room rose several degrees.

Her grin was smug. “No probably about it. That smile suits you. Loosens up everything. The tenseness in your body—” without thought, her tone lowered an octave “—in our conversation…in the very air.”

She did feel an easing of the strain in him, both physically and emotionally, and in their conversation. But the air remained dense. Deliciously thick. His irritation was no longer the culprit, she realized. What swirled around them now was something shadowy. Something both mysterious and exciting.

Catherine hoped he didn’t intend to use that stethoscope to listen to her heart any time soon, because if he did, he couldn’t miss the way it fluttered against her ribs.

“Okay, so maybe we need to start over.” He offered her his hand. “Hello. My name is Dr. Riley Jacobs.”

She slid her palm against his and curled her fingers around his hand. His skin was warm, his handshake firm.

“I’m Catherine Houston,” she told him, pleased to play along. “My family calls me Cat. But I prefer Catherine.”

“Catherine it is, then.”

The handshake ended and she felt a twinge of disappointment.

“And how are you today?” He measured each word carefully.

“Much better now.”

Much better! she thought.

“So what brings you in to see me today? Did you strain a muscle? Are you sore from overexertion?”

In a sudden quandary, Catherine remained silent. He was being pleasant now, sure. But as soon as she told him there was nothing wrong with her, he’d probably be peeved that she’d wasted his time.

“Well,” she started out haltingly, “I don’t really have a physical injury.”

“Oh?” Uncertainty clouded his eyes, yet at the same time curiosity had his brows arching the tiniest bit.

“I don’t know if you’re aware,” she said, “but I’m a visitor to Portland. I came here because my cousin visited the city not too long ago and he just raved about the place.”

Her cousin Max had met his wife here in Oregon. And he’d defied convention completely when he’d married Ivy Crosby, too.

“So I thought I’d escape from…everything—” The words snagged in her throat and she gave a small cough. She needed to be careful or she was going to give away her secret. “I wanted to see what kind of fun I could find in Portland,” she finished.

“And what kind of fun have you found?”

He was giving tolerance and patience a valiant effort, but she could tell this small talk was driving him nuts.

She couldn’t help but observe, “You’re really a workaholic, aren’t you?”

Her question took him aback. There was defensiveness in his tone when he said, “I don’t know that I’d say that.”

Catherine ignored him. “You must have a reputation of working hard. How else could you land the top job at a place like this? I mean, look at you. You’re champing at the bit to do something—analyze my symptoms, diagnose my problem—so you can move on to the next crisis.”

His rigid shoulders relaxed and he actually laughed.

She’d found him appealing before, but this laid-back manner of his enthralled her.

“Sounds like I’m the one being diagnosed here. But I don’t mind reminding you that you’re the one who made this appointment. With me. The doctor. The one wearing the white coat and the stethoscope. So if we can just stick to the topic at hand…” He tossed her a pointed look.

Chagrin had her averting her gaze, and she shifted her hips until the edge of exam table pressed against the backs of her knees.

“You were explaining this nonphysical problem of yours,” he prompted.

“I was.” Bolstering herself with a deep breath, she said, “The people I’ve met here at the clinic’s gym are great, but everyone seems so busy with work or their families. No one seems to have time for a new friend. I was able to enjoy a cup of tea with Dr. Lassen. But I’ve been eating dinner alone every night. I’ve been doing a little sight-seeing, but—” she sighed dramatically “—it’s just not the same when you’re all on your own.”

With each sentence she spoke the crease between his eyebrows cut deeper into his forehead.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re suffering from loneliness?”

“Well, you don’t have to say it like that.” She tucked her arms across her chest and informed him, “It’s a perfectly legitimate ailment.”

Even though humor continued to sparkle in his chocolate eyes, he did a great job of mustering up some solemnity. “Of course it is.”

