Prince of Midtown by Jennifer Lewis

721 SECRETS

Keeping you up to date on all that goes on at Manhattan’s most elite address!

Americans expect monarchs to be starched and stodgy—Caspia’s crown prince Sebastian Stone is anything but. The part-time resident of apartment 12B is a knockout with onyx eyes and a chiselled chest. And he likes to show off that great bod! Just ask the multitude of women he’s left in his wake. Or ask Tessa Banks, his lucky midtown assistant. Even in her tailored business suits, Tessa has been known to drool after her royal boss. But who could blame her? The sexy prince was sorely missed at the building’s recent landmark party. Rumour has it he has taken his lowly secretary to his homeland palace. They’ve been spotted tête-a-tête at numerous Caspian locations—and not over business. How did a middle-class manager like Tessa morph into Cinderella anyway? We’d love to know her secret! Meanwhile let’s hope Tessa can handle the smooth moves of the legendary lothario. The prince-we-pant-over is due back to 721 any day. Only then can we sort out super-sexy fact from ultra-sexy fiction…

Marriage, Manhattan Style by Barbara Dunlop

721 SECRETS

Keeping you up to date on all that goes on at Manhattan’s most elite address!

The hottest ticket in town—or at least at 721 Park Avenue—is the fifth anniversary party of Reed and Elizabeth Wellington. At Manhattan’s top hotel, it’s the place to see and be seen. And, apparently, there’s lots to see with the Wellingtons. Rumour has it that Elizabeth’s been trying hard to conceive—though one wonders how hard it could be when your husband is a blue-eyed babe like Reed. Maybe that’s why he whisked her away to the French Riviera for a whirlwind vacation. Doting Reed has also hired his wife a chauffeur. Though some suspect the burly driver’s really a bodyguard. For a hopeful mother-to-be? Either way, there have been so many comings and goings up in Penthouse A, so many whisperings, that you can’t help wondering what else Reed is up to. Here’s some advice: baby-making takes two, so get busy, Reed. Meanwhile, we’ll polish the silver spoon!

PRINCE OF MIDTOWN
BY
JENNIFER LEWIS

MARRIAGE, MANHATTAN STYLE
BY
BARBARA DUNLOP

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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PRINCE OF MIDTOWN

Jennifer Lewis has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic, and she worked in media and the arts before growing bold enough to put pen to paper. Jennifer is happily settled in Yew York with her family, and she would love to hear from readers at jen@jen-lewis.com.

To the editors at Desire who’ve encouraged me and supported my books, including Melissa Jeglinski, my first editor Demetria Lucas and my current editor Diana Ventimiglia. Big thanks to the people who read this book while I was writing it, including Amanda, Anne, Anne-Marie, Betty, Carol, Cynthia, Leeanne, Marie and Mel, and my agent Andrea. Once again I am indebted to Amanda and Carol for their business expertise.

Dear Reader,

I grew up surrounded by old hand-coloured editions of fairy tales that had belonged to my mother and her mother and probably her mother, too. When my editor asked me to write this story for the Park Avenue Scandals series, I jumped at the chance to create a prince from an exotic faraway country.

While some of the story takes place in the New York City area where I live with my own handsome prince, I had a great time inventing Prince Sebastian’s homeland of Caspia. I think everyone should have a chance to create a country. What would you like to see in yours? Mine has warm sunny weather (with no humidity!), calm blue seas, rugged terrain for hiking, striking classical architecture and delicious Mediterranean food.

By the time I’d finished writing I was sure the ancient and picturesque nation of Caspia could be found on a map somewhere between Italy and Greece. I was also ready to book a trip there as soon as possible.

I hope you enjoy your journey to Caspia with Sebastian and Tessa.

Jennifer Lewis

One

“You can’t leave.”

Sebastian Stone, Crown Prince of Caspia, spoke with such authority and conviction that for a moment Tessa Banks actually believed him.

Her boss’s hard, handsome features seemed taut with stronger emotion than usual. He shoved a hand through his black hair and rose from the wide antique desk in his Midtown Manhattan office.

Tessa’s stomach contracted with anxiety—and with the infuriating heat of arousal he always stirred in her.

Hang tough. This is your life.

She took a deep breath. “I’ve been your personal assistant for almost five years. I appreciate the freedom and responsibility you’ve entrusted me with, but it’s time for me to move on.”

“Move on?” He blew out an exasperated breath. “This is not a gypsy caravan. It’s a business. I’m counting on you to help me sort out this mess that’s been dumped in my lap.”

Tessa resisted the urge to point out that Caspia Designs might well have more in common with a gypsy caravan than an actual business. The conglomerate of luxury brands was colorful, extravagant and weighted with tradition. A crystal ball might reveal more lucid information than accounting ledgers that could only be described as “creative.”

It was obvious, however, that her boss was not in a joking mood.

He strode across the office and grabbed the pile of papers from his in-box. “Please schedule a meeting tomorrow morning with Reed Wellington. I wish to consult him about my plans for Caspia Designs.” He paused and flicked through the mail, a frown on his majestic brow. “And you must find me a new house sitter.”

What? Did he plan to simply ignore her resignation?

Tessa’s skin prickled with a combination of fury and desperation as she stood in speechless silence.

Her boss shook his head as he studied one paper. Accounts receivable, probably. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

She wished she wasn’t leaving at a time when Sebastian needed help pulling Caspia Designs together. He’d been handed the reins of the once-prestigious company by his father, the king, only to discover it was in a shambles.

But if this was how little concern he showed for her needs, she should be glad to leave him in the lurch.

Things must be serious, though. For one thing, he was wearing a suit. Usually his broad chest bore the insignia of whatever luxury brand he’d most recently convinced to open a boutique in his beloved Caspia. Fendi, Prada, Gucci—if there was a T-shirt with the logo on it, Sebastian cheerfully wore it to celebrate the new partnership.

Today fine gray wool draped his powerful physique. She should heave a sigh of relief that at least she didn’t have to tear her gaze from his impressive biceps.

Right now she was too damn angry to care.

She laid her company PDA on the desk. “I’m moving to California in two weeks. If you prefer, I can leave immediately.”

Sebastian muttered a curse, but still didn’t look up. He flipped over a page of the report she’d put together and traced a column of numbers with a sturdy finger.

Tessa blinked, struggling to keep her breathing under control.

After all this time she was another office fixture, like the Aeron chair, the platinum penholder or the rack of servers. A simple, functional object without a will of its own.

“Goodbye.” Her voice shook as she took a step toward the door. She had to climb over one of the cardboard crates of dusty papers that had consumed most of this last month, including three solid weekends. She’d given enough of her life in service to the Crown of Caspia.

“Where are you going?”

Sebastian’s voice rattled the antique floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the nineteenth-century brownstone with light.

“If you’d cared enough to listen, you’d know I’m leaving for California!” She’d never raised her voice to him before.

Sebastian put the file on the leather surface of the desk. “Tessa, you can’t be serious?”

“Why not?” She wished her voice didn’t sound so whiny and uncertain.

“Because I need you.”

Spoken in his deep voice, the words echoed through her.

She steadied herself with a hand on the door frame.

If only he did need her, not just a faceless assistant who took care of everything so efficiently that she rendered herself invisible.

But he didn’t. He had celebutantes and supermodels and starlets from Hollywood to Bollywood hurling themselves at him every minute of the day.

She should know. She fielded their calls.

“Tessa.” He stepped toward her, skillfully negotiating an open box of papers. “You do realize I’d be lost without you.”

His eyes fixed on hers with penetrating intensity. Large, dark and slightly almond shaped, those eyes had the power to make her do almost anything.

Her toes curled inside her shoes.

He’s just saying it to stop you from leaving him in the lurch.

Still…

She lifted her chin. “I’m turning thirty in a month.” She hesitated. Her personal life wasn’t his business.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Typical. Why would he care that she wanted a husband, children, a real life?

No need to mention that, she told herself. Better to leave with a shred of dignity. “It’s time for a change.”

“Tessa.” He crossed his arms and stared at her. “If you were dissatisfied with your position in any way, you should have come to me immediately. Is it your job title? Your salary? We’ll change them right now.”

“It’s neither of those things.”

She hesitated, anxious not to reveal that he was part of the reason she needed to leave.

Sebastian Stone, christened The Prince of Midtown by the New York tabloids who tracked his every bold move, was a constant reminder of everything she was missing.

Especially since he barely knew she was alive.

“I feel as if I’m stuck in a rut. My life is slipping through my fingers…” Could she come up with anything that wasn’t a soggy cliché?

“And California is the golden land of opportunity?”

“I know it isn’t, but I need to shake things up.” She shrank from his forceful black gaze and paced across the room. Her heart hammered beneath her designer dress.

“What’s the job you’ve been offered?”

She shoved her hair behind her ear. “I don’t have a job lined up yet. I’m sure I can find one when I get there.”

“Then why California? You’re not running off after some man, are you?”

Tessa froze. Her stomach lurched. “There is someone, yes.”

Sebastian hesitated. An unfamiliar sensation crept over him. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“Well.” Tessa blinked. “You’re my boss.”

“But we’re friends, too, are we not? You could have told me you were being swept off your feet and were preparing to run away and desert me.”

“You’ve been in Caspia for the last three months. I haven’t seen you.”

True.

“And it’s not as if he’s asked me to marry him or anything, so there wasn’t that much to tell.” She shoved a hand into her hair. Long, golden hair. Rumpled, as if she’d been running her fingers through it all day.

Unexpected desire mingled with the irritation in his blood. “So he’s asked you to move clear across the country for him, but he’s not even proposed to you?”

Her high-boned cheeks colored. “No. It’s not like that.”

“Who is this man?”

Tessa blew out a breath. “His name’s Patrick Ramsay. He’s a lawyer.” She picked up a paperweight off the desk and held it poised in her elegant fingers. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months. He’s joining a practice in L.A. and, two days ago, he asked me if I’d like to move there with him.”

“And you said yes?” Disbelief and indignation made him splutter.

She spun on her long, slender legs and strode across the room. “I told him I had to think about it. Now I’ve thought about it.” She kept her face turned away from him. “And I’ve decided it’s just the change I need.”

“You’re wrong.” He’d never been so sure of anything.

