Searching For Her Prince. Karen Rose Smith
dining room door closed behind them, Brent took her hand and secured it in the crook of his arm. “To keep you steady,” he said with a wink.
The fine material of his suit was smooth under her fingers, and she could feel his muscled strength underneath.
When they stepped into the elevator and the doors swooshed shut, intimacy seemed to surround them. She peeked up at Brent and saw he was gazing down at her.
“What floor?” he asked, his voice deep and low.
“Twelve,” she answered. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and her heart was beating much too fast.
When the elevator stopped on the twelfth floor, they stepped out onto plush wine carpeting. They passed marble-topped mahogany credenzas, Victorian-style velvet-covered chairs and arrangements created from fresh flowers.
Amira pointed out her room number. “Would you like to come in?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt flustered, not knowing why she’d asked him. Somehow it had just seemed the polite thing to do!
Brent hesitated. “Just for a few moments.” Then he took the key card from her hand and unlocked her door. Opening it, he let her precede him inside. She was close enough to him to smell his cologne, to see the scar on the right side of his brow, to know that being alone with him in her room had been a foolish decision to make.
The small foyer led into a large room with a king-size bed, dresser and chest on one side, and a sitting area with a love seat, chair and entertainment center on the other. A maid had obviously cleaned the room and made the bed, but Amira’s pink-and-green-satin nightgown lay folded on the side of the bed so she wouldn’t have to look far for it.
Brent’s gaze seemed riveted to the satin garment and the king-size bed. “You do know, Amira, it’s not a good idea to invite strange men into your room.”
“I’ve never done it before.” Her experience with men was indeed limited. At seventeen she’d thought she’d been in love with the gardener, but after an uncomfortable groping session, she’d realized he was only concerned with getting her into bed. That had been her only “intimate” experience with a man.
Now Brent was looking down at her with a flare of heat in his eyes that seemed to consume her. Everything disappeared except Brent Carpenter and the longing inside her. He lowered his head very slowly. Then his lips covered hers and his arms enfolded her in an exciting embrace.
Swept away. Now Amira knew what the phrase meant. Nothing but his kiss mattered. The taut heat of him, the trace of his cologne lingering at the end of the day and his musky male scent brought to her mind visions of both of them naked, sharing a bed. Passion she’d dreamed about, but never known seemed within her reach.
Instinctively her arms moved up to circle his neck, and he pulled her tighter against him. The amazing maleness of his body almost shocked her, but the shock gave way to pure pleasure as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips, coaxing them apart.
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, and he seemed to sense that because he murmured, “Open your mouth to me.”
She didn’t even think of denying his husky command. She wanted to know more about desire, more about becoming a woman, more about Brent. Something inside whispered that this man could teach her everything.
The tantalizing invasion of his tongue sent her senses reeling. Licks of fire seemed to reach deep into the center of her, and she became frightened by it, frightened by her reaction to him. She’d never met a man this sensual or this compelling.
Suddenly her hands were on his chest and she was pushing away. “I can’t,” she said as she looked up and saw the deep desire intensifying the green of his eyes.
What would he do? Would he be angry? He was in her room. What would her mother think about her daughter having a meal with a stranger and sharing a kiss before she really even knew the man? What would the queen think? Had she put herself in harm’s way? Would her life be irrevocably changed?
She stood frozen with the fear of everything that could happen.
Brent must have seen it. “It’s okay, Amira. It’s okay,” he soothed again. “We both just got carried away.”
For the first time in her life she’d followed her instincts without propriety guiding her, and her instincts had been right. Brent wasn’t the type of man to force his attentions on a woman. “I…I shouldn’t have asked you in. It’s not…proper.”
A wry smile curved his lips. “Being proper is important to you, isn’t it?”
She just nodded and managed to say, “It’s the way I was raised.”
Although he released her, as if he couldn’t help himself, he touched the back of his hand gently to her cheek. “I never met a true lady before.” He dropped his hand to his side. “I’d better leave.” Then he crossed to the door quickly and opened it.
She stayed where she was, knowing she couldn’t chase after him, knowing she couldn’t ask him to stay. “Thank you again for dinner.”
“My pleasure,” he said without smiling, and then he was gone.
After the heavy door closed with a click, Amira ran to it and secured the safety lock, sure that Brent Carpenter considered her the most naive woman he’d ever met…sure that she’d never see him again.
Chapter Two
T hree loud raps on Amira’s hotel room door awakened her. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she noted it was 8:00 a.m. She’d slept through the night again in a strange place! Maybe she’d left her nightmares in Penwyck. Maybe the news her mother had given her before she’d left—that her father’s assassin was dead—had freed her.
There was another rap at the door.
Thinking the maid wanted to clean her room, she slid from the bed, pushed her hair from her eyes and grabbed her robe on the bedside chair. Slipping on the pink-and-green, flowered-satin garment, she quickly belted it.
When she looked out the peephole of the door, she blinked twice. It was Brent! With a room service table.
Opening the door, she couldn’t keep from smiling or hide the breathlessness in her voice. “This is a surprise.”
His grin was crooked and boyish. “It’s a strategic move on my part to make sure you eat more than two crackers and tea. I don’t want you fainting into another man’s arms.”
She knew he was teasing, but there was a serious glint in his green eyes, too. She was about to invite him in when she realized she was wearing her nightgown and robe. “Oh, I can’t. I mean—”
Ignoring her reticence, he pushed the table inside. “You don’t even have to tip me,” he went on as if she hadn’t interrupted.
Thoroughly flustered, unable to take her gaze from his broad shoulders, collarless blue shirt and his long jeans-clad legs, she stammered, “I…I have to dress.”
Rolling the table to the sitting area, he set the covered platters on the coffee table. “You look fetching as you are. You don’t have time to dress. The eggs and bacon will get cold, and don’t tell me you don’t eat bacon and eggs, because your figure doesn’t need watching.”
His appraising gaze raked over her, and she blushed to her toes.
With a chuckle he caught her hand and tugged her to the love seat. “Come on. I know you’re a proper lady. I won’t do anything improper. I promise.”
His smile was so beguiling, his manner so offhandedly friendly, she couldn’t resist. Missing her family and friends, she felt alone in a foreign land and she enjoyed Brent’s company. More than enjoyed it.
Uncovering both their platters, he set the lids aside and settled his gaze on her. For a few moments he simply studied her with such intensity that she couldn’t look away.
Finally