She forced her spine to straighten. “So it’s official? I’ve been diagnosed?” Without waiting for him to answer her silly questions, she barreled ahead. “Then what I’d like you to do is write me a prescription. For some company. For some conversation.” She thought a moment and then boldly announced, “I think a sight-seeing tour of Portland would be nice. Coffee and dessert would be great. Oh, and dinner, too. Not necessarily in that order, of course.”

He looked quite stunned. She decided to go in for the kill before he could regain his wits.

“And if you’re truly dedicated to your profession,” she said, “you’ll volunteer to be my guide for the evening.”

Now he had that deer-caught-in-headlights expression, and it was all Catherine could do not to laugh.

“Y-you want a date?”

She flashed a huge grin at him, purposefully mistaking his question. “I’d love a date, thank you. I accept your invitation, Dr. Jacobs.”

Later that same day, Riley sat at his desk and listened as Carrie Martin explained her story.

“I had no idea who that Dr. Richie person was up there in front of that crowd.”

The woman’s eyes had taken on a haunted look, and sympathy rose up in Riley. Obviously, Carrie was reliving that awful confrontation she’d initiated during Dr. Richie’s last seminar before he’d disappeared. Up until now, he’d only heard rumor and innuendo, and he’d squelched that as quickly as he could, thinking that was best for the clinic and its reputation. But this woman had been deeply affected by the ugly incident that she, herself, had admittedly been the center of.

“I mean, he resembled the man I’d married years ago in Florida,” she continued, “but that Dr. Richie person strutting back and forth and tossing out all that overly dramatized gibberish was just too…” Her sentence trailed off and she shook her head.

Riley had never personally met Richard Strong, but having inherited the job of cleaning up the man’s mess here at the clinic—and the potential problems that could ensue—Riley had certainly learned a great deal of secondhand information about the man. Some people loved him, saw him as charismatic. He apparently had a way of garnering people’s trust. And Riley had heard it said that the man could sell ice cubes in Antarctica. And the suits in Administration had loved that “salesman” aspect of Dr. Richie’s personality. Plus, when he’d accepted the job of running the clinic, the famous guru of the Northwest had brought quite a fan following along with him.

But there were plenty of people who had their doubts about the man and his tactics.

“I just can’t believe what he’s done,” Carrie continued, amazement filling her tone to the brim. “What kind of person is he that he felt he needed to change his name?”

Riley perked up. “He changed his name?”

“Yes,” Carrie said. “He was born Strokudnowski. Richard Strokudnowski.”

A difficult name to spell, Riley decided as he attempted to jot it down.

“Well, there’s really nothing wrong with a name change,” he told her. “Lots of people do it.” Riley hoped he didn’t offend her. He only meant to offer another view. “Especially prominent people. Stars and the like. They want to be called something that makes an impact, something that’s easy to remember. Strong is much easier to remember than Strow…Strew…” His eyes grew wide when he realized that Richard Strong’s given name had slipped right out of his brain.

“Strokudnowski.” Her mouth quirked. “I see what you mean.”

“And surely you know,” he went on, “that Dr. Richie has been making a name for himself in the fitness world for some time now.”

“I’ve recently discovered his fame.” She winced as she asked, “But Dr. Richie? It sounds so lame.”

Riley shrugged. He thought the name sounded pretty silly, too, and wanted to shake his head every time he was forced to say it, but who knew how the Dr. Richie phenomenon got started?

“Sometimes a person grows larger than life,” he suggested, “and the fans are the ones who do the choosing.”

Her expression told him she hadn’t thought of that possibility before this moment.

“Dr. Jacobs, I need to find him.” She scooted to the edge of the seat. “I feel so bad about what I did, about what I said in that seminar. I need him to know that. Can you tell me where he’s gone? Did he move out of the state? Did he take a job at another clinic?”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, truly empathizing with the woman. “I don’t know where he is. Actually, we’re looking for him, too.”

Her eyes grow round. “Is he in trouble? Did I—”

“He’s not in trouble,” he assured her. “We’ve decided to do some testing on his weight-loss treatment.”

“NoWait.”

Riley nodded.

“I was asked to go give back my bottle,” she said.