She turned to face him, her green eyes wide. “I feel bad leaving, especially now that you’ve taken over Caspia Designs. I know there’s a lot of work to do. But what if this is my one chance?”

Her voice rose to a high note that tugged at something in his chest. How could such a beautiful and talented woman be willing to throw her whole life away on a gamble?

“The name Patrick Ramsay rings a bell.” An alarm bell.

“He’s quite well known. He represented Elaina Ivanovic in her divorce from her husband Igor.”

Sebastian’s hackles shot up. “The divorce lawyer?” He’d seen that smarmy hustler on TV. Patrick Ramsay didn’t know the meaning of the term low blow.

She nodded, jerked her imploring gaze from him and started across the far end of the room. “He’s very nice, really. Busy, as you’d expect, but kind and thoughtful and—Oh!”

She tripped on an open box and sprawled forward. Adrenaline surged through Sebastian and he leaped across the room. “Are you hurt?”

“No! I’m fine. How silly of me.” She blushed charmingly as he helped her up, her hand hot inside his.

On her feet, she pushed her hair back. “It’s my fault for leaving these boxes everywhere. I’ll stack them against the wall before I go.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” He still held her hand. He didn’t want to let go of it. To let go of Tessa.

She was the best assistant he’d ever had. Since he now spent most of his time in Europe, he needed someone he could count on to show up for work even with no one else there. Tessa had proven herself a sharp-minded self-starter and—until now—as steadfast as the rocks in the ancient harbor at Caspia.

He trusted her with everything, from his personal affairs to the embarrassing state of Caspia Designs’s financials.

She tried to pull her hand back. He held it fast.

“Tessa, you are indispensable to me. What can I say that will make you stay?”

Her gaze skittered over his face and he sensed the swell of her emotion. Her muscles tensed, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t form the words.

Why had he never noticed how mobile and expressive her mouth was? Or that her skin had an iridescent sheen, like a haze of gold dust?

In that moment of contemplation she jerked back and tugged her hand from his grasp. Cool air assaulted his palm.

She turned and strode away, her slim body held stiff. “I don’t want anything.”

“I do.”

The words fell from his lips before he’d formulated the thoughts to go along with them.

It pained him to see her pacing the floor like a nervous colt, ready to gallop off to disaster.

She belonged here, with him.

His own conviction surprised him. Was some primal masculine jealousy aroused by the thought of her with another man?

Possibly.

She bent over a box filled with hanging files. Her back strained under the weight as she tried to lift it.

“Put that down.” He marched over, hefted the box off the floor and shoved it against the wall. The exertion felt good. Then he heaved another into position next to it. He glanced at Tessa. “I don’t want you injuring yourself.”

A brow shot up and her green eyes flashed. “I may be skinny, but I’m strong.”

She picked up a box, dumped it next to his, then dusted her hands and placed them on her hips. Which had the unfortunate effect of drawing his attention to the hourglass waist hidden inside her simple gray dress.

Desire heated his blood.

“You know you’re only making it more impossible for me to let you go.” He smiled.

She flashed back a defiant grin. Then it faded. “I can’t stay.”

Her pulse fluttered at her neck and he resisted a sudden, fierce urge to press his lips to the quivering, warm skin.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “You can’t let me? Off with her head? Those days are over, even if you are a prince.”

He laughed. “A beheading does sound counterproductive. But I do insist you give the ancient, sovereign nation of Caspia at least the customary two weeks’ notice.” A plan blossomed in his mind. “You must come to Caspia with me. Immediately.”

“Oh.”

A tiny fire lit inside her eyes. Good.

“I need you to arrange an immediate meeting of the principals of Caspia Designs. The chief executives of each of the subsidiary brands must be there, no matter what it takes to bring them.”

He watched for her reaction. The prospect of cajoling pleasure-seeking European plutocrats into attending to actual business might make some people quit on the spot.

But not Tessa. A glow of appreciation filled him as she simply nodded.

“To be honest, when I took the job, I hoped it would involve some travel. I’d be glad to come to Caspia before I go.”

Had he truly never taken her to Caspia before? Surely he’d remember the vision of all that golden hair being tossed by the sea breeze. He’d grown to think of travel as a tiresome necessity. He clapped his hands together. “We’ll fly tomorrow in my private plane. Arrange for a 2:00 p.m. departure.”

Energy surged through him as his plan took shape. This trip would take Tessa’s mind off that divorce-mongering cad who wanted to steal her away from him.

Not that his interest in her was personal, of course. He took both business and pleasure very seriously, which meant keeping them strictly separate.

But the charms of Caspia—combined with some judicious charm on his part—would soon make Tessa realize she’d been crazy to ever think of leaving.

Two

Relief surged through Sebastian as he grasped his old friend’s hand in a warm handshake. Reed Wellington was the kind of man you wanted on your side in a crisis. His clear blue eyes never reflected a hint of worry.

“Sebastian, I’m sorry I couldn’t make the snowboarding trip to Kilimanjaro, but Elizabeth thought it sounded, well, crazy.”

Sebastian laughed. “I guess that’s the problem with being married. You wind up stuck with someone who truly cares about you.”

“Yes. And you have to stop hurling yourself off mountaintops.” His eyes crinkled into a smile. “When are you going to get married, eh?”

“Never. Or when I meet the right woman. Whichever comes first.” He got this question a lot.

“No one can accuse you of not trying your best to bed every eligible woman in the world.”

“Just doing my royal duty.”

“Seriously, isn’t there a lot of pressure on you to sire the next heir to the throne of Caspia?”

“I try not to think about that. Besides, we Caspians often live to be over a hundred and my father’s barely sixty.”

“All that goats’ milk yogurt, huh?”

“Food of the gods.”

They shared a chuckle but Sebastian couldn’t help thinking Reed’s laugh was a little too hearty. Forced, even. And what was it with married people trying to shove eternal bondage down your throat?

“You’re here about Caspia Designs?” Reed gestured for him to sit in the leather chair opposite the wide walnut desk. The room was decorated like the headquarters of an eighteenth-century shipping magnate.

Sebastian eased himself into the chair. “I am. I’m in dire need of your business expertise. I’m afraid the company is in worse financial shape than I’d suspected.”

Reed’s expression changed to one of concern. “How so?”

“Until I took over the reins a year ago, Caspia Designs was overseen by Deon Maridis, an old and close friend of my father’s. He’s a good man, but the company’s profits went into a slow slide under his watch.”

Sebastian fought an urge to loosen his collar. “Last year the company actually lost money.”

“What?” Reed sat up. “I confess luxury brands are not my area of expertise, and I can imagine the company is mature and not growing much, but Caspia Designs owns some of the most renowned luxury brands in the world. Aria cars, Bugaretti Jewels, LeVerge Champagne, Carriage Leathers…Why, I bought my wife one of their bags last Christmas and it nearly bankrupted me.” He laughed for a second, then frowned. “How can they be losing money?”

Sebastian leaned forward. “Our brands have been known as the best of the best since the 1920s when the company went public, but many of them have barely changed since. Production methods are outdated and inefficient, and there’s been little effort to attract new customers. There are now a host of luxury jewelers, vintners and the like, and most of them have better distribution and marketing than the ones owned by Caspia Designs. I want to shake up the companies and get them operating like a real business. I also plan to market the goods to a younger audience.”

“Sounds as if you need to do some rebranding. Like Burberry and Mini Cooper.”

“Exactly.”

Reed tilted his head and smiled. “Sort of like you’ve been doing with Caspia.”

Sebastian couldn’t help a swell of pride. “It’s true. Ten years ago, Caspia had virtually no foreign investors, no tourism, little business beyond those that had existed for hundreds of years.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “Now you have hotels and luxury boutiques and restaurants for tourists to spend their money in. And you accomplished it almost singlehandedly over the last ten years.”

“My assistant, Tessa, must get some of the credit.” Her green eyes flashed in his mind. “She’s an organizational genius.”

“You’re lucky to have her.”

“Don’t I know it.” Sebastian’s fist clenched. How could she plan to abandon him at a time like this? “And we’ll be working hard to make Caspia Designs a good investment for all our shareholders.”

“I don’t doubt you’ll succeed.”

“I intend to, but I’m used to building from scratch, not fixing something that’s broken. I need your advice on how to turn the individual companies around, and fast.”

“Hmm.” Reed tapped his gold pen on his blotter. “If I were you, I’d start by scheduling a meeting with the President and CEO—or their equivalents—of each company within Caspia Designs. Get them all together and read them the riot act.”

“I’ve already asked Tessa to schedule a meeting.”

“Excellent. At that meeting, challenge them to come up with ten ways to immediately increase market share and profitability in their own company.” He gave Sebastian a series of examples of companies who’d effected a similar change by bringing in experienced managers or reinventing their product for modern markets. “You could hire a consulting firm to investigate and give you additional ideas.”

“I prefer to solve our problems internally. These are all businesses with quality products. They’ve been resting on their laurels, and it’s time to shake them up.”

“I can see them shaking already. You can do anything you set your mind to. Even snowboarding down Kilimanjaro.” He leaned back with a wistful smile.

Sebastian’s chest filled with regret that his friend had missed the experience. “You should have been there.”

Reed looked away, picked up a pen and tapped it on his blotter. “Yes. Well. I have other commitments now.” A muscle twitched at his temple. His blue gaze seemed less bright than usual.

“How is Elizabeth? I haven’t seen her in a long time. Is she still your secret weapon on the doubles court, as well as the love of your life?”

Reed’s eyes crinkled. “She sure is. We’ll have to get together for a game sometime with you and whoever your current mixed-doubles partner is.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m playing singles at the moment. Got business to take care of.”

“Even if we don’t see you on the courts, you must come to our anniversary party.”

“What is it, three years?”

“Five.” Reed’s jaw stiffened.

Not the most reassuring indication of marital bliss.

“That’s great.” He leaned over the desk and slapped Reed on the arm. Tried to sound enthusiastic. “Just let me know where to show up. And you know the two of you have an open invitation to visit Caspia again whenever you like.”

“I’ll take you up on that soon. Right now I’m in the throes of starting a new company. It’s sucking up even more of my free time than all that partying we used to do when we were younger.”

