Princess Australia

As much as she liked his chivalry, she didn’t need an international incident on her hotel’s doorstep. Besides, Clay wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth anything as far as she was concerned.

Not any more.

‘First you don’t apologise, now you’re threatening the lady? Who the hell do you think you are?’

Dante had shrugged off her restraining hand and now stood in Clay’s face, while Natasha struggled between leaping on Dante’s back to distract him and slugging Clay herself.

‘I was the fool who was going to marry her,’ Clay said, casting one last malevolent glare her way before turning on his heel and walking off.

Clay’s cowardice shouldn’t have surprised her. Nothing about him surprised her, considering what he’d put her through, what he’d put her whole family through.

Dante turned to face her, incredulity lending his handsome face a comical look. ‘You were engaged to that slime?’

‘Don’t remind me.’

She held up her hand as if trying to ward off any further talk of Clay. Needless to say, a smart guy like Dante didn’t buy it for a second.

‘You can do so much better than him.’

Dante spoke softly, his blue eyes warm, a tentative smile flirting around his mouth as he reached out and captured both her hands.

Natasha had expected him to interrogate her, to question her lousy judgement, to do any number of things apart from what he was doing now—holding her hands with a gentle tenderness that brought a lump to her throat.

She stared at their linked hands, enjoying the solid warmth they provided, a comfort which she’d never got from the few times Clay would deign to be touched in public.

Reality check—the guy is a prince. A prince you need to save your business. A prince who needs his identity protected, yet here you are getting all mushy with him out the front of your hotel.

Disengaging her hands from his, she folded her arms over her chest. ‘So what was the urgent business?’ And what on earth was all that amazing kissing about?

Though she wisely kept that question to herself for now. She needed to reassemble her wits before she tackled him over his lip-lock, considering her resistance was at an all-time low following his whole knight-in-shining-armour impersonation.

‘That idiot was following me. He called out “prince” several times but I ignored him. I wanted you to meet me out the front so you could pretend to be my girlfriend and throw him off the track.’

He had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I didn’t know he was your ex. I’m sorry about that.’

Okay, so that explained his over-zealous welcome when he’d first seen her outside the hotel. But darn it, his kisses had seemed so real…

Giving herself a mental shake, Natasha tilted her chin up and glared at Dante. ‘Pretty stupid plan.’

He shrugged, looking more adorable than guilty or apologetic with that sexy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment. I can’t let anyone know who I am. You know that, it’s too important to me.’

Natasha stifled a snort. Too important to his floozy, more like.

‘When I gave you my number for emergencies, I didn’t expect…’ She trailed off, not wanting to bring up the sizzling kisses, knowing it couldn’t be ignored. ‘This,’ she finished lamely, waving a hand between the two of them.

‘You mean the way I kissed you?’

With a glint in his eyes, his gaze dropped to her lips, which tingled at the memory of his wonderful technique, how he’d made her forget every worry she had.

‘Yes, that.’

Heat seeped into her cheeks, scorching with embarrassment. It wasn’t so much the fact he’d kissed her but how she’d responded, like a woman who enjoyed it. Way too much. And she had an awful suspicion he knew that.

‘Like I said, a spur of the moment thing, an impulse,’ he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. ‘I apologise if it wasn’t right.’

‘Oh, no, it was fine,’ she blurted, before clamping her lips shut in horror.

He’d meant it wasn’t the right thing to do; she’d responded about his technique. Could the ground just open up and swallow her now—please?

Thankfully, he didn’t call her on her monstrous gaff. He just stood there, looking way too sexy with his smile, his tousled hair and those gorgeous blue eyes sparkling with humour.

‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ he said, giving her another of those quaint little bows that must have been standard for royalty in Calida. ‘Shall we retire?’

Natasha nodded and managed a sedate ‘Uh-huh,’ before she made a total ass of herself and took his question as an invitation to go up to his room and tuck his royal pain-in-the-butt in.

As they entered the elaborate lobby, and she caught site of herself in the huge ornate mirrors lining the pillars, Natasha stifled a groan. Grey sweatpants, a pale blue hoodie and navy beaded flip-flops did little to accentuate her make-upless face and wet ponytail.

She looked like a bedraggled waif next to a tanned god, and for a split second chastised herself for wishing things were different, annoyed that she cared.

Forgetting his royal status, she wondered what would it be like to stroll into a hotel with a guy like Dante by her side? A guy who protected his woman, a guy who looked like every woman’s walking talking fantasy, a guy who could kiss like the prince in a fairy tale?

‘In your dreams!’ she muttered, grateful when the lifts came into sight.

‘Pardon?’

She forced a tight smile. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Sleep well,’ Dante murmured, planting a quick kiss on her cheek before she could move. ‘And thank you once again.’

Natasha whirled on her heel and entered the lift for the apartments, her cheek tingling, her emotions in turmoil. She waited till she heard the zing of the lift for the hotel before turning around, hitting the button for her own floor and sinking against the side wall, grateful for the support.

She needed it. With her head spinning from encountering Clay, kissing Dante and the pathetic way she’d tied herself up in knots, she was a mess.

Definitely time for that choc-fudge ice-cream. Though, after the last half hour she’d had, nothing less than the tub would do now.

CHAPTER FIVE

DANTE shrugged out of his leather jacket, tossed it on the bed and headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower, a cold punishing shower, considering what he’d just done.

You didn’t play fair, he muttered to his unshaven reflection in the huge mirror above an equally large marble basin as he braced himself against it.

Then again, who’d said anything about playing?

Adjusting the mixer, he splashed icy water on his face and dabbed it with a baby-soft towel which smelt like freshly squeezed lemons. Only the best for Telford Towers. And that extended to its stunning stand-in concierge who took her job to extremes.

He shouldn’t have kissed Natasha.

He knew that.