Again, he nodded. “We’re hoping to collect as much of it as we can.”

“I’m relieved.”

Her response startled him into silence. Most of the clinic’s clients were upset about having to surrender their NoWait.

“Dr. Jacobs,” she said in a lower tone, “I’ve been visiting the clinic for weeks now. Since that oil was introduced, people around here have been acting like a bunch of horny toads ready to dry-hump anything that stands still long enough.” Her jaw dropped open and the color drained from her face. “I can’t believe I said that to a perfect stranger. I tend to let down my guard with people way too quick. Please forgive me.”

Riley cleared his throat, quashing his urge to chuckle, and attempted to remain unruffled. “It’s quite all right. This is an, uh, unusual situation we find ourselves in. We’re all a little off-kilter.” He rushed to get the conversation back to the testing. “There’s quite a bit of money being made today in specialty medicines meant to treat sexual disorders. If—and that’s a big if—Richard Strong has come up with a topical treatment made of natural ingredients, the results could be far reaching. But testing needs to be done. We’re going to get it started, but we’d like Dr. Richie to head up the effort.”

Once she’d regained her composure, Carrie said, “I feel I really need to be frank here. The man I married wasn’t—” She stopped, uncertainty shadowing her face. Then she tried again. “Although the Richard I attended college with was very caring and wanted very much to help people, there was no way I’d allow him to prepare any kind of remedy for me. He wasn’t a detail-oriented person, if you know what I mean, and formulating substances wasn’t one of his strongest talents.”

Ah, Riley thought, so the man’s less-than-scholarly reputation wasn’t just a myth.

“Don’t worry,” Riley assured her. “He’d have chemists and lab assistances at his disposal. However, judging from the amorous behavior we’ve witnessed, it seems he’s on to something significant.”

Carrie took a deep breath. “So you’re trying to find him?”

“Very discreetly. We know he’s still in town. He’s been seen. But he’s not answering his phone or returning calls. The staff here has to be very careful. It’s not like he’s missing, or in danger. He has a right not to be found if that’s what he wants.”

The woman nodded. “But I can look for him, right? I won’t be breaking any laws if I look for him myself?”

“I don’t believe so.” He flattened his palms out on the desktop. “If you do find him, please have him come to see us. Or tell him at least to call.”

Regret rounded her shoulders, and she clutched the handbag on her lap. “The way he left the conference room that day,” she said, “I’m sure he’s feeling very embarrassed.”

Riley agreed but he didn’t allow himself to nod. He didn’t want to make her feel any worse than she already did.

“Dr. Jacobs, was there ever a time when you wished you could relive a day in your life? Just one day? Just one hour? Heck, I’d take reliving just one minute. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could reach out and snatch back the words we say that hurt someone else?”

“Everyone has had that wish at one time or another.”

But Carrie hadn’t heard him. He could tell. She was too wrapped up in her misery.

She stared, unseeing, at a spot just over his left shoulder as she whispered, “What I wouldn’t give to be able to take it all back.”

Riley walked through the plush lobby with Catherine on his arm, still dumbfounded that one, he’d allowed himself to be bamboozled into a date, and two, that the bamboozler was the innocent-looking yet heart-stoppingly gorgeous woman at his side.

He’d spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out just how she’d gotten him to agree to take her to dinner. She hadn’t threatened or harassed. She hadn’t even pestered him, really. She’d lulled him into some sort of trancelike state—the same turmoil that had frightened the bejesus out of him the first time they’d met—and then she’d swooped in to exploit his weakened condition.

Riley prayed to high heaven that she hadn’t really realized he’d been suffering with a helpless fragility due to his oh-too-physical reaction to her, and that he’d merely agreed to treat the outlandish illness she’d labeled as lonesomeness by taking her out on the town.

But he wasn’t certain the town of Portland was ready for the likes of Catherine Houston. He cut her a quick sidelong glance.

She was a stunner. The black dress she wore clung to the curves of her luscious body. Her stiletto heels accentuated about a mile’s worth of firm and shapely legs. She was enough to make a man salivate.