“Who says I’ve stopped?” Sebastian raised a brow.

“You always did have impressive stamina. One day you’ll meet a woman you actually want to stay home with.”

“So they tell me, but I don’t plan to wave the white flag of surrender anytime soon.”

The doorman pulled open the door and Sebastian stepped into the lobby of his building. Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s two fluffy white dogs stopped scratching at the priceless Oriental rug and turned to growl at him.

If that woman led him around on a string all day, he wouldn’t be in a good mood, either. Sebastian shot the dogs a sympathetic glance.

“Prince Sebastian!” Vivian turned to him with a winning smile. Or had too much plastic surgery left her expression permanently fixed like that?

“Hello, Vivian.”

“How lovely to see you here. I noticed you haven’t been around much lately.”

“I’ve been in Caspia.”

“Ahh.” Her dogs lunged at his pant leg, yowling and snapping at the end of their embroidered leashes. “I read about those nasty storms in the Mediterranean. I do hope Caspia didn’t suffer too much damage.”

“There were some losses to the olive crops, but happily no one was hurt.”

“What a relief. Backward countries do seem to suffer the most from these things.”

Sebastian’s hackles shot up. “Caspia is in no way backward. If you were to visit…” Perish the thought. “You’d find a thriving, modern country on the brink of becoming one of the prime luxury tourist destinations in the world.”

“How charmingly passionate you are about your homeland.”

Sebastian glanced up to see if the elevator was coming. Yes, thank God.

The doors opened and Vivian’s paisley skirt swirled about her ankles as she walked in. Her dogs yapped around Sebastian’s ankles, loud in the enclosed space.

“Hold the elevator!” A deep voice rang across the marbled lobby.

Sebastian looked up to see Gage Lattimer diving past the doorman.

Vivian’s dogs diverted their hostile intentions to him. Fortunately for Sebastian, Vivian followed suit.

“Why, Gage, our man of mystery. I was just chatting with Prince Sebastian.” She shone that fixed smile on him. “He should be a role model to you. He does live up to his clean-cut image.”

Clean-cut? Sebastian resisted the urge to test his chin for stubble. He’d been called a lot of things, but clean-cut wasn’t one of them. Maybe she meant the suit?

He shot a puzzled look at Gage.

“Are you implying something?” Gage raised an eyebrow at Vivian.

“Moi?” She forced a laugh. “Of course not. I believe people’s personal affairs should be kept private.”

Gage shook his head.

An awkward silence thickened in the air. Well, not exactly silence, what with all the growling.

Sebastian’s muscles unwound a bit when the elevator reached his floor. He held the door open for Vivian to exit, her leashed demons scampering ahead of her.

Unfortunately they lived on the same floor.

Happily the walls were thick.

Her dogs wiggled with excitement as she fumbled in her purse for her key. They actually looked sort of adorable for once and he couldn’t resist crouching to pet one of the fluffy fur balls.

It turned and snapped at him, almost catching his finger.

Never mind.

Sebastian’s apartment had a neglected air. His former house sitter, Carrie Gray, hadn’t left his employ to marry that long ago, but already stacks of unopened mail tilted precariously on the hall table. He picked an envelope off the top and ripped it open.

“You are cordially invited to celebrate the landmark status of our building.”

He snorted.

Yes, 721 Park Avenue was a beautiful building, but it probably wasn’t much over a hundred years old. Parts of the royal palace in Caspia were rumored to be five thousand years old.

That was a landmark.

He flung the envelope back on the pile and lifted his foot to step over the bag he’d dropped in the foyer the night before. He’d gone straight from the plane to the office to an all-night party and hadn’t had time to unpack. It was inconvenient having no one to do it for him.

But the bag wasn’t there.

Did he hear voices?

He did. Female voices.

Interesting. Especially since he hadn’t brought anyone home last night.

Anticipation pricked through him as he walked down the marble-floored hallway toward the living room.

A familiar mane of blond hair cascaded over the back of an uncomfortable eighteenth-century chair. “Tessa.”

She jumped. “Oh, Your Highness, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Your Highness?” He lifted a brow.

“I’m interviewing candidates for your new house sitter.” She indicated a red-haired girl seated opposite her.

He smiled at them both. He always could count on Tessa to handle everything.

Tessa excused herself for a moment and hurried after Sebastian. “I unpacked your bag. I’m not sure if I did it right. Let me show you where I put things.”

She rambled on, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his private space. His house sitter used to handle the apartment, so she rarely came here. She was embarrassed that she still hadn’t had time to tackle his mail. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I just thought it would be a good idea to interview the house sitters here so they’d have an idea of what the job entails. The antiques and all. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they treat your home.”

“Good thinking.”

She rushed along the hallway. Why was she so anxious? Perhaps because she was also secretly interviewing for her own replacement.

“The agency had three girls ready this morning, and I didn’t want to wait, or to interrupt you at Reed’s. How did the meeting go?”

“Great. I wanted to get his advice on how to bring Caspia Designs into the twenty-first century.” He glanced at her. “Or even the twentieth.”

His mischievous grin made her heart beat faster.

“You’ll turn the company around fast.”

“With your help.” He shot her a dark look. “Starting with this trip to Caspia.”

She swallowed. Even poring over the inadequate and whimsical financial reports of Caspia Designs had made her fall a little bit in love with the country. It seemed a land ruled by passion rather than politics. Exuberance rather than economics.

Much like its devastatingly handsome prince.

Tessa bit her lip. Already she’d reconsidered her plan to leave. Sebastian paid her well and treated her kindly. Her parents told her she was mad to quit a job with such excellent benefits.

But she’d spent most of her adult life working with the rich and famous, first at a PR firm and now here. She was sick of glitz and glamour. She’d trade it in a heartbeat for the simple happiness her parents still shared after nearly fifty years of marriage.

For some reason being tall and blond attracted the biggest jerk in every room she entered. She’d had enough of being arm-candy for movers and shakers who weren’t interested in anything beyond a night of sex.

Normal “regular guy” types never asked her out. Patrick was the best thing to happen to her in a long time. Yes, he was a high-profile lawyer, but he was down-to-earth and practical. He called when he said he would. He took her out on dates—when he had the time—and treated her with respect.

Something she’d begun to worry would never happen.

In his large, uncluttered bedroom, Sebastian removed his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. Tessa dragged her eyes away. “I hung your pants and shirts in the closet. And I put your…underwear in the drawer.”

Her cheeks heated. Handling his boxers had felt way too personal.

“You didn’t have to do that.” His fingers continued down his buttons. He tugged his shirt out of his pants to undo the bottom ones and she fought an urge to run for the door.

But she didn’t want him to know that watching him undress affected her. He was probably used to undressing in front of…staff. It meant nothing to him.

She meant nothing to him.

For years she’d been telling herself her silly attraction to her boss would fade over time. She’d fall for someone else.

But other men seemed pale and uninteresting compared to Sebastian.

Except Patrick, of course. He was thoughtful. Nice. Considerate.

He wasn’t quite ready for fatherhood yet, but maybe once his big case was over and they settled into a comfortable house in a nice quiet neighborhood with trees and grass and…

Uh-oh. Sebastian’s long fingers undid the button on his pants.

She headed for the door. “I put your toiletries in the bathroom. Well, your toothbrush. I didn’t see anything else.”

“I don’t need anything else.”

“I’ll get back to my interview.” Her voice was high and squeaky. She heard the swish of his pants sliding over his long, muscled legs.

“Did Dior Homme send the T-shirts?”

“Um. Yes. I put them…” She’d have to go back into the bedroom to find the shelf. Squinting to avoid the vision of a seminaked Sebastian, she hurried to the closet.

“Here, on the middle shelf.” The fresh pile of shirts commemorated the deal he’d brokered to open a Dior boutique in the row of luxury stores along the harbor in Caspia. She picked up a large black T-shirt with a geometric design and held it toward him while keeping her eyes averted.

She could smell his scent. Soap and skin. A hint of sweat.

How could that get her blood pumping? He was just a guy, for crying out loud. Patrick smelled much nicer, of that woodsy cologne he wore. Which, actually, she hated. But she could buy him another.

“Tessa.”

She turned without thinking. At the exact moment he lifted the T-shirt over his head and flexed all the muscles of his wide, bronzed chest.

Her knees buckled and she struggled to stay upright.

Not a problem. She didn’t like big muscles anyway.

Too brutish.

She preferred men who were…cerebral.

“What do you think?” He indicated the T-shirt freshly pulled over his thick pecs.

“Nice design.” Her voice came out weird and flat. A light dusting of black hair roughened his hard, bare thighs below the T-shirt hem.

“Yeah. I like this new line. Did you take some for yourself?”

“I don’t wear extra large.”

“You could wear them in bed.” His low voice tickled her ears.

Tessa’s eyes widened. Her face heated. Sebastian was thinking about her in bed?

Oh. Get over yourself.

If anyone knew that women like to sleep in oversize T-shirts, it was Sebastian. He’d seen a lot of women in bed.

“Sure. I’ll grab a couple.”

“Great.” He shot her a white-toothed smile.

That set her on alert. Why was he smiling at her for no reason?

Because he wants to keep you around as his serf, organizing his files and answering his phone, dummy.

“I’ll go finish the interview.”

“I appreciate it. I’m going out to grab something to eat.

You want anything from the café?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

Again, the niceness. Very suspicious.

Sebastian strode across the room, legs still bare. He slid a hand under his T-shirt to scratch his rock-hard belly while he contemplated his impressive collection of jeans.

Tessa managed to rasp, “See you later,” as she rushed out the door.

The Park Café was the closest eatery, so Sebastian went there often when he was in town. He’d spent several weeks in New York in the spring and had hand-trained one of the young servers to make the perfect cup of coffee—or at least the closest possible approximation available in this part of the world.

His heart sank as he entered the bright space of the café to a sea of new faces. Then he spotted Reed and Elizabeth Wellington sitting at one of the café tables. He waved and tried to catch their eye, but they were deep in conversation.

“What can I get you?” asked the perky young server.

“I’d like a pastrami on rye with Russian dressing and nothing else. And a seven-shot espresso.”

She vanished, her expressionless face imparting confidence.

What a relief not to be peppered with questions about lettuce and tomatoes and mayo.

