The Prince Brothers: Satisfaction Guaranteed!: Prince's Passion / Prince's Pleasure / Prince's Love-Child

Not that she thought for a moment that time was going to be of any help to her whatsoever; it had already been two days—two excruciatingly tense days!—since the letter had arrived in the post office box from Nik Prince with, ‘Juliet India Nixon or just J. I. Watson? I think we need to talk, don’t you? Reception, The Waldorf, Wednesday at 10.30 a.m.’ written on it. And Jinx was no further now towards knowing how to deal with this forcefully determined man than she had been then!

She could try continuing to bluff her way out of it, of course, although she didn’t hold out much hope of this astutely intelligent man putting up with that for too long. She could try telling him the truth and appealing to his better nature—but did he have a ‘better nature’? The press seemed to think not—and, judging by his tenacity in tracking her down this last week, Jinx was inclined to agree with them.

Her chin rose slightly. ‘What do you want from me?’

Silver eyes gleamed. ‘The truth, of course.’

Her mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘Would you know that if it were to jump up and bite you on the nose?’

That silver gleam became slightly opaque now as his gaze narrowed. ‘Tell me, is this dislike personal, or just a general one towards movie directors?’

A week ago she would have said the latter, but Nik’s behaviour over the last week and a half hadn’t endeared him to her in the slightest. ‘Tell me, Mr Prince, exactly how did you come to the conclusion that I am J. I. Watson, rather than your initial assumption that it was my father?’ She made no effort to keep the derision from her voice.

He looked so much in control sitting across from her, so sure of himself, so—so damned arrogant. Because he was arrogant. And ruthless. A man who didn’t care about the how or why, as long as he got what he wanted. And this week he wanted to meet J. I. Watson. In fact, he believed that was exactly what he was doing.

She had no intention of telling him how wrong he was…

But even now, disliking him as much as she did, it was impossible to deny that just looking at him, so selfassured in casual trousers and a cream silk shirt, made her pulse race, sent a shiver of awareness down the length of her spine.

It had been this way since she’d first looked at him at Susan and Leo’s party. This complete awareness, just his gaze resting on her mouth—as it was now!—making her feel as if he had actually touched her there, caressed her.

‘Does it matter how I found out?’ He shrugged those powerful shoulders dismissively. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’ It was a statement rather than a question.

How to answer that?

She had never expected to have to answer questions like this. Because she had never thought the book would become such a runaway bestseller, with cries from all directions for the appearance of the author. And an offer to buy the film rights from such a prestigious director as Nik Prince…

He was still and silent as he waited for her to answer him, like a stalking tiger with his prey, that silver gaze almost hypnotic.

Jinx gave a deliberate smile, if only to show him that she wasn’t in the least mesmerised. Or in the least daunted by the fact that he believed he had discovered her real identity. ‘And what if it is?’ she evaded. ‘Surely I’ve made it more than obvious that I’m even less interested in your offer for the film rights than my father would have been?’

He arched one dark brow. ‘You haven’t heard my offer yet.’

‘Because I don’t need to.’ She gave a shake of her head, red hair silkily vibrant. ‘I’ve said no. Several times. As James Stephens has obviously informed you.’

Nik Prince once again sat forward in his chair, seeming to fill the whole of Jinx’s vision now. ‘What are you so afraid of, Jinx? Maybe if you tell me that—’

‘You’ll give up on the idea for the film and just go away?’ she scorned.

‘Well, no…I couldn’t exactly say that,’ he conceded wryly.

‘I thought not,’ she rasped.

‘But I might be able to understand your stubborn refusal a little more,’ he continued.

‘Really?’ Jinx gave a disbelieving snort. ‘And why do you imagine that I need your understanding?’

He drew in a harsh breath, his expression grim now, eyes narrowed, lips thinned. ‘Right now, taking your paranoia into account, what you need is my silence, young lady,’ he rapped. ‘Let’s go from there, shall we?’

‘Are you threatening me, Mr Prince?’ she said slowly, replacing her cup and saucer back on the table.

‘No, I’m—’ He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘No, Jinx, I’m not threatening you—’

‘It certainly sounded as if you were.’ She met his gaze unflinchingly.

Nik gave a sigh of obvious frustration. ‘I didn’t ask for this meeting with you today in order to argue with you—’

‘You didn’t ask for this meeting at all, Mr Prince—you demanded it,’ she reminded him forcefully. ‘And you did it with the belief that you had the leverage to talk me into allowing you to purchase the film rights of No Ordinary Boy. So how do you think you’re doing so far?’

‘Badly,’ he conceded heavily.

‘Very badly,’ she confirmed.

‘That’s because you—’ He broke off, staring at her impatiently. ‘Jinx, what do you have against the movie being made?’

‘By you?’ she delayed.

‘By anyone.’

How astute of him to realize that her stubbornness really wasn’t personal, that she would have been just as adamant in her refusal concerning the approach of any film company.

Although she had to say, since meeting Nik Prince, her determination had grown where he was concerned.

Because she recognized his powerful force? Because she knew he wasn’t a man who took no for an answer? Or was it simply that the fierce attraction she felt towards him, from that first moment of meeting him at Susan and Leo’s, made her doubly wary?

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt attracted to any man, let alone one as forcefully compelling as Nik Prince. She had a good idea where such an attraction could lead if she allowed it to. Which was why she was determined to hold this man, in particular, completely at arm’s length.

‘Jinx?’

She looked across at him, frowning as she tried to remember what his last question had been. ‘Have you read No Ordinary Boy?’

His expression darkened. ‘Well, of course I’ve read it! The whole damn world has read it—’

‘I think that’s somewhat of an exaggeration,’ she scoffed.

‘It’s been published in over ninety countries, in twenty-five languages—’

‘Having received one set of royalties already, I do have all that information,’ she cut in.

‘Then you must also realize that the majority of the people who have read the book believe that J. I. Watson is a man—’

‘As you did,’ she pointed out.

‘As I did,’ he agreed. ‘The book is about a twelve-year-old boy confined to a wheelchair who suddenly discovers he has super mental abilities—’

‘I know what the book’s about, thank you! But you think me incapable of imagining being a twelve-year-old boy?’ she challenged, her unease increasing if that should prove to be the case.

That silver gaze swept over her with slow deliberation, lingering on the curve of her breasts in the cream silk blouse, before moving down the slender length of her legs in fitted black trousers.