Kathryn Jensen – Mail-Order Prince In Her Bed (страница 2)

“But Signorina McPherson, it is my pleasure,” he said aloud, giving her a conspiratorial wink. He placed a hand at the hollow of her slim back and guided her firmly toward the door. She wore a conservative sweaterlike dress of a synthetic fiber—black, a bit scratchy to the touch.

He imagined her in cashmere, perhaps a soft blue to set off her eyes. Much better.

Tamara finally found her feet and rushed to catch up with them. She handed Maria her purse, coat and a card. “Have fun, honey. This will explain the services your date is prepared to offer. Be sure to let us know all the details tomorrow.”

Maria blushed a bright pink, snatched at her things and didn’t look back as she allowed Antonio to escort her out of the office to a chorus of cheers and hoots.

“Would you like my driver to help you carry anything else down?” he asked, allowing the exaggerated accent to fade.

“Ah, no…this is fine,” she said, tightly. “Let’s just get on the elevator and I’ll explain everything to you.”

“Certainly.” He let her step on ahead of him, admiring the view from behind. Yes, cashmere would suit her. She had an elegant figure. She just didn’t know how to dress. Or perhaps she couldn’t afford quality clothing.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, Maria faced him. “Listen, I know this is your job, but you can drop the phony aristocratic act now. They were just trying to embarrass me. You’ve done your job.” Her chin lifted and cool mist-gray eyes darkened as if it took a great deal of courage for her to speak. And now she seemed to be struggling to hold eye contact with him. “I don’t know what else you have been paid to do, but you can forget it. I don’t date strange men. I have no interest in a romantic…adventure,” she finished at last, looking flustered.

“You have other plans for the celebration of your birthday?” Antonio asked. “A party with your family?”

“No.” She laughed as if uncomfortable that he was prolonging the conversation. “No party. I’m going home. I expect I’ll enjoy my afternoon off with a good book and a hot bath.”

He raised a questioning brow. “Alone?”

“Yes, alone!” she gasped, sounding short of breath. “What kind of woman do you take me for?”

“A lovely, intelligent, sensitive one,” he said simply. He wasn’t trying to flatter her; he was being perfectly honest.

After a moment, the young woman apparently realized her mouth was resting open and she brought her lips tightly together. She scowled at him. “Who are you, and how do I turn off the Latin-lover act?”

He refused to be offended. After all, the poor thing must be confused by all that had happened in the past twenty minutes.

“My name is Antonio Boniface, Il Principe di Carovigno,” he explained solemnly. “I only wish to save you further harassment from your friends. And, by the way, I am an Italian citizen, not a Latin lover, as you say, and I—”

“Listen, you,” she interrupted with surprising force, “I know you were hired to do a job. What do you need to prove you’ve done it? A signed receipt? A customer satisfaction form filled out? Just give it to me now, and I’ll sign—oh my!”

They had stepped out from the lobby of the building onto Connecticut Avenue and stood on the sidewalk beside a sleek, ebony limousine. Antonio’s driver had positioned himself beside the rear passenger door. He swung it open, the snappy brim of his uniform cap inclined politely toward Maria.

She swallowed and turned to Antonio, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide and glistening with childlike amazement. “Tell me this isn’t part of the package.”

“It’s part of the package, as you put it,” he said with a shrug. He always engaged a car and driver when he traveled in unfamiliar cities. At home, he preferred to drive himself in the Ferrari. There he knew the twisting coastal roads intimately and enjoyed controlling the powerful vehicle.

“Oh, jeez,” she breathed. “I’ve never ridden in a real limo before.”

He smiled, charmed by her innocence.

“Let me at least transport you home,” he offered gently. “I would like to explain something to you on the way.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know…maybe we should just call it quits now and—”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he murmured, reaching out to take her hand again.

She nearly pulled away, then followed his gaze upward to the windows of the offices above. Rows of faces stared down at them.

“Do you want your friends to know that you’ve…what is the expression? Got chicken feet?”