His synapses tingled in anticipation of a welcome jolt of caffeine.

He glanced over at his friends’ table. Reed leaned forward, talking in hushed tones, while his wife looked strangely tight-lipped. Were they arguing?

The server returned with seven tiny china cups of espresso. Here we go again. “In one cup, please.”

She picked up a paper cup and began to pour them in.

“They’ll be too cool. Could you use china and heat it again?” He kept his voice pleasant.

“Milk and sugar?”

“No milk, no sugar, no cinnamon, no froth, no chocolate curls. Just the coffee.”

His sandwich appeared, loaded with unwanted vegetables.

Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face.

He’d be home in Caspia soon.

“I don’t think you do!” A raised voice caught his attention and he turned to see Reed, who’d stood suddenly, scraping his chair back on the tile floor.

Elizabeth looked panic-stricken. “Please, Reed…” he heard her say, before the server plunked his big mug of espresso on the counter.

He swiped his credit card and turned in time to see Reed striding out of the restaurant, a black expression clouding his chiseled features.

Alarmed, Sebastian glanced at Elizabeth, who stared after her husband with a stunned look on her face.

Sebastian snatched his cup and plate off the counter and hurried to the table. He sat without waiting for an invitation.

His gut twisted when he saw her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”

He reached for her hand but she snatched it up and dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “Nothing! Nothing at all. I’m fine.” A sob belied her words. “Allergies. They’re terrible at this time of year.” She drew in a sharp breath. “How are you, Sebastian?”

“Once I’ve had this coffee, I’ll be okay.” He took a bracing sip. Elizabeth was obviously in distress and it pained him not to be able to help her. “Can I get you something? Some chocolate?”

She laughed. “Chocolate usually does help, doesn’t it?” She glanced toward the door. “But not today. I have to run, I have an appointment.” Hands shaking, she gathered her handbag and a large shopping bag. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time to chat. I’ve—” Her voice caught.

Something was very wrong.

“I understand. Another time.” The platitudes felt hollow and useless, but she clearly didn’t want to talk.

He rose from his chair and kissed her cheek. Cold as ice. “And, Elizabeth, if you ever need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me.”

She nodded and hurried away.

How odd. She and Reed always seemed like the perfect couple. Their wedding had been the social event of the season, the bride radiant, her handsome groom the toast of the city for months. Sebastian had even found himself contemplating the joys of marriage—for a week or two.

Luckily it had worn off.

Five years later and here they were: arguments, tension, tears.

Marriage did not look like fun.

Three

Sebastian brimmed with anticipation as he marched across the tarmac toward the plane. “Tessa!”

At the sound of his voice, she looked up and smiled. “Hello, Sebastian.”

She stood at the bottom of the movable stairs, fiddling with the strap on her bag. The wind molded her thin dress to her body in a way that made his blood pressure jump a notch.

Her legs were endless. Slender and shapely. The kind of legs that could wrap around you and hold you in a vise of pleasure.

Not that he had any intention of seducing his assistant into bed.

Even he had his limits.

At least he thought he did.

“Don’t be nervous. Our pilot is very experienced. Have you met Sven?”

“Yes, he introduced himself. I’m more excited than nervous. I actually love to fly. It’s fun seeing the world from above.”

“I do agree.” A smile settled over his face as he took her elbow and led her up the stairs.

Sebastian refused to discuss work during the flight. He wanted Tessa to relax and enjoy herself. To banish any thoughts that she was bored and ready to “move on.”

Any “moving on” would be accomplished in his comfortably appointed jet. “Champagne?” He lifted a bottle out of the fridge.

Tessa’s eyes widened. “It’s only two o’clock.”

“That means it’s eight in Caspia. They always say to pack and dress for your destination, so why not drink for it, too?”

He popped the cork.

Tessa bit her lip. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

“Exactly. You’d better do as I say.” He handed her the glass. “Here’s to your maiden voyage to Caspia.” He clinked his glass against hers.

Excitement sparkled in her big, green eyes. “I’ve never left the country before.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. I flew around a bit on business for my first job, but mostly to L.A. I’ve never been to Europe.”

“Not even to visit friends?” Sebastian found this hard to believe. He knew quite a few people who went to boarding school with Tessa and they were as likely to be found on the ski slopes of Gstaad or the beaches of Provence as in their Wall Street watering holes.

Tessa put her champagne glass on the table. “I went to St. Peter’s on a scholarship.” She raised her eyes to meet his at the mention of the highbrow prep school. “I’m not really one of them.”

“One of who?”

“You know, the jet set, or whatever you want to call it.”

She looked so anxious that he managed to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. “Um, Tessa, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you’re sitting in a jet right now, waiting to take off.”

She swatted his idea away with a movement of her graceful hands. “You know what I mean. This is part of my job.”

Sebastian slammed his glass down next to hers. “I don’t want to hear anything more about any job. You are vital to the economic growth of the nation of Caspia. You have a career with us.”

He’d make it a personal challenge to make sure she stayed. He did enjoy a challenge. The curse of a competitive nature.

“Buckle up.” Sven’s voice came over the radio. Sebastian watched as Tessa fastened her buckle over her slim hips. Her long fingers were magnificent. He could imagine them dancing over the strings of a Caspian harp.

Or over the muscles of his belly. And lower. Between his thighs…

He shifted in his seat. “Sven, let’s take the temperature down a couple of degrees.”

Tessa looked sideways at him. “Do we have to hold on to our glasses?”

“Can’t hurt.” Sebastian swept hers up and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed for an electric moment. He sipped the dry Blanc de Noirs, but the sparkle of the bubbles only increased an intriguing sense of anticipation that crackled through him.

Tessa peered out the window as the plane lifted over the ocean, her long neck craned forward. “Goodness, New York really is a bunch of islands, isn’t it? Wow, what a beach. The breakers look awesome from up here. And I can see a fishing boat! I never think of people fishing near the city. And look at all those swimming pools on Long Island. Don’t these people know there’s an ocean right there?”

Her eyes shone, dazzled with sights he’d long ceased to notice.

Sebastian laughed.

Caspia with Tessa was going to be fun.

Tessa couldn’t help feeling a little sad as their plane approached their final destination in the dead of night.

All across Europe, towns and cities had glittered amongst vast swathes of dark countryside. Snowcapped mountain ranges shimmered in the faint glow of the moon.

That same moon reflected off calm ocean water as the plane banked on approach to the airport in Caspia. Giddy from champagne and from chatting with Sebastian about everything under the sun, she couldn’t imagine getting any sleep before morning.

The plane landed on the runway with barely a bump. Sebastian peered out the window. “My driver is waiting. We’ll be at the palace in ten minutes.”

The palace.

Tessa’s skin grew tight as terror crept over her.

An actual palace with a real king and queen living in it.

She glanced sideways at Sebastian. He was stretching, which had the unfortunate effect of pulling his black T-shirt tight over the granite-hard expanse of his chest.

She jerked her eyes away. In addition to being a royal prince, he was her boss, for crying out loud.

Her heart hammered as the pilot opened the door and ushered them down the steps. Sebastian gestured for her to go first, so she stepped out into the dark night.

A cool breeze rushed her face, rich with the smell of the sea.

“Home sweet home.” Sebastian drew in a hearty lungful. “I find it harder and harder to leave and each time I return, I’m more grateful than ever.”

“I guess that’s good, since you couldn’t really leave anyway, could you?” How odd to grow up with the obligation of being a monarch some day. To have no choice in who or what you could become.

“No one truly leaves Caspia. Even when you depart, you’ll always carry a piece of her with you.”

His voice echoed with such gravitas that she glanced back to see if he was joking.

Apparently not.

He stared straight ahead, his strong features highlighted in the airport floodlights. “Dmitri!” He waved at the uniformed chauffeur standing in front of a long, black limousine. “I’d like you to meet Tessa, my righthand woman.”

Dmitri nodded. Sebastian’s odd introduction gave her a little surge of pride. She wouldn’t mind being the right hand on so sturdy and capable a body.

The limo drove them swiftly to the palace, where people materialized out of the darkness to carry their bags.

A lamp-lit passage led to a cool atrium with a trickling fountain. Two young men rushed forward to ply them with damp towels and glasses of cool water.

Flustered, Tessa watched Sebastian as he wiped his face vigorously with the towel. She didn’t want to smear the plush, white cotton with her makeup so she used it to pat her neck.

The water had a deliciously sweet taste, and she finished the whole glass in one draft. As soon as she was done, a man with a jug refilled it.

“Thanks,” she murmured, before sipping again.

So this is what it was like to be waited on hand and foot. Kind of weird, but she could see how you’d get used to it. She tried hard not to giggle.

Just nerves.

“I’ll walk Tessa to her room,” Sebastian declared. Her skin tingled as he slipped his warm, strong arm inside hers in a proprietary gesture that made her blush.

It was all so strange. Mosaics glittered under her feet. Stone pillars flanked the wide hallway. They walked through the silent palace, the darkness of night softened only by light from wall sconces.

At the end of another long hallway, Sebastian led her through an open pair of double doors into the most glorious room she’d ever seen.

A vast bed filled the center of the huge chamber. Silk curtains billowed from a central point in the ceiling and cascaded down to form a luxurious canopy. The bed itself was lush with patterned pillows and soft-looking covers.

If there were a pea under that mattress, it wouldn’t bother her one bit.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable. You can ring this bell if you need anything.” He pointed to a tiny golden bell, resting on a magnificent gold-inlaid dressing table. “Or call me on my cell.” He yawned. “I need some shut-eye.”

He closed the door behind him as he left.

In a panic, Tessa realized she didn’t have her bag. She rushed to the door, then the open closet caught her eye.

Her clothes hung inside it.

She inhaled, and walked over. Yes, they were really her clothes, with her unpacked duffel bag placed neatly on the floor of the closet.

She swallowed and lifted her nightgown from a hanger. She’d splurged on a gauzy white cotton gown, trimmed with lace, that seemed appropriate for sleeping in a palace.

In front of the magnificent silk-draped bed, however, her nightgown looked more suitable for a milkmaid.

She changed, washed her face at the polished brass basin in the bathroom and brushed out her hair.