“So what do you have planned?”

Her voice sounded like a soft caress.

Normally well grounded in realism, Riley was not a fanciful thinker. Relating her question to a soft touch was out-of-character for him. But even that realization didn’t keep the hair on his arms from standing on end. Riley shook his head and inhaled a lungful of mind-clearing oxygen.

“It’s a surprise,” he told her, holding open the heavy glass door for her. “We still have some daylight left. I have something I want to show you. One of my favorite places. We won’t get to stay long because they close at six. But you’ll get to experience a little of it, at least.”

Portland’s Classical Chinese Garden was a walled oasis. Located smack-dab in the center of “old town,” the gardens encompassed a full block of serpentine walkways, open colonnades and Asian architecture. The landscape was meticulously arranged with rare and unusual plants, mosaic stone paths and a small bridged lake.

Delight shined from Catherine’s eyes when they entered, and Riley told her, “Believe it or not, this used to be a parking lot. Back in the eighties, Portland became a sister city with Suzhou, China. Not long after, this land was donated and construction began on the garden.”

For several long moments they walked in silence, simply enjoying the sights, sounds and scents of nature.

Closing her eyes, she tipped up her chin and inhaled. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “I just love jasmine. Always have.”

Riley let his gaze trail down the long length of her milky throat. He envisioned himself pressing his nose to her heated, silky skin.

Realization suddenly struck. “That’s what you smell like. Jasmine.”

Her blue eyes sparked with appreciation, and warmth rushed to his face. He had no idea why he felt embarrassed over his remark. This woman made him react in the most peculiar ways.

“I—I couldn’t place the flowery scent in your perfume before,” he stammered. “But now I know. It’s jasmine.”

Her wide mouth curled softly. Deliciously. He got the distinct sense that she was grateful he’d noticed. The expression on her lovely face caused a repositioning of the warmth that had been in his face and neck, and the heat raced right to the pit of his gut.

“A French perfumery makes this scent just for me,” she said, and as soon as the words slipped from her lips, she looked annoyed.

“What is it?”

One wavy blond tress fell over her shoulder when she shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she told him.

“Of course it’s something. Your brow is knitted tighter than the wool scarf my mother sent me for my birthday.” He stopped, deciding not to take another step on the stone pathway until she answered his question.

She halted a couple steps ahead and then had to turn to face him. Evidently realizing she’d have to confess, she shrugged. “It’s just that I’m not a good liar.”

He chuckled. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Well, I wanted to spend my time in Portland as any other average, ordinary woman.” Irony tightened one corner of her mouth. “But average, ordinary women don’t have perfume specially blended in France, do they?”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about her query. But one thing was clear. Faye had been correct; Catherine was a cut above. Just how far above, he had no idea.

“Catherine,” he began, “even without your small slipup, there’s no way that I’d ever think you were average. There’s not one thing about you that’s ordinary.”

Her countenance only became more glum and that made him chuckle out loud. But he quickly checked himself. People visiting the gardens liked the quiet. It was what they came here for.

“Stop that frowning,” he ordered. “Sticking out in a sea of standard isn’t a bad thing, Catherine. Some people can’t help it. And you’re one of them.”

Her face brightened a little. “If anyone ever asks me, I’ll just have to say that, no matter how grumpy the good doctor can be, he certainly can give nice compliments.”

He waved off her teasing. They started off down the path, and the heel of Catherine’s shoe caught on the stones. She lurched forward. Riley caught her by the upper arm and automatically drew her securely against his chest.

He couldn’t tell if the warm scent of jasmine in the air was coming from the flowers nearby or from her skin. Her golden hair brushed his cheek like the feathers of an angel’s wing.

“I’m sorry. These shoes aren’t very good on this uneven ground.” He supported her while she lifted one knee and bent to rub her ankle.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he told her. “I should have known better than to bring you—”

“Stop,” she insisted, lowering her foot back to the ground. “I’m fine. But can we sit for few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He led her to a nearby pavilion and they sat on the bench. A waterfall gurgled just behind them, and peace seemed to permeate the very air.

