The Prince's Ultimate Deception

noa.”

He seemed tense, as if he expected her to question his statement, and she should. If he had a college degree and spoke four languages fluently then why was he acting as a tour guide? It didn’t make sense. She reminded herself that not everyone was as career driven as she was, but Damon didn’t seem the type to kick back and let the fates determine his future. She’d seen enough type A guys to recognize the signs and he waved them all like flags. But that was his business. A string-free affair—if they had one—didn’t give her the right to interfere.

“The States? No kidding. What brings you to Monaco?”

“I am studying their tourism industry.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll apply what I’ve learned to my future endeavors.” He zipped the dive bag and grabbed the handles. Eager to go, was he? Before she could ask what kinds of endeavors, he said, “If we leave now we’ll have time to stop at the hotel café for a snack before I leave you. You have missed lunch.”

“I’m in no rush. I had hoped we could spend the rest of the afternoon together. Maybe play some beach volleyball or jump on the trampoline at the far end of the beach? And this place is surrounded by restaurants. We could grab a bite here.”

“I have another appointment.”

She tried to hide her disappointment. While she had enjoyed the day, it hadn’t gone quite as she’d hoped. Admittedly, she wasn’t a practiced seductress, but if she wanted a vacation romance it looked as though she’d have to work harder for it.

Time to initiate Plan B. First she freed and finger-combed her hair while trying to build up her courage, and then she reached beneath her dress, untied her damp bikini top and pulled it through the scooped neckline.

A muscle at the corner of Damon’s mouth ticked and his throat worked as he swallowed.

“You may change in one of the dressing rooms, as I will,” he said hoarsely. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“No need. Besides, I didn’t bring a change of clothing.” Her nipples tightened when he didn’t look away. Well, hallelujah. He’d been so professional and distant she’d begun to think she’d imagined the sparks between them.

And then in an act more brazen than anything she’d ever dared, she reached beneath her dress and shucked her bikini bottom. She twirled the wet black fabric once around her finger before tucking it along with her top in her tote. Take that, big guy. If Damon insisted on hustling her back to the hotel and dumping her, then he’d have to do so knowing she was naked except for a thin knit sheath.

Never let it be said that Madeline Spencer wouldn’t fight for what she wanted, and in her opinion, Damon Rossi was the perfect prescription to mend her bruised ego and heart. A few weeks with him and she’d return home whole and healed.

“I wonder what all the commotion’s about?”

Madeline’s question pulled Dominic from his complicated calculations of hotel occupancy rates as the taxi approached Hôtel Reynard. He’d been attempting to distract himself from the knowledge that she was completely nude beneath her dress and failing miserably.

A camera-carrying group of a dozen or so paparazzi stood sentry across the street from the hotel with their zoom lenses trained on the limo parked by the entrance. Dominic silently swore. His escape route had been sealed. He leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Rue Langlé, s’il vous plaît.”

Madeline’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Where are we going?”

“I do not wish to fight the crowd. We’ll dine in a quiet café instead of the hotel.” Ian would not like the unplanned detour, and Makos, the second bodyguard who kept in such deep cover that Dominic rarely spotted him, would like it even less.

“I thought you were in a hurry to get to another appointment.”

“It can wait.” There was no other appointment. He merely needed time away from the tempting woman beside him before he grabbed her and kissed that teasing smile from her lips. Even in the cool water, touching the wet silkiness of her skin had heated his blood. He’d wanted to flatten his palms over her waist, tangle his legs with her sleek limbs and pull her flush against him. A maneuver that probably would have drowned them both, he acknowledged wryly.

Dominic faced a conundrum. With each passing moment his desire for Madeline increased, and yet his lie stood between them. He ached for her, but he was reluctant to lose the unique relationship they had established. She looked at him, flirted with him, desired him. Not Prince Dominic. He was selfish enough to want to enjoy her attentions a while longer.