She stood for a moment at one of the long windows, holding the heavy drape back. Pale moonlight poured onto the floor at her feet, making the mosaic sparkle.

She climbed onto the cloudlike softness of the high bed, under the layered canopy.

She really should call Patrick in New York. She’d promised to let him know she arrived safely. He’d insisted on knowing every detail of her itinerary so he could get in touch with her at any time.

He was just like that. Caring.

But surely he wouldn’t mind if she called first thing in the morning?

It was nearly nine when Tessa finally awoke and peered at her watch in the curtained gloom. She could hear noise outside the windows, the distant honking of car horns, the mutter of conversations, even a clatter of hooves.

She sprang off the bed and hurried to the window. Bright golden sunshine streamed in as she parted the curtains.

Wow.

The room had a magnificent view over the city. Whitewashed buildings clung to the hillsides, their simple, organic shapes suggesting that they’d been there almost as long as the land itself.

The procession of crisp, white walls descended gradually toward a wide bay. Long seawalls created from massive stone blocks encompassed the harbor like two welcoming arms, the sea within them as calm as a pond.

The whole effect was like something out of an ancient myth. She half expected to see Helen of Troy sail into the harbor on a trireme rowed by a hundred oarsmen.

But modern life intruded cheerfully on the ancient splendor. Cars wound up and down the hill toward the harbor. Laughter and the strains of a Madonna hit mingled with the song of birds that fluttered back and forth between tall cypress trees.

Her cell chimed and vibrated on the dresser. She rushed to grab it. Patrick.

“Hi.”

“I’ve been worried sick. I even checked the airline flight data to see if there were reports of an accident. Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, we got here so late and I was tired. It’s sweet of you to worry, but really, I’m fine.”

“Do you have your own room?”

She laughed. “No, I’m in the harem with all the king’s wives.” He didn’t laugh back. “Of course I have my own room, silly. And it’s so beautiful. But I’m not sure my blow-dryer will work here.”

“Do be careful of the voltage. You never know what to expect with foreign wiring. I am worried about you being all alone in a foreign country.”

“I’m not alone. I’m with Sebastian.” “I know.”

When she finally got Patrick off the phone with assurances that she had not been killed in a midair collision or sold into slavery, she had a quick shower. As she suspected, her dryer was a useless lump of plastic and metal since the wall outlet was a different shape than her plug. She towel dried her hair as best she could and was putting moisturizer on her face when she heard a knock on the door.

She almost dropped the bottle. “Come in?” The uncertainty in her own voice made her even more nervous.

The door flung open. Sebastian stood silhouetted against the bright corridor. “I trust you slept well.” His soft voice wrapped around her like the warm morning breeze.

“I did.” She pushed back a hank of her still-damp hair. “I can’t get over how lovely it is here.”

He smiled. “You’ve seen nothing yet. Come, eat.” He held out his arm for her to take it. He wore a collarless white linen shirt. Tailored black pants added to the impression of casual elegance.

Not that she cared what her boss wore.

Tessa walked across the room, the skirt of her pale green dress swishing around her legs, then matched his long stride down the colonnaded hallway.

He directed her into another wide, bright chamber. Floor-to-ceiling frescoes depicted a magnificent procession of men and horses, pennants flying.

Tessa tugged her gaze from the art and focused on the other people in the room. A middle-aged man and woman sat at one end of a long, white stone table.

“Mama, this is Tessa, my New York assistant.”

The woman rose from her carved chair, tall and graceful, her silver hair pulled back into a chignon. She held out a heavily ringed hand and Tessa hurried forward to shake it.

“It’s an honor,” murmured Tessa, attempting a curtsey.

This was The Queen.

“And this is my dad.”

Tessa shook his offered hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

Maybe he heard her voice shake, but the king patted her hand gently and looked at her with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. “The pleasure is all mine, my dear.”

He also had silver hair, with patches of black above his ears that indicated it must once have been as dark as Sebastian’s.

“What’d the cook rustle up for us this morning?” Sebastian reached forward and grabbed a rasher of bacon, then popped it in his mouth. “Mmm.” He pulled out a chair for Tessa, directly opposite the queen. She slid into it as gracefully as she could.

A plate materialized in front of her immediately, borne by a silent servant.

“Do help yourself, dear,” the queen said in perfect, British-accented English. “If you don’t see anything you like, we can have something prepared.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, it all looks marvelous.”

Tessa had no appetite whatsoever in the presence of three crowned heads—including Sebastian. She’d never paid much attention to his being a prince before, perhaps because the whole concept of royalty seemed rather alien back in the States. Amidst the splendor of the royal palace, however, it was impossible to forget.

Sebastian offered her various dishes, and she took a small amount of each. Eggs scrambled with herbs, freshly baked rolls covered in fragrant sesame seeds, crispy bacon and spicy sausages, fresh peaches and plums, sliced and laid in an interwoven pattern, and a dish of creamy yogurt with sweet, golden honey.

“Tessa, what part of the States are you from?” The queen’s question had a tone of mild interrogation.

“Connecticut.”

“A lovely state. Are you near Greenwich?”

“Yes, very close.” In geography. In lifestyle, though, a million miles.

Tessa hated saying where she was from. Wealthy and privileged people immediately assumed she was one of them. It was embarrassing for everyone when they eventually found out she wasn’t.

That’s when she learned who her real friends were.

She had to give Sebastian credit. He hadn’t blinked when she told him she was a scholarship student.

But why would he care? She was just his employee.

“And what does your father do, dear?” The queen lifted an elegantly arched brow.

Jeez. Was she back in high school? Rich people could be very predictable. “He’s retired now.”

She sipped her juice. Partly to prevent her tongue from saying, He’s a retired school custodian. Yes, you heard right, he cleaned the school. Not quite what you were expecting, was it?

The queen’s tight smile did nothing to soothe her churning stomach. Suddenly she wished she was back home, under the covers in her familiar apartment.

Still, she attempted to act normal and make polite conversation during the meal, instead of gazing around the room and gawking at her companions.

It wasn’t easy.

When the king and queen left the room together, it was all she could do not to sag in her chair in relief.

“More yogurt?” Sebastian lifted the ornate golden urn that looked as though it had been passed down at least ten generations.

“No, thanks. I really should get to work. Would you please show me where the files are? I want to dig out what we’ll need for the meeting.”

“Absolutely not.” He rose in a swift motion. “We have far more important things to do.”

“Like what?”

“You must see our country. More coffee?”

“No, thanks, I’m fine. I might blast off if I drink more of that stuff.”

“Good, right?”

She couldn’t resist smiling in response to his enthusiastic grin. “Fantastic.” Her toes tingled at the idea of exploring the world she’d glimpsed from her window. “Could we go see the harbor?”

“Of course.” Sebastian rose from his chair and held out his hand for her to take it.

He never did that at the office.

Tessa slid her fingers into his strong hand, and let him pull her from her chair. He didn’t move out of the way as she stood, so she found herself dangerously close to his muscled chest. His warm, male scent of sunshine and spice.

Her skin prickled at his nearness.

Why didn’t he move?

His dark eyes drifted over her pale green dress. “You look lovely today, Tessa.”

“Thanks.” She swallowed.

He never usually noticed what she was wearing.

He hadn’t let go of her hand, either. Her palm heated against his.

What was he up to?

Four

“Your hair is wavy.” Sebastian’s gaze followed the undulating mass of hair that she’d tied back with a clasp before breakfast.

Tessa’s hand sprang self-consciously to her head. At least it was nearly dry. “My dryer didn’t fit the outlet.”

Sebastian reached behind her head, his arm almost brushing her cheek in a swift movement that made her gasp. With thumb and finger he unsnapped her hair clip and removed it. Her hair tumbled down her back.

His eyes shone with appreciation. “You should always wear it like this.” He pocketed her clip. “Why do women scorch the natural beauty out of their hair?”

“It looks neater blow-dried straight.”

“I disagree.” He reached into her hair.

Tessa fought the urge to protest. This was totally unprofessional! He stroked her hair. Heat rippled in her belly and she swallowed the desire to purr like a contented cat.

She gulped for air. Had he forgotten she had a boyfriend? “Where are we heading?”

“The harbor. I’ll phone ahead and have my boat prepared.”

He withdrew his hand from her hair and reached into his pocket for his cell.

Oh, how the other half lived.

Tessa expected a chauffeured limousine—especially since that’s how Sebastian generally moved around New York.

But no. They left the palace on foot, through an arched doorway that took them out onto one of the winding cobbled streets flanked with whitewashed buildings.

She was even more astonished when Sebastian stopped to greet ordinary citizens. He seemed to know everyone on a first-name basis, and inquired after their families and their businesses like an old friend.

Weirder still, Tessa found she could understand snatches of conversation, although she’d never had the need to learn the Caspian language.

After a few introductions, she made a halting attempt to greet an elderly man in Caspian.

Sebastian rewarded her efforts with a broad grin. “You speak like a native.”

“No, I don’t! But I’m having fun trying. How come so many of the words sound familiar?”

“Did you study Latin in school?”

“I went to St. Peter’s.” She chuckled. “You know the snootiest prep school on the East Coast made everyone take Latin.”

“That’s why you understand us. Caspians speak a dialect of Latin that’s changed little since the time of the Roman Empire. Add a vowel at the end of a few words, and you’re speaking Caspian. Some words haven’t changed at all. Te amo, for example, still means I love you.”

Mischief sparkled in his eyes.

Tessa ignored the rush of heat to her chest. He was toying with her! What a nerve. Just because she’d handed in her notice he thought he could let loose and flirt with her before she quit?

Te amo. Yeah. Right. As if she was dumb enough to join the cohorts of women notched on his bedpost. Maybe he thought it would be fun to make her fall in love with him—then dump her—as punishment for quitting her job and leaving him in the lurch.

Sebastian had a reputation for treating seduction as a sport. His little black book—little BlackBerry, rather—must have a thousand names in it. She knew about all those starlets and models and fashion designers, not to mention tennis star Andrea Raditz and soccer champion Leah Mannion. Oh, yes, and half his graduating class at Brown University. And let’s not even get into all those British girls he’d romanced during his years at Eton.

Loving Sebastian was a game with a very crowded playing field, and she had no intention of joining in.