She laughed, all the tension draining from her face. “You mean, I’ve chickened out…or I’ve gotten cold feet. No, I certainly don’t want to give them that satisfaction.” She shot one final grim look above them, then allowed Antonio to help her into the rear seat. Sliding across the smooth leather to give him room, she called out to the driver, “I live in Bethesda, Maryland, 755 Mullen Street. If you’ll drop me off, I’ll be most grateful.”

He closed the door behind them, then walked around the car.

“Your driver does know where Bethesda is?” Maria asked.

“I’m sure he does. I hope it’s a long ride. I have a lot to explain, Miss McPherson.” Antonio smiled. He watched as her glance followed the motion of his lips.

She sighed then shook her head as if denying herself a particularly fattening dessert. “Oh my, you’re awfully good. Listen, you’re a very nice looking man, handsome really. And you play your role well. But I’m just not interested in your kind of…service.”

She gave an almost imperceptible shiver of pleasure as she slipped the card Tamara had given her, unread, into her coat pocket. Her upper lip had become lightly beaded with perspiration, and her eyes were too bright. He was pretty sure she didn’t even realize the signals her body was giving off.

“Maybe it would be best if we just pulled around the block and you let me off there. I can take the bus home like I usually do.”

“No,” he said bluntly.

“No?” She looked alarmed now.

“On second thought,” he said slowly, “I believe you deserve a real celebration. Do you have friends you’d like to invite to come along?” He could explain all about Marco, Immigration and his real identity after she’d calmed down a bit.

“Friends? No, not really. I mean, I have college friends, but they’re back in Connecticut where I grew up. And the people I work with—” She shrugged as if unable to put her thoughts into words.

“They aren’t like you,” he supplied softly.

“No,” she murmured, “they aren’t like me. Take today, for instance. They get a kick out of singling out a person on their birthday and finding the most effective way to embarrass them. Tailored humiliation, I call it. I tried to take the day off, like I did last year when I’d just started working for the company, but my boss insisted she needed me.” She sighed. “It’s all in good fun, I suppose. But I’ve never liked being the center of attention.”

He nodded, intrigued by her lack of ego. So unlike the women he’d known.

“So we shall celebrate quietly, just the two of us. Si?” His flight didn’t leave until the next morning. He rarely allowed himself time away from the groves or the mill and factory. Spending an afternoon with an attractive American woman wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. Besides, after handling the Marco catastrophe, he deserved a little vacanza.

She laughed and rolled her pretty gray eyes dramatically at him. “The two of us? Alone? Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Why not? A pretty woman like you deserves at least to be treated to a delicious meal in a gracious setting on her special day. Why wouldn’t you allow yourself this simple pleasure?”

She gave a little growl of frustration from deep within her throat. To him it sounded delightfully sexy. “It does sound awfully tempting. I can’t remember the last meal I ate out that wasn’t fast food.” Good, she was at least debating her decision. “This is already paid for, right? I mean, you’re not going to hand me the check at the end of the meal, are you?”

He laughed. How fresh, how entertaining she was!

He had fully intended to explain about Marco, then leave her at her door. Just spiriting her off in the limo might have been enough to satisfy her work friends. But he sensed that if he took her home now, when she was questioned the next day she wouldn’t lie. She would admit that she’d let her hired prince leave, then they would all feel gratified that they had sufficiently shamed her.

However, if he actually romanced her for the day, in the most innocent of ways, of course, she’d at least have a great story to tell. She’d come out the winner.

He liked that idea. She seemed such a nice person. He wanted to give her as much armor as possible against their obnoxious teasing.

Maria wrapped her arms around her body and pressed tense shoulder blades into the buttery leather cushions of the limousine. Beyond the tinted windows, the Washington cityscape passed. The famous cherry trees hadn’t yet blossomed, but they were heavy with pink buds in the late morning light.

She felt awkward, out of her element. Her stomach was doing flip-flops because of her excitement. She didn’t know where to put her hands, where to look…or not look. One minute her glance settled on her companion’s sensuous mouth as he spoke, the next her eyes drifted to his wide, strong hands, resting on the elegant gray wool encasing his thighs.