‘I guess so,’ he said.
She walked back around the desk, sat behind it, and steepled her fingers in front of her, but he could see her hands trembling and guessed she wasn’t quite as composed as she was making out.
Well, good. Because neither was he. Somehow, though, she’d turned the tables on him and he didn’t know how the hell she’d done it.
‘Come in, Mel,’ she called out when the knock sounded again. A young woman in a dark suit walked in pushing a silver carriage loaded with fancy china and set it up on the bureau at the back of the room.
‘I hope you’ll stay for coffee, Mr Lord,’ the Queen said, polite as you please, which annoyed him more.
So, they were back to the formal. And that reserved shield of polite indifference. They were definitely going to have to work on that, once they were doing their loved-up act for the cameras. The thought of more kissing practice had adrenaline surging through his veins.
He thrust his fists further into his pockets as he watched Mel smile and leave the room. ‘I need to head to the airport. But I’ll be back in a couple of weeks with my surveyors,’ he said. ‘And the construction boss to do the initial surveys. If we can get the paperwork handled by then, let’s arrange a time and place to make goo-goo eyes at each other and practise our lip action for the cameras.’
‘Of... Of course,’ she said, looking a little less sure of herself.
He smiled.
My work here is done.
‘See you around, Belle,’ he said, then strode out.
But as he headed back through the stateroom towards his waiting car, the feel of her mouth under his, and the vivid memory of that sweet sob of shocked arousal before her lips had softened and accepted his kiss, echoed uncomfortably in his groin.
And he couldn’t help wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into...
CHAPTER FOUR
Back in Androvia TMW, checking out Ridge. Meet me @ 2 @ top & tip off press 4 pix.
T
ISABELLEREREADTHEmessage she had received on her private mobile phone yesterday, for about the ten thousandth time. She’d had to get Mel to translate it for her—because she had never received a text written in code before in her entire life. Luckily, her assistant was also her best friend and confidante, and knew about Isabelle’s cunning plan to arrange a marriage with Travis Lord—and therefore release her from the strictures of her father’s trust.
‘How am I supposed to tip off the press?’ Isabelle murmured. ‘The only conversations I’ve ever had with them have been in press conferences. It’s not as if I have the paparazzi on speed dial.’
Mel walked out of the dressing room with Isabelle’s ski suit. ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll have a word with Hans in PR. He knows some local photographers. If he tells them you’ll be skiing on the ridge this afternoon, they’ll stake out Sariyelva,’ she said, mentioning the picturesque town nestled at the bottom of the White Ridge gorge. ‘Once they have photos of you with Lord, they’ll be able to sell them to the highest bidder worldwide,’ Mel added as she laid out the suit. ‘It’ll be a great boost to the local economy. Just make sure you end up there after your meet-up,’ she finished with a quick grin.
Isabelle scowled. ‘Easier said than done. I suspect directing Travis Lord to do anything is going to be like trying to herd a cat. A very big cat,’ she added, barely able to contain a shudder at the thought of all those muscles.
She already knew he was going to look annoyingly magnificent in his skiwear. Because she’d seen photos of him modelling the Lord Culture brand. She tugged on her thermal undergarments. The silk felt like sandpaper against her oversensitive skin.
When exactly was her bizarre reaction to him going to end? She pursed her lips, aware of the tingling sensations that had tormented her for two weeks. She’d even had dreams about his kiss. Hisstuntkiss.
‘Just remember, you’re a queen, he’s a commoner,’ Mel said, giving her a confident smile. ‘Dazzle him with your authority.’
‘Believe me, Travis Lord is not a man who can be dazzled by anyone’s authority but his own,’ she said. And certainly not by someone with as little experience as she had of men. ‘I got the definite impression he was more disdainful of my position than dazzled by it.’
‘Then kiss him—and dazzle him with that instead.’
‘What?’ Isabelle swallowed heavily, the buzz on her lips joined by the hum at her core, which had plagued her at night, too.
‘Do I need to kiss him?’Again.‘Won’t being seen with him be enough?’ She didn’t want another fortnight of disturbed sleep, thank you very much. It was just over two months until Christmas—which meant her schedule was packed with official engagements already, because Androvia, with its array of Christmas markets and winter activities, was a luxury tourist destination for the festive season. One of her responsibilities as Androvia’s sovereign was to promote that to the best of her ability.
Mel laughed, counting the reasons on her fingers. ‘Firstly, you want to give the photographers an exclusive they can sell, and, believe me, a clandestine kiss will fit that brief perfectly, especially as you’ve never been caught kissing a man on camera.’
‘Perhaps because I’ve never kissed any man on or off camera before I met Mr Lord,’ Isabelle protested, then winced, realising how gauche that sounded.
No wonder her one stunt kiss with Travis Lord had had a far greater impact on her than it should. She was a complete novice. And how sad was that for a woman in her early twenties? But after acceding to the throne as an eight-year-old, she had not been afforded the romantic opportunities other girls took for granted.