“This place is just wonderful,” Catherine breathed.

“I come here often. I enjoy trying to figure out the meaning behind the poetry couplets that are scattered throughout the garden. And I like the fact that each artistic effect in the garden has an important symbolic meaning.”

She nodded. “Now I get it.”

“Get what?”

“When we first arrived,” she said, “I couldn’t understand why a man like you would even know about a place like this.”

He didn’t understand. “A man like me?” He lifted one hand, palm up. “A place like this?”

“You have to admit that you and this garden are, well, opposites. Close your eyes a second and feel it. This place is serene and stress-free, content to simply exist. Sure, I hardly know you, but from what I’ve witnessed, you’re none of those things.”

Her tongue skipped across her dusky lips, and Riley had to force himself not to stare.

“But the poetry and the symbolism,” she continued, “make this a thinking man’s garden, now don’t they?”

Riley felt discomfited. He wasn’t sure he liked being analyzed. She’d done the same thing earlier today, evaluated his character.

“You don’t have to answer.” She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Catherine crossed her long, sexy legs, then leaned forward, resting her forearm on her knee. She looked down at the ground, and then tipped up her chin to gaze into his face. Like a magnet, her creamy cleavage drew his gaze.

Something amazing gathered in those deep blue eyes of hers. And just as amazing were the mysterious tendrils that seemed to sprout from the very ground and climb along his legs, grappling and grasping and plucking at him.

Touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.

The phantom whisper seemed to come from nowhere. And everywhere. Every leaf, every drop of water, every pebble and rock vibrated with a wraithlike energy that called him to act.

The urge to reach out and stroke the graceful line of her jaw nearly overpowered him.

Riley’s mouth went desert-dry, and he cleared his throat with a small cough.

“We should go,” he told her. He stood, before the strange spell completely smothered all his good and logical sense. “I have other places for you to see, other things for us to do. This is a tour, remember.”

Determination resided on her pretty face, hinting that she was quite happy with the “thing” they were doing right now. But he pushed the issue by holding out his hand to her.

And after exhaling a quick, regretful sigh, she took it.

Three

D usk was falling as he headed out of the city on Highway 29. Riley didn’t have to go far. Satisfaction took root in him when, rounding a slight bend in the road, he heard Catherine’s sharp intake of breath.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

“That’s Mount Hood.” He pulled to the shoulder and cut the engine. “In just a minute, you’ll see why this is called Sunset Highway.”

The sun hung low on the horizon, and the alpenglow it cast on the snow-covered cliff face was a pink so deep that they both went speechless for several long moments. They sat in silence. The color intensified, diffusing from pink to mauve, and from mauve to a rich magenta. Once the sun had disappeared altogether, the icy precipice radiated an electric midnight blue.

Finally, twilight darkened the sky, and the brightest of the stars became visible and twinkled overhead. The air in the car was still and quiet. Catherine’s jasmine scent caressed each breath Riley took. But then his breath caught in his throat when he heard the erotic sound of fabric against leather as she shifted on the seat.

“Wow.” She turned to face him, speaking softly, almost reverently. “At first I was disappointed that we were leaving the city. But that was…amazing. Thank you for bringing me out here to see it.”

“You’re welcome.” Riley turned the key and the engine roared to life. “We need to make a beeline back to Portland,” he told her, checking to see that the roadway was clear before making a tight U-turn. “I hope we don’t hit any traffic because we’ve got dinner reservations in twenty minutes. I hope you like Italian.”

“I love Italian.”

During the drive back to Portland, they chatted about Catherine’s workout routine, and Riley was pleased to hear that she found the clinic staff helpful and friendly.

He couldn’t help but notice that her voice held a spark that lifted his spirits, a playfulness that he found enticing. This woman allured him, that was undeniable.

