The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит
you get it, anyway?”
“My secretary arranged it. Ask him.”
Lexie gave up trying to either soothe or bait him and looked out her window at the city and then countryside sliding by. Gone. Soon she’d be gone from here and the narrow confines of her life.
As the estate gates closed behind them, he pulled off the driveway into a wooded area. The house was still half a mile away.
“Why are we stopping here?”
“Because if I don’t stop till we’re in front of the house someone will doubtless come out and find me with my hands wrapped around your neck. And while I’m sure whoever it is will sympathize with me, it’d still be frowned upon, bound to cause a diplomatic fracas. And worse, I’ll be interrupted.”
He’d had a hand around the back of her neck once four years ago as he’d kissed her senseless. Which was not what she should be remembering now. She called up righteous anger. “You’re assuming you’ll get the chance to wrap your hands around my neck. If you’d read my background information—” which of course the Playboy Prince wouldn’t have “—you’d know I have a black belt in karate. Second dan.” She was tired of him thinking he could push her around. “Perhaps it’d be my hands around your neck.”
Unfortunately, a contrary image sprang to mind of the two of them in the car with their hands all over each other in a very different way. Shocked at herself, she banished the image. It had only happened because he reminded her of Adam and they were confined in the intimacy of his car, faces and bodies close, emotions running high. The scent of his cologne, masculine and appealing, wasn’t helping, either.
He laughed, low and deep. “I did read the information. My secretary handed it to me as I boarded the jet, and unfortunately there was nothing else on board to read. It mentioned years of ballet dancing, sailing and show jumping to a nationally competitive level, and musical accomplishments including flute and, rather more surprising, the saxophone. Sadly, they must have left off the karate. Though it’s entirely possible that the ballet training will help in the execution of a passable roundhouse kick.”
Lexie knew when to quit. He clearly wasn’t going to fall for that one. Even if she had learned karate. Once. A long time ago. A secret rebellion cut short.
He turned off the engine. And though she’d scarcely heard the car’s low purr before, the silence of the night settled over them like a heavy, uncomfortable blanket.
Now it was just her and Rafe.
He turned, filling the space in the suddenly too-small car from floor to ceiling, his presence surrounding her. Just enough light washed in from the closest of the lamps dotted along the driveway to make out his features, the dark brows drawn together, the strong nose, surprisingly full lips and the stubborn, stubborn jaw. And the eyes that raked disrespectfully over her. Adam would never have looked at her like that.
“Your headache is better, I take it?”
“Much, thank you.” She chose to ignore the drawled sarcasm. And the lie of her fabricated illness.
“You often pull stunts like that, Precious?”
“I don’t pull stunts. I wanted to go out tonight. I wanted to dance. There’s no crime in it.”
“It was a stunt. And it was stupid.”
“It was not stupid. I was careful. I took Mario with me.” Her life was about to change; all she’d wanted was one night of anonymity. It wasn’t so much to ask. She’d been to the nightclub before. Many times. And in all that time she’d never been recognized.
“And look what happened.”
“Nothing happened.” He’d said himself they wouldn’t turn up in those shots.
“Do you have any idea—Damn.” He sat back in his seat.
“What?”
“I sound like my father.” His hand clenched into a fist. “I can’t believe it.”
That concept apparently bothered him almost as much as the nightclub debacle had because he lapsed into silence. “How did you know I was at the nightclub?” she asked. “Did you follow me?”
“No. A happy coincidence.”
“Not my definition of happy.” At that he smiled. “So you were there, too,” she accused, “for the same reason as me, and yet I’m the one in the wrong?”
“I’m not the one who left dinner early because—” he touched blunt fingertips to his temple and blinked several times, a parody of a woman fluttering her eyelashes “—I had a headache.”
“I did have a headache. That dinner would have given a saint one. I never said what I was going to do about it. If you assumed I was retiring quietly to my bed, that’s not my fault.”
“If you want to be wife to the crown prince, you’re going to need a little more fortitude. It’ll be your job to stay at dinners like that till the bitter end. You weren’t the only one who wanted to leave that dinner tonight. Some of us managed to tough it out.”
“That’s it?” She smiled with a sudden flash of insight. “You’re sore that I got to leave earlier than you?”
“That’s not what I said. The problem wasn’t with you leaving the dinner, headache or not. It lies more in you out with other men, dancing the way you were.”
“There was nothing wrong with the way I danced.”
“No? Every man in the place enjoyed it.”
She felt the stab of his criticism. “You are being so unfair.”
Rafe turned back to stare out the windshield. “Maybe. But you need to learn how very important appearances are. How very seriously people—like Adam—take them.”
The worst of it was that he was right. She’d been brought up to always consider how anything she did, said, wore might look. Her mother was as hyperaware of appearances as anyone Lexie had ever met. Which made her occasional forays to the nightclub so liberating. So exhilarating.
She hadn’t planned on Adam ever knowing. “It might have been my last chance,” she said quietly, leaning back in her seat, and that was the truth of it.
“You’re right about that. But no one’s forcing you to come to San Philippe.”
She said nothing.
“Are they?”
She met his steady gaze. “No.” This was her choice. She’d dreamed of it for so long.
“This arrangement is far from a done deal, Alexia,” he said quietly. “I’ll be watching you, and if I find out you’re using Adam, that on your side the relationship is a pretence, I’ll hustle your duplicitous derriere back home so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
“Duplicitous derriere sounds so much better than my lying ass. Or hypocrite.” She gave the last word emphasis because it could apply just as well to him. “You won’t catch me out because there’s nothing to catch me out in.” She turned to stare out the window at the darker silhouettes of trees shadowing the night. “How sweet for Adam to have you coming to his assistance.”
“Adam doesn’t know women the way I do.”
“I wouldn’t choose to have any kind of a relationship with him if he did.” Adam was serious and constant as well as kind. Nothing like the man sitting a hand span away from her radiating cynicism and testosterone.
“He doesn’t look for subterfuge.”
“But you do?” She almost felt sorry for him. “Must make for interesting relationships for you. Ever heard of trust?”
“All I’m saying is that if Adam and San Philippe are what you really want, don’t screw it up.”