She twisted in her seat to stare out the taxi’s back window at the paparazzi as the driver took the roundabout away from the hotel. The shift slid her hem to the top of her thighs. A few more inches and he’d see what her bikini bottom should be covering. He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands against the urge to smooth his palm up her sleek thighs and over her bare buttocks.

“It’s probably just another celebrity,” she said. “Amelia says the hotel is crawling with them.”

“Who is Amelia?”

“My friend and one of the other bridesmaids. She’s a huge fan of entertainment magazines and shows. She claims the security inside the hotel makes it a celebrity hot spot. Supposedly paparazzi aren’t even allowed on the grounds, which would explain why they’re staked out across the street.”

He’d have to avoid her friend. “You are not interested in star gazing?”

She settled back in the seat and faced him. “No. I don’t have time to watch much TV or read gossip rags. I work four or five twelve-hour shifts each week, depending on how much overtime the hospital will allow me, and I usually go to the gym for another hour after work.”

That could explain why not even a flicker of recognition entered her eyes when she looked at him—not that he was a household name, but he was known unfortunately, thanks to a couple of wild years after Giselle’s death when he’d tried to smother his grief with women and parties. “Your diligence at the gym shows.”

She tilted her head, revealing the long line of her throat and the pulse fluttering rapidly at the base. “Is that a compliment, Damon?”

“I am sure you are aware of your incredible figure, Madeline. You do not need my accolades.” The words came out stiffly.

Her eyebrows dipped. “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a little…tense.”

His gaze dropped pointedly to her hiked hem.

She glanced down and her eyes widened. A peachy glow darkened her cheeks, making him question whether the siren role was a new one for her. And then the hint of a smile curved her lips as she wiggled the fabric down to a more respectable level. The woman was driving him insane and relishing every moment of his discomfort.

“Monaco is small enough that we could have walked to the café, you know,” she said.

“You have had enough sun.” And he was less likely to be recognized in an anonymous taxi. The driver pulled over in the street and stopped. Dominic paid him and opened the door. He noted Ian climbing from a taxi a half a block away. Dominic subtly angled his head toward the Italian café as a signal.

Madeline curled her fingers around Dominic’s and allowed him to assist her from the car. She joined him on the sidewalk, but didn’t release his hand. The small gesture tightened something inside him. When had he last held hands with a woman? Such a simple pleasure. One he hadn’t realized he’d missed.

She tipped back her head. “Monaco has strict protocol. Are you sure we’re dressed appropriately?”

One of us is. He had pulled on trousers and a polo shirt before leaving the beach. His attire was acceptable, as was Madeline’s if one was unaware she wore nothing beneath the thin yellow sundress. The driver retrieved the dive bag from the trunk. Dominic took it from him. “The café is casual. I recommend the prosciutto and melon or the bruschetta.”

He’d prefer to feast on her, on her rosy lips, on her soft, supple skin, on the tight nipples pushing against her dress.

Wondering when his intelligence had deserted him, Dominic led her inside and requested a table in the back. Madeline didn’t release his hand until he seated her. He chose a chair facing away from the door. The fewer people who saw his face the better and Ian would cover his back.

The entire afternoon had been an exercise in restraint and a reminder that he was not an accomplished liar. He had been so distracted by his unexpected attraction to Madeline that he had almost blown his cover. Had she not commented on his blond body hair he would have removed his shirt and his secret would be out.

Your secret is keeping her out of your bed.

Without a doubt, he desired Madeline Spencer, but getting women to share his bed had never been difficult. Getting one to see him as a mere man, however, was nearly impossible. He would have to reveal his identity soon for he did not think his control would last much longer, and then if he could be certain Madeline could be happy with a short-term affair, he would explore every inch of her. Repeatedly.

But before he revealed his secret he needed to discover hers. Why had she renounced love?

After placing their orders Dominic asked, “Did you love him?”

Her smile wobbled and then faded. Her fingers found and tugged one dark coil of hair. He wanted to wind the spirals around his fingers, around his—