As it turned out, finding a parking spot was their biggest problem. They’d had to circle the block three times before finding an available space. Riley took Catherine’s arm so they could hurry down the street to the restaurant. They arrived with barely a minute to spare. They were out of breath and grinning as they were seated at their table.

He ordered wine, and after he went through the tasting ritual, the waiter filled their glasses and left them alone to look over the menu.

“The antipasto is delicious,” he suggested.

Her pert nose wrinkled. “But the cheese and the olives and the pepperoni.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “Lots of calories. I think I’ll have a green salad.”

His eye traveled down the list of entrees. “I’ve had the shrimp with linguini,” he told her. “It’s out of this world.”

“Shrimp are full of cholesterol.”

He arched his brows a fraction, but remained silent.

“I never knew that,” she said, “until I read about it in the clinic’s nutrition book.”

Spying another of his favorites, he offered, “The ravioli with classic Bolognese is delicious. They make the ravioli by hand right back there in the kitchen.”

“Heavy cream, pancetta,” she read the ingredients aloud from the menu description. She looked up at him. “It’s all so fattening.”

Frustration got the better of him. “But that’s what makes it so good.”

Her mouth screwed up, and she muttered, “Tell me about it.”

“Catherine, splurging once in a while isn’t going to kill you.”

She sighed. “You’ve never had a weight problem, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. And I seriously doubt that you ever have, either. I’ll go even farther out on the limb and say that about eighty percent of the people who visit the clinic don’t have any real weight problems. The biggest problem, I think, is in their heads. In their perceptions of themselves.”

At that moment, the waiter arrived to take their order. With his feathers duly ruffled, Riley chose the antipasto and the shrimp linguini. And when it came time for dessert, he intended to order something rich and chocolaty, too.

“I’d like the house salad,” Catherine told the waiter. “Dressing on the side, please. And I’ll have the spaghetti marinara with just a shaving or two of parmesan.”

“I’ll be right back with your salads.” The waiter took their menus and retreated to the kitchen.

Riley picked up his glass and sipped his wine.

Catherine settled back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I see that I need to set you straight on a thing or two. I did have a problem with my weight when I was a child. I was a roly-poly little girl. And lonely, as well.

“I’m surprised that you’d demean the people who seek help from your clinic by diminishing the trouble they’re having with self-control and with motivating themselves to exercise. Granted, being overweight isn’t imminently life-threatening. But it leads to terrible health problems. You’re a doctor. You know that. You have to know that those—”

“Hey, hold on.” He leaned toward her, setting down his glass on the table. “I was only trying to offer you a compliment. To me, you look fit.”

Hell, she looked more than merely fit. She was enough to make a man break every promise he’d ever made.

“To me,” he continued, “most of the people coming to the clinic look to be in perfect health.” He shrugged. “Yes, we do have clients who are overweight. Some are even obese. But for the most part, I can easily see the clinic turning into another trendy place where people come to make their perfect bodies even more perfect.”

He was simply attempting to explain his thoughts on the matter, but it was clear he’d only irritated her further.

“It’s called keeping in shape. I’m surprised that you have so little compassion for those of us who really have to work at it.”

“I have plenty of compassion,” he assured her. He sighed, toying absently with one corner of the pristine white linen napkin neatly folded in front of him. “I have to admit that I never, in my wildest imaginings, expected to be managing things at a health clinic.”

“Ah, so your blasé attitude toward those with weight problems has less to do with the people who come to the clinic and more to do with you?”

He picked up his glass and took another swallow. “Calling me blasé is a little harsh. Let’s just say that, with all the intensive and extensive training I’ve had, I expected to be treating gunshot wounds and heart attacks, not checking triglycerides and prescribing jumping jacks.”

The annoyance that had tightened her jaw muscles waned and some unreadable emotion cast shadows in her sparkling blue eyes. Curiosity, maybe? He couldn’t be sure. But the waiter arrived with their salads and he spent a few moments filling their water goblets and grinding fresh black pepper for them.

Once the man had left them alone once again, Riley raised his wineglass and said, “To an evening filled with fun and laughter and good food.”