When they reached the end of a row of stuccoed buildings, Tessa stood facing the magnificent bay she’d seen from her room.

The sea breeze cooled her, and the salt air mingled with the sharp scent of lemons piled high on a nearby market stall.

“This scene looks as if it hasn’t changed in two thousand years.”

“It probably hasn’t, at least on the surface. The wireless Internet is pretty recent.” He flashed a sly smile. “No one’s sure who first built this harbor. It’s been here for all of recorded history.”

They walked toward the water. Almost turquoise in the shallow bay, it lapped against ancient blocks of stone worn smooth by the passage of a million feet.

A long painted boat bobbed a few feet offshore, and Sebastian waved to the man seated in its prow. He punted the boat alongside the quay, and lashed it to a giant iron ring.

The boatman was young and handsome. Tessa found herself held on both sides by gorgeous Caspian men as she stepped down into the rocking, red interior.

Sebastian jumped in after her. He landed so lightly on his feet, the boat barely twitched. “Feels good to be back on the water. A true Caspian gets edgy on dry land for too long.”

He settled back into a red velvet banquette that spanned the width of the boat. “Give us the full tour, Dino. Tessa has never been to our country before.”

“That is deprivation, indeed,” said Dino, in unaccented English.

“Ita vero,” agreed Tessa in Latin.

Sebastian grinned. “Show-off.”

Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and?”

He leaned back on the seat and once again wove his long fingers into the thick, loose mass of her untamed hair. “I like a woman who’s not afraid to show what she’s made of,” he whispered.

Dino tactfully kept his eyes on the harbor wall as they rowed toward it.

Tessa’s blood heated with a mix of excitement and confusion. Her nipples rose to meet the delicate chiffon of her summery dress, and she became instantly aware that they were likely visible, since the strappy design didn’t allow for a bra.

“What impressive stonework,” she exclaimed, to draw Sebastian’s eyes away. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was aroused. “How did they get it here?”

“Historians speculate that they floated the huge carved blocks out there on wooden rafts. They also talk about a giant golden statue that used to guard the entrance to the harbor.”

“What happened to it?”

“Some people think it’s buried under the sand out there.

A team of archaeologists once tried to find it, but they couldn’t. With new sonar technologies, though, it might be worth another look.”

“Could be an interesting tourist attraction.”

“Exactly.”

Attracting people to Caspia was a passion of Sebastian’s. Now that she was here, she could see why. “How come there hasn’t been much tourism until now? It’s so incredibly beautiful.”

The sun sparkled on the clear, shallow water. She could see the clean sandy floor below. A boat loaded with freshcaught fish chugged by, heading for the quay.

“For so long, we had no hotels, no advertising, an obscure language that no one speaks.” He glanced at her, sun dancing in his dark eyes. “Much as it pains me, I suspect the average person still isn’t even aware Caspia exists.”

He turned to stare at a white-sailed yacht cruising nearby. “Tessa, does that man look familiar?”

She squinted against the high sun and looked at a tall, tanned man with salt-and-pepper hair in a yellow polo shirt. She recognized his face from the TV news. “It looks like Senator Kendrick. What would he be doing here?”

Sebastian grabbed a pair of binoculars out of a compartment under the seat. “I thought so. He used to live in my building.” He leaned over the side of the boat. “Michael! Charmaine!”

He spoke rapidly in Caspian to the boatman, who steered in their direction. Within minutes, Sebastian was helping Tessa up the ladder into the Kendricks’ yacht.

Sebastian kissed them on both cheeks and introduced her. Nervous, she babbled that she was his assistant visiting from New York.

“I can’t believe you came to Caspia without letting me know,” Sebastian chided gently.

“We didn’t really plan our visit,” Mrs. Kendrick explained. “Michael decided to surprise me with a whirlwind tour of the Mediterranean to celebrate our thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

Thirty years? Tessa hoped she looked that good ten years from now. Charmaine Kendrick’s short, blond hair swept back to reveal an alert face. Her rose-colored shorts showed off fit, tanned legs.

“And naturally we couldn’t sail right past Caspia,” cut in the senator. “Not after you’ve sung its praises to us so often.”

“You can see I wasn’t exaggerating.” Sebastian had his arm around both of them. “I’ll be deeply offended if you won’t join us at the palace for lunch.”

Mrs. Kendrick brightened at this suggestion, but her husband quashed it with the explanation that they had a strict itinerary to stick to.

“Twenty ports in twenty days.” Charmaine laughed. “We’re expected in Piraeus tomorrow morning.”

“What can I show you of Caspia while you’re here? The ancient market? The early Christian frescoes? The Ottoman mosque?”

Tessa’s ears pricked up. She silently voted for the frescoes.

Mrs. Kendrick shielded her eyes from the sun with a manicured hand. “Oh, my goodness, does that sign say Dolce & Gabbana?”

“It does.” Sebastian grinned. “And that’s BCBG Max Azria right next to it. How about some shopping?”

The senator clapped Sebastian on the back. “Charmaine never says no to shopping.”

“Well, dear, we do have a lot of functions to go to. And I didn’t realize it would still be so warm at this time of year.”

“And scanty evening wear is something I never say no to.” Senator Kendrick’s tanned face eased into a grin.

The senator begged off going ashore with them and asked Tessa to keep him company while Sebastian took Mrs. Kendrick to the stores in his gondola.

Tessa didn’t mind. She’d rather sit on a yacht and watch the water than shop any day. And if she remembered right, Senator Kendrick was a keen supporter of spending for education, a cause she held dear.

He guided her to the front of the yacht, where two padded seats looked out over the prow. She eased herself in next to him.

“So, you’re Stone’s assistant?”

“Yes.” She turned to Kendrick with a smile. “I’m here to organize a meeting.”

“Working for royalty must be rather bizarre for a girl used to American democracy.” He puffed his athletic chest inside his lemon polo shirt.

“It was a bit strange at first, but I don’t think much about it. The people of Caspia seem very content with their royal family.”

“I don’t suppose they have much choice.” Senator Kendrick leaned in. His grin gave her a close-up of his blazing white teeth. There was something weird about his skin. Smooth and shiny, it looked like the skin of someone who’d had dermabrasion to erase wrinkles.

She looked over to the quay, where Sebastian was helping Mrs. Kendrick out onto the stone sidewalk that flanked the row of luxury boutiques.

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

“I guess I’m just dazzled by the view.” His pale blue eyes fixed on hers. “I’m rather dazzled by it myself.”

Something about the way he stared at her made Tessa’s stomach tighten.

“Too much foreign food and foreign scenery makes me pine for a little taste of home.” He leaned in so close that his freckled arm brushed against hers. Her hairs stood on end.

She forced a laugh. “You’re craving corn dogs and apple pie?”

“Something like that. I bet you’re tired of being hit on by swarthy Mediterranean men.”

“Not at all. The Caspians I’ve met have been very polite and charming.”

“Carrying a torch for your prince, are you?” Senator Kendrick’s salt-and-pepper eyebrow lifted.

“What?”

“I suppose all silly young girls fill their heads with fantasies of crowns and coronets. An American senator has a good deal more power than a tin-pot monarch.”

“I imagine that’s a matter of opinion.”

Her stomach knotted. It would be tough to swim for shore in the long dress. She’d lost sight of Sebastian, too. He’d gone into one of the shops.

She decided to redirect the conversation. “What do you think about mandatory school testing? Do you think it ensures an even playing field, or do you think it makes teachers gear lessons too much toward the tests?”

Senator Kendrick threw his head back and guffawed with laughter. “I came here to get away from all that claptrap and political bull. Now I’m sailing on a boat with a beautiful blonde and she wants to bend my ear about education? I feel as if I’m back in New York.”

The disgust in his voice made her eyes widen. She thought she caught a whiff of something on his breath, too. Whiskey?

She gathered her skirt about her knees and groped for a good excuse to leave the intimate seating.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’d like to take a walk on the deck.”

“It’s a small yacht. There’s barely room to take three steps.” His pale eyes narrowed. He leaned over her and trapped her with his arm by placing his hand on the armrest on the far side of her. “I can think of some far more interesting things to do.”

He’s going to kiss me.

The thought rushed Tessa’s brain as his pursed lips rushed her mouth.

Instinct kicked in. Since she couldn’t pull back, she whipped forward and smashed him in the nose with her forehead. She was on her feet and back on the deck in seconds. A young male sailor knelt nearby, winding some rope.

Senator Kendrick appeared around the sail, rubbing his nose. He glared at her. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t.” She stood with her hands on her hips.

Now that her adrenaline was flowing she’d like him to try that again. She’d enjoy pitching him into the drink.

Maybe he read her mind, because he disappeared down some stairs into the belly of the boat.

She dusted her hands, which felt oddly satisfying. Hopefully her forehead wouldn’t bruise. What a jerk! Did he think she’d want to kiss him?

She suspected he didn’t spare a thought for what she wanted. She was a nobody. An assistant. A pretty, emptyheaded bimbo to toy with.

The disturbing part was that she didn’t want to tell Sebastian. He was obviously pleased to have important American visitors come to his country and she didn’t want to spoil it for him.

It seemed an eternity before Sebastian finally appeared, his gondola laden with shiny bags from the boutiques.

Sebastian was all smiles as he helped Charmaine Kendrick back onto the boat. Tessa’s heart squeezed with pity for the woman married to such a—

Now, now. She was the assistant to a prince. Nice girls didn’t use words like that.

The senator—and she used the word loosely—must have been watching from below, because he came on the deck as soon as they arrived. He marched right past Tessa without looking at her.

“Did you buy some beautiful things, my dear?” He kissed his wife’s cheek. “You know I want you to have everything your heart desires.”

To make up for your cheating louse of a husband. Tessa could barely keep a straight face. Just the sight of the man made her flesh crawl.

“Tessa.” Sebastian’s voice in her ear made her jump. “Are you okay?” He murmured it low.

“Sure. I’m fine.” Her attempt at bright and breezy came out rather stiff.

Sebastian shot a glance at the senator, who was “oohing” over some shimmery red number his wife pulled from a striped bag. “Seriously, you don’t look yourself.” His dark eyes filled with concern as he looked at her again.

Her stomach tangled. Should she tell him?

