Married for the Prince's Convenience

She glanced from his hand to his yacht. He held his breath. Slowly, she reached out. His grip tightened on her fingers as he stepped out of the car and helped her out. He’d taken two steps when he felt her tug at his grip.

‘Wait. I can’t do this.’

Disappointment curled through him. Reyes bit back a sharp retort as he dropped her hand. In the time since his last liaison, the world hadn’t changed, then, he mused caustically. Women continued to tease, to engage in sexual games in the hope that playing hard to get would make them seem more attractive to the opposite sex. The bitterness he’d tried to douse welled up again.

‘Save the excuses, Miss Nichols. I’m disappointed that women seem to believe creating intrigue involves mind games, but I am not willing to indulge you.’ He nodded to his driver, who stepped forward. ‘You’ll be delivered to your hotel. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Rio.’ He couldn’t stem the regret that settled gut-deep inside him. Not to mention the uncomfortable arousal that tightened his groin and made thinking straight difficult.

He turned away, wanting to be far away from her, from the temptation of her voluptuous body and seductive scent that insisted on lingering in the air around him.

‘Actually, that’s not what I want.’ She sounded hurt and a little confused. ‘I didn’t mean that I’d changed my mind about the drink.’

He whirled round. ‘Then what did you mean, Jasmine?’

An uneasy look crossed her face. ‘I told you, I don’t really like boats. But I thought I’d make an exception...just this once...’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’m not coming aboard wearing these shoes.’ She gestured to her feet.

Puzzled, he frowned. ‘What?’

‘My step—umm, I read somewhere that heels and boats aren’t a good combination.’ Her shrug drew his attention to the silky curve of her shoulder. ‘Of course, I don’t know what sort of flooring you have on your yacht, but I don’t want to ruin it.’

Laughter replaced Reyes’s disappointment. It rumbled through his chest, a sensation he hadn’t felt for a while.

‘My floors? You don’t want to ruin the floors on my boat?’ His incredulity grew with his words and he barely stopped himself from shaking his head.

‘No, I don’t. Plus, my feet are seriously killing me. So if you don’t mind?’ She held out her hand for him to take. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

Caught in the surreal moment, Reyes took her hand. He felt the rough ridge of scarred tissue and looked at the thin line crossing her palm. About to ask what had caused it, he was stalled by the sight of one graceful leg, lifted, one ankle strap unbuckled before the process was repeated with the other shoe.

His gaze dropped to her feet. They were small but perfectly formed with pink tips. The sight only aroused him further, tweaked his already dangerously heightened senses.

‘Good idea,’ he murmured inanely, his voice curiously hoarse.

She nodded and fell into step beside him. ‘I think it’s only fair to warn you, though, the last time I rode a dinghy, I ended up falling overboard. I hope you’ll rescue me if that happens again?’

A smile tugged at his lips. ‘As you can see, my boat is slightly bigger than your dinghy. It’ll take a lot of effort to accidentally go overboard. But be assured, I’ll come to your aid should the worst happen.’

‘Well, if you put it that way, then I have nothing to worry about,’ she said with a smile.

Reyes smiled, feeling less burdened than he had in a long time. He took her shoes as they approached the gangplank and followed her up the stairs onto the deck and through into the large, open salon. He watched her take in her surroundings, her mouth parting to inhale sharply at the opulence that embraced her.

Reyes had seen different reactions to his yacht, some openly covetous and some hidden behind careful indifference. Jasmine’s eyes widened in something close to childlike, uninhibited awe as she took in the polished wood panels, gold ornamentation and monogrammed accessories in royal Santo Sierran blue he’d commissioned for the vessel.

‘Wow!’ She turned full circle and found him watching her. A faint blush touched her cheeks and she walked over to the large sofa and perched on the edge. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to gush.’

‘A genuine reaction is better than artificial indifference.’ He walked over to her and placed her shoes next to her.

‘Seriously? Who would be indifferent to this?’ She waved her hand around the deck.

‘People with ulterior motives they prefer to hide?’ The last female on this boat had been Anaïs. She’d been in full playing-hard-to-get mode, which had swiftly crumbled when Reyes had threatened to walk away. Of course, she’d had other aces up her sleeve. ‘In my experience, people are rarely what they seem at first blush.’

‘Oh, right.’ Jasmine’s eyes darted to his and slid away, and she seemed lost for words. Her tongue darted out to lick the corner of her lip.

Reyes’s heart beat just that little bit faster. His fingers tightened as anticipation fizzed faster through his veins.

Her skin, creamy with the barest hint of tan, glowed under the soft lights of his deck. His fingers itched to touch, to caress. But he held back.

There would be time for that later. He had no doubt he was about to indulge in something he’d never indulged in before—a one-night stand; this could be nothing more than that—but he didn’t want to rush it.

Morning would come soon enough. The treaty would be signed. He would ensure Santo Sierra’s continued economic prosperity. And he would return to his father’s bedside to continue his vigil.

But for now... ‘I think it’s time for that drink, yes?’

* * *

Jasmine swallowed her relief as the heated look in Prince Reyes’s eyes abated. For a moment there, he’d looked as if he wanted to devour her where she stood.

And as much as that had sent a bolt of excitement through her, part of her had quailed at the look.

Hastily, she nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’

She watched him walk towards an extensive, gleaming wood-panelled bar. A steward approached, but he waved him away. Opening a chiller, he grabbed a bottle of wine and expertly uncorked it. Rounding the bar, he handed her a glass and indicated a row of low, luxurious sofas.

Taking the seat next to her, he lowered his long body into it, driving the breath straight out of her lungs.

‘What shall we drink to?’ he asked in a low, deep voice, his stare focused solely on her.

Jasmine’s mouth dried. ‘Um, how about congratulations on the progress you’ve made with the treaty so far?’ Talking about the treaty helped keep her grounded, reminded her why she was here.

His smile held more than a hint of pride. ‘Gracias.’

‘Did you achieve what you set out for?’

Against his usual guarded judgement he found himself sharing with her. ‘It was a long, hard battle, but we’re almost there. By this time tomorrow, a solid trade agreement will exist between our two kingdoms, something my people have needed for a long time.’

Jasmine’s heart thudded loudly in her ears. Her hands started to shake and she hastily put her glass down. Sensing him following the movement, she flexed her fingers and smoothed them over her dress.

‘You should be back there, then, at the museum, celebrating. Why did you leave early?’

‘I don’t like crowds,’ he declared. His eyes widened, as if he’d let something slip he hadn’t meant to. A moment later, his expression shuttered.

Something inside her softened. ‘I don’t like crowds, either.’

His head snapped up, his gaze searching hers. At her small smile, his tense jaw relaxed.

‘I mean, who does, aside from rock stars and, well, crowd lovers?’ she joked. She wasn’t making much sense, but at the moment Jasmine would’ve kept babbling just to keep that smile on his face.

A small, enigmatic smile twitched his lips before he took a sip of his wine. ‘So what brings you to Rio alone?’ he asked. ‘Carnival was last month.’

She forced herself not to tense. For a wild moment Jasmine wondered if he could see through her to the truth of her presence in his life.