Her fingers slid around her own glass and she touched the rim of it to his. “And to new friends, too. May they become good ones.”

The sudden husky quality of her voice took him off guard. One moment she’d been piqued. The next she’d seemed inquisitive. And now? Well, now whatever it was that hummed in the air was steamy enough to wilt the romaine on their plates.

Her gaze seemed to darken even as he stared. “Of course,” he murmured. “To new friends.”

Without breaking eye contact, they drank deeply.

An hour and a half later, they were back in the car.

“Dinner was lovely,” Catherine said.

“I worked at the restaurant for a while as a kid. I bused tables, washed dishes, anything they needed me to do.” The owners had taken a gamble on him, and in doing so had given him a second chance. He’d spend the rest of his life feeling grateful. But he preferred that Catherine—and everyone else he’d ever meet—never know the details of that part of his life. In fact, he planned to do all he could to keep his secrets to himself.

Before she could inquire further, he said, “Do you like music? Are you up for listening to a little jazz?”

“Oh, I love jazz.”

Riley could feel excitement pulsing off her in waves.

“I’m having such a great time tonight, Riley. Thank you.”

Her effusive appreciation made his chest swell. He was reaping far too much pleasure from making this woman happy.

The parking lot of Midnight Blues was nearly packed. Riley pulled his sports car into one of the few remaining spots at the very rear of the lot.

When they entered the club, the sultry strains of a clarinet weaved with a saxophone’s smoky, soulful notes. A double bass was the glue that held the warm harmonics together.

Catherine tossed her evening bag down on an empty table and caught his hand in hers.

“Riley…”

The pleading in her tone and the scorching heat of her skin sliding softly against his hit him like a one, two sucker punch to the jaw.

“Can we dance?” She gave his fingers a tug, sending a message that she didn’t intend to take no for an answer. “Please?”

The boldness she flaunted appalled Catherine. She’d been trained to be modest and reserved. If she were back at home, she’d have squelched the brashness that continued to nudge her and fill her with confidence she didn’t normally have.

There was something about Riley. Something that liberated her. Something that made her feel not only limitless, but uninhibited, too. Her family would be shocked by her behavior, she was certain. But they were far away. Thank God!

Out on the dance floor, she twirled toward Riley, and his arms settled around her as if they’d been dancing partners a thousand times before. One of his strong hands clasped hers, and the other snuggled down low at the small of her back.

He smelled…

“Nice,” she murmured, closing her eyes to enjoy him.

Like sandalwood and citrus.

Catherine splayed her palm against his chest and was surprised by how firm his pecs were beneath his dress shirt. Her heart pattered like a butterfly’s wings. Flipping and fluttering.

“The music is nice,” he said, thinking he was agreeing with her statement.

She only smiled up into his handsome face for a second before closing her eyes again.

They swayed and turned and rocked. The smooth tune seemed to fuse the two of them into one being, and they moved as a solitary unit.

Instinct had her pressing her temple to his cheek. “You’re a good dancer,” she whispered.

“So are you.”

Each time he spoke, she felt the sexy vibration under the flat of her hand. Being pressed against him so tightly thrilled her more than anything else she’d ever experienced in her life.

Her insides were jittery and she decided the feeling was pure anticipation, the keen expectation of what the remainder of the night held in store. But she gently prodded the eagerness away. If she focused too much on what might happen later, she would miss the truly romantic moments taking place in the here and now.

Leaning back a fraction, she looked up into his face. Strong bone structure formed sharp angles she found more than just a little attractive. She zeroed in on his mouth.

She’d seen it formed into a firm slash that gave the impression he was displeased. And those lips all too often turned down into a frown. But at this moment, there was a softness there. A suppleness that had her wanting to explore.

How would his lips feel against hers?

Catherine’s pulse quickened when she thought about the end of their evening. Would he kiss her good-night? That was the American tradition, wasn’t it? For a man to kiss his date when he dropped her off at her door?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.