For all she knew her revelation might start an international incident. And she didn’t want anything else to spoil this beautiful day. She was pretty sure the senator would turn tail and run as soon as she and the prince left the boat.

“I guess I don’t have my sea legs yet.” She glanced at the mirror-calm water of the harbor and swallowed.

“In that case, we must get you back on solid ground.”

Senator Kendrick clapped a jovial hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. Was his nose looking a tad swollen? “As I said, we’ve got a full itinerary. Our captain informed me that we must set sail before noon or we’ll never make Piraeus in time.”

He shot an icy glance at Tessa. She lifted her chin.

Yes. Definitely swollen. And a black eye seemed to be starting on the left side, too. Hah! Maybe he’d think twice before assaulting someone next time.

Sebastian kissed Charmaine on the cheek and made her promise to come back. Tessa was relieved she wouldn’t be here when they did. She managed a curt goodbye to the man who’d spoiled her perfect morning.

Back in the gondola, with Sebastian’s big, protective presence beside her, she shivered with relief.

“Enough boating for you.” He leaned over the side and trailed his fingers in the water. “Warm. Want to take a dip?”

“Right here?” Panic crept over her. “I don’t have a swimsuit with me.”

“You didn’t bring one at all?”

“No. I came here to study the files and help with the meeting, remember?”

“Oh, yes. That.” He seemed to have genuinely forgotten. His eyes brightened. “We must find you a suit immediately.”

He murmured instructions to the boatman. Spoken fast, the language was much harder to understand. She did catch the word Valentino.

“I don’t need a Valentino swimsuit,” she protested. “Is there an ordinary clothes store where I could find a suit?”

“What’s wrong with Valentino?” He raised a brow.

“It’s outrageously expensive, that’s what.”

Being a prince clearly made you lose touch with reality. Which probably didn’t much matter if you were a prince.

She, however, had to save for the down payment on the apartment she’d be renting in LA. Patrick hadn’t yet mentioned cohabiting and she’d decided it would be tacky and pushy to suggest it.

They could work up to that.

She wouldn’t tell Patrick about the senator, either.

He’d probably think she’d been dressed too provocatively or something.

“Beautiful things are always expensive. It’s the way of the world.” Sebastian eased his broad shoulders against the velvet seat.

“No, they’re not.” She sat up. “Usually things that cost nothing are the most beautiful.” She looked up to where the sun illuminated the rocky peaks that stood sentinel over the town. “Does the blue sky cost money? The clear water? The fresh air?”

She paused. Perhaps there were cleanup crews constantly at work scrubbing and whitewashing Caspia.

“The sun in your golden hair.”

Sebastian’s low voice caught her off guard.

“What?”

“Beautiful.” His eyes were narrowed, seductive.

Heat swelled in her chest, then morphed into a clench of anxiety. Was she inadvertently sending out some signal that she was interested or available?

She crossed her arms over her chest. “For all you know it costs a fortune to get my hair this color.”

“Does it?” He looked curious.

She laughed again. “No. It’s naturally a dark, mousy blond.”

“It’s perfect. And the Caspian sun admires it as much as I.”

For a second she thought he was going to weave his fingers into her hair again. Her body braced in a mixture of terror and anticipation.

The boat bumped gently against the quay.

The boatman lashed the long boat to a metal ring set in the giant stones.

Tessa gathered her long dress and climbed out of the yawing boat with as much dignity as possible. The ancient stone buildings stood shoulder to shoulder along a stone walkway, inlaid with mosaic. She noticed small, tasteful signs above some of the doorways. “Chanel, Ferragamo, Armani.”

“All the stores we’ve been working with.”

He linked his arm though hers. She had to admit that his strong arm felt wonderfully supportive after what she’d just been through with a man she once respected. Sebastian would never take advantage of a vulnerable woman.

Not unless she wanted him to.

Now that she’d seen the Kendricks’ white yacht leave through the harbor mouth, she started to relax, caressed by gentle sea breezes and the bright sun.

Inside Valentino, Sebastian addressed the fawning male clerk. “We’d like to see some swimsuits.”

“Bikini or one-piece?”

“Bikini,” Sebastian said firmly, before she’d managed to get her mouth open. The clerk hadn’t even glanced at her. She wasn’t sure he was even aware of her standing there, next to His Royal Highness.

“That’s the one.” Sebastian pointed to a greenish suit, four microscopic triangles held together by gold rings.

Tessa tilted her head. “Are you sure that’s not a pair of earrings?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Try it on. If it doesn’t fit the rest of you, we’ll hang it from your ears.”

Reluctant, she took the hanger and followed the clerk into a changing room. Thick carpet greeted her feet as she slipped off her sandals behind a heavy curtain. Was she supposed to go out and show Sebastian the bikini?

There was no mirror in the curtained cubicle, so she had to creep out into the main dressing room to confront her almost-naked body in a wall of mirrors.

She approached the mirror carefully, expecting an eyeful of skinny-and-pale.

“Very nice.”

Sebastian’s deep voice made her jump. She spun around to see him standing by the entrance to the dressing rooms, arms crossed and a smile of appreciation sneaking across his arrogant mouth.

“I could use a tan.”

“Then the sooner we get out in the sun, the better.” His smile became a broad grin. He held out his arm. “Let’s go.”

She laughed. “I have to get dressed again. And pay. This scrap of fabric is probably two hundred dollars.”

He smiled wryly. “I’ve already paid. Here’s the matching sarong.” He handed her a shimmering piece of greenand-gold fabric.

Their hands brushed as she took it from him. A swift touch that made her heart beat faster.

For all she knew it was actually five hundred dollars and the sarong twice as much.

She sucked in a breath.

Eek. This was all a bit much.

It wasn’t appropriate to let her boss dress her up like a Barbie doll. Especially when she was practically engaged to someone else.

Thoughts of Patrick seemed rather out of place here in Caspia. He didn’t like hot sun and he’d be bored on the water. When they’d gone sailing out of Westport with one of his clients, he’d kept flipping on his PDA to check stock quotes.

Very practical. Sensible. The kind of person who’d make a responsible husband and father. So she’d better make sure she kept Patrick—and her own future—foremost in her mind.

Five

White liveried servants brought Tessa and Sebastian a lunch of handmade delicacies on the private palace dock. Hidden from the world by carved stone walls, they sipped fresh lemonade with sprigs of fragrant mint while seawater lapped at the sun-bleached quay. Bright flowers bloomed in ornate urns, their leaves occasionally ruffled by the warm breeze.

Tessa wriggled, trying not to get too comfortable on the soft lounge chair. She wore the bikini. She could hardly refuse when he’d sunk so much money into it.

“I really should call the attendees for the meeting.”

“Not yet. You need heliotherapy.” Sebastian picked up the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in a quick motion.

She jerked her gaze away from the sight of his bronzed washboard abs.

“Helio-what?” She fixed her attention on a seagull, then quickly became dizzy as it turned in tight circles, scanning the water for its lunch.

Sebastian was stretching. She could tell without looking.

Her nerve endings could see him. All the tiny invisible blond hairs all over her. Her nipples must be looking, too, because they buzzed like pressed doorbells.

“Heliotherapy. Sunlight as a curative. Practiced in Caspia since the time of Hippocrates.”

She couldn’t manage to avert her eyes as he eased back into his chair, settling his broad shoulders into the soft fabric.

A narrow cyclone of black hair started between his well-developed pecs, twisted down the center of his rockhard stomach, then disappeared below the button of his black trunks.

“I thought…” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat. “I thought the sun gave you skin cancer.”

Sebastian snorted. “Caspians have the longest lifespan of any people on earth.” He lifted his arms behind his head, and his impressive biceps bulged.

Tessa blinked.

“Well, you have pretty dark skin.” All over. At least the parts she could see. She tried not to think about the others.

“So did you last summer. Have you been living under a rock this year?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I have, lately. The rock of Caspia Designs and its gritty financials.”

Sebastian turned his head and assaulted her with one of his penetrating stares. “And that is exactly why I won’t have you scurrying off to bury yourself again.”

His eyes grazed her face, then wandered over her neck. “You need sun, good food, fresh air and laughter. Then you won’t want to run away to California in search of things that can be found right where you are now.”

He settled his head back with a smile of satisfaction and closed his eyes.

He’d noticed her tan last summer?

She’d managed a large group plot in a local community garden, which kept her outdoors digging, weeding and watering at least an hour a day.

She’d had a great time, too. Hadn’t spent one single evening sighing over her lack of husband prospects or her ticking biological clock.

This year she hadn’t the time or energy for the garden. So she’d also missed out on the companionship, sunshine, fresh air and fresh food that came along with the experience.

Instead she’d been telling herself things would get better once she left New York and started over.

Maybe Sebastian had a point.

A self-protective urge to argue with him tickled her vocal cords. But he looked so peaceful and contented lying there in the sun. She didn’t want to be snotty and point out that the older citizens of Caspia were pretty leathery looking.

Besides, she liked leather.

Still, sunblock would be a good idea. She fished the bottle from her bag and started to rub it on her exposed belly.

“Let me help.”

She glanced up to see Sebastian’s winning smile again. The one that made her so suspicious of his motives.

She fought the urge to laugh. “That’s okay, I’ve got it covered.”

“Not yet, you haven’t. I’ll do your back.” He took the bottle from her in a firm swipe. “Turn around.”

She turned, swinging her legs to the other side of the lounger. “Are you this commanding with people who aren’t your employees?”

“I prefer to think of myself as straightforward.”

His hands settled on her shoulders.

One way to be straightforward.

Breath rushed out of her lungs at the sensation of his broad fingertips, moist with lotion, rubbing her skin. He smoothed the sunblock over the nape of her neck, feathering it over her vertebrae with little thumb motions. She curled her toes, trying to fight the warm pool of arousal spreading in her abdomen.

His broad palms swirled lotion over her shoulder blades, kneading her muscle at the same time. It was hard to ignore the sensation of release spreading through her.

Then his fingers slid under the scanty string of her bikini. She gasped. For some reason the gesture seemed shockingly intimate.

“Hold still. I need more lotion.” His voice was unusually gruff. She felt quite naked as he pulled his hands from her body.

She heard him rubbing the sunblock between his hands to warm it, and her skin tingled in anticipation of his touch.

Ooh. Right there in the sensitive spots on either side of her waist. She tried not to wriggle. Or giggle.

His fingers slid around to rub it over her belly button. She should protest that she could do that herself, but she’d lost the power of speech.

Probably because in reaching forward to rub her front, Sebastian had moved so close that she could smell his stirring male scent.

“Relax,” he commanded. “Why are you tightening up?”

Um, because my boss is rubbing my bare flesh with his fingers?

She managed to clear her throat. “Guess I’m overworked. Must be my demanding boss.”

“I’ll have a word with him.”

She could hear the smile in his voice.

He pushed his fingers into the tight muscle on either side of her spine, causing her to arch her back and let go a tiny moan of pleasure.

“Ah, yes.”

“What?” she croaked.

“I can see the problem.”

“What problem?” Ohhhh. His thumbs settled into the dimples above her bikini bottom. That felt…wicked.

“You need to let go of all tension.”

“I think I’m pretty close.”

“No. Your muscles are still working to hold you upright.” His palms rubbed the sides of her waist. There wasn’t even a hint of lotion left on them. Ripples of sensation skittered over her.

“Let me guess, you want me to lie down.”

“No.”

He didn’t stop kneading the muscles behind her hips. She craned her neck around to read his expression.

His dark eyes flashed mischief. “I want you to float.”

Sebastian lifted her off her chair before she could draw breath to protest. He held her in his arms, and for a second she thought he was going to heave her right into the water lapping against the stone quay.

Instead he marched to the edge, and jumped.

She let out a piercing scream as they plummeted through the air for a split second before splashing into the water. Tessa managed to close her mouth before they plunged below the blue-green surface into the silent world below.

Eyes shut tight and Sebastian’s strong arms still tight around her, she surfaced, gasping for breath. “What the—”

“Now relax.”

“Relax? You’ve half drowned me!” She struggled, trying to get free of his arms.

She looked up at his face as he brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. His expression was serious, his touch deft and careful.

Then their eyes met and her stomach did a weird leaping thing.

Being held close against his warm, wet chest felt anything but safe.

He trod water, holding them both up. His powerful legs created a swell, while his embrace seemed effortless, and strangely soothing.

“Let your legs float. I won’t let go. I promise.”

His deep voice tickled her wet ear.

She fought the ripple of pleasure it summoned. “Why would I believe you after you already dunked me?”

“The Caspian royal family never breaks a promise. Our motto is Honor Omnia Vincit.”

“Honor conquers all, huh?”

“Engraved on my heart.”

He flexed a brawny bicep in her face. There, scrolled into the pattern winding over his arm, were the words he’d spoken.

She tried to brush off the sensations sneaking through her. “I’ve got news for you. Your heart isn’t really on your sleeve. It’s an expression.”

Sebastian’s mouth creased into a smile. “Maybe I should dunk you.” He dipped her a couple of inches.

Her stomach tightened, then softened when he brought her gently back to the surface. Water played over her stomach, echoing the ripple of arousal inside it. “It’s a beautiful tattoo. Does every man in the family get one?”

Sebastian glanced down at it. The pattern of stylized leaves traced the swell of his muscles to ring his upper arm just below the shoulder. “I’ve had it so long I forget it’s there. But no, it’s not traditional.” His eyes sparkled with humor. “My mom almost died when she saw it. I got it when I was sixteen after I went to an Eric Clapton concert in London with some friends.”

Tessa laughed. “That’s such a…regular guy thing to do.”

“Who says I’m not a regular guy, as well as a prince?” He raised a brow.

Somehow that stopped her in her tracks. Not that she was making any tracks, since Sebastian still held her fast in his arms and her feet bobbed near the surface of the water. Royal trappings aside, Sebastian was just a guy. With a mind and heart and feelings. Like everyone else.

Like her.

She ignored the funny sensation in her gut. “It’s lucky I was always strapped for cash as a teen or I might have the New York Knicks emblazoned on me somewhere. What made you decide to get the family motto?”

Sebastian looked at the scrolled words. “Caspia and its people are my team. I might have occasionally cheered for, say, Manchester United, but my heart is always in Caspia, and as you’ve observed, I wanted to wear it on my sleeve. Still do.”

His eyes shone with a mix of passion and humor that made her heart squeeze.

How had their relationship gone overnight from five years of formal and professional relations to half-naked conversations and underwater encounters?

In some ways it was her wildest fantasy come true. The man she’d admired and mooned over for so long was actually teasing and flirting with her. It was hard not to be flattered.

And excited.

Sebastian adjusted his grip, sliding his strong arms under her. “Let your head rest. Let go. The water will carry you.”

“I think you’re doing most of the work.”

“I wouldn’t call it work.” His deep voice had a playful tone.

But what was he playing at? They both knew this flirtation couldn’t go anywhere. Not anywhere sensible, at least.

She shot him a challenging glance. “Me, either. I have phone calls to make.”

“First you must heal and recover. Hydrotherapy has been recognized for thousands of years as a powerful curative.” He shifted one of the hands supporting her torso and splashed a few drops of water on her hot skin.

She swallowed hard, trying to crush the sensations swelling inside her. “You should open a spa. Ancient healing therapies seem to be a specialty of yours.”

“Excellent idea. Why didn’t I think of that? See how valuable you are to me?”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Stop what?” His expression was all innocence.

“Buttering me up so I’ll stay and work for you.”

Or do whatever else it is that you have in mind.

“Can you blame me?”

“Well, no. I am efficient and organized.” She raised a brow. “And I do my best to present a professional appearance. Though that seems to have fallen by the wayside today…” She glanced at her bare stomach. Drops of seawater sparkled on skin that had already started to tan. A result of Sebastian’s unthorough sunblock application.

What was he doing with his fingers? The pads of his fingertips played her waist like a piano, dancing over her until her insides hummed like vibrating strings.

Her nipples poked against the fabric of her scanty top. Heat and moisture gathered between her thighs, making her glad her bikini bottom was already damp.

Sebastian lowered his head so that his breath heated her ear. “As you point out, you are perfect. Which is exactly why you can’t leave. I won’t let you.”

She shivered, the force of his words sinking in.

I don’t want to leave.

She writhed slightly, trying to regain control of her body. The sensations swimming through her were startling and unfamiliar. Warm water swirled around her while the breeze tickled her bare skin above it. Sebastian’s powerful hands held her crushed against his muscled chest. His musky scent wound through the salty tang in the air, threatening to overwhelm her senses.

Suddenly she was panting, gasping for breath, struggling against the firm hold of Sebastian’s arms and the ache of her unwelcome arousal. “I have to stand!” She shoved against him with her elbow.

“It’s too deep.”

Flailing in the water, she started to panic. Frantic kicking had freed her from Sebastian, but now, head reeling and body throbbing, she couldn’t seem to remember how to swim.

“It’s okay, Tessa, I won’t let you sink.” Sebastian took her hand and tugged her gently to the stone dock. He didn’t try to grab or control her, just guided her through the water. She grabbed a metal ring and clung to it.

She blew out a sharp blast of air. “I’m sorry. I guess it was all too much. I’m not cut out to be relaxed. It freaks me out.”

Sebastian’s look of concern eased into a grin. “You’re a real New Yorker. You’d rather resist than relax.”

“I’m from Connecticut,” she protested.

“Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“See, you want to fight me already.”

“I do not!” She shifted her grip on the ring. How had this man managed to so thoroughly unhinge her?

“Oh, yeah?” He shoved his hand in the water and splashed her. Hard.

She splashed back and kicked with her feet, showering him completely with water until he ducked below the surface.

He rose up, laughing. “See what I mean?”

She shoved another wave of water at him. Damn. He was right. She felt better already.

She could even stare right at his handsome face with the water streaming over its hard lines and feel…almost normal.

“Do you surrender?” she challenged.

“Caspians never surrender.”

“Honor Omnia Vincit, and all that.” Her eyes wandered to the tattoo circling his thick bicep.

“Exactly. And since I am a man of honor, I’ll help you out of the water. I think we’ve both had enough hydrotherapy for one afternoon.” His black hair hung in his eyes, dripping with water.

He looked very unroyal.

And devastatingly handsome.

“It’s okay. I can swim. I grew up in a coastal town. In Connecticut.” She dodged his offered hand and darted around him, diving under and pulling hard for the stone steps twenty feet along the dock.

As she climbed out of the water she sensed his eyes on her. She adjusted her scanty bikini, not that it made much difference. His steady dark gaze threatened to evaporate the water right off her.

This was so wrong.

A strange noise pierced the air. It took her a full five seconds to realize it was her cell phone. She dived for it, dragging her sarong over her bare legs.

Patrick. His work number. He’d called three times this morning just to “see how she was.”

How could she talk to him now, while her inside pulsed with desire for another man?

Guilt speared through her as she pushed the button to send him straight to voice mail.

“Now can we see the files? I’m kind of a workaholic, so I get neurotic if I’m not allowed to work.”

“You are working. You are my assistant and you are assisting me in enjoying my day.” His arrogant expression dared her to argue.

She fought the urge to laugh. Obnoxious jerk!

And he was right, too, which made it worse.

She sucked in a deep breath and tried to compose herself. All she had to do was survive her two weeks’ notice without doing anything stupid, then she could get on with the rest of her life.

“Do you have jeans?” His question yanked her back to the present.

“Yes.”

“Great.”

He shrugged his white linen shirt back on, right over his wet skin. It clung to his ripped chest in a very disturbing way. She was still attempting to tear her gaze from the sight when he looked up. “What are you waiting for?”

“What am I supposed to be doing?”

“Getting your jeans.”

“Oh.”

Sebastian looked at her as if she’d lost a cog or two. He was right. Of course, it was all his fault.

“I’ll, uh, be right back.” She strode into the palace, hoping she could find her way to her room.

In the wide, colonnaded hallway she passed the queen, who was talking at top speed on a cell phone. Despite her damp and seminaked appearance, Tessa prepared her brightest smile. Her Royal Majesty glanced up but didn’t make any acknowledgment.

Ouch.

What did she expect? She was Sebastian’s assistant, not a visiting princess. Get over yourself already.

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