Page 18 of Incognito

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After slipping into black denim hipsters, a funky red top, and pulling her hair free of its constricting chignon she usually wore for work, Natasha barely had time to run a brush through her kinky hair and slick gloss over her lips before rushing out to meet Dante.

“Hey, where’s the fire? Or more to the point, where’s the fireman?” Ella wolf-whistled as the lift doors slid open and Natasha all but tumbled in.

“I’ve got a meeting,” Natasha said, avoiding Ella’s inquisitive stare as she smoothed her hair in the mirror over the lift buttons.

“With anyone I know?” Ella’s silky tone told Natasha her best friend knew exactly who she was meeting.

“Dante and I have some business to discuss.”

“I just bet you do.” Ella made childish puckering noises and Natasha rolled her eyes. “How’s it going with the bad boy formerly known as a prince?”

Natasha chuckled at her friend’s pun. “Not bad. He’s actually an okay guy.”

“I know.” Ella fanned her face. “I saw him in the lobby today. And let me tell you, okay doesn’t begin to describe that guy.”

“He is pretty hot, isn’t he?”

She could admit the obvious without letting the fact turn her head.

“Hot?” Ella’s voice shot up five octaves. “The guy is drop dead gorgeous. Pity about the royal spoon up his butt because he’d be perfect for you.”

“What makes you say that?”

Ella knew she’d been through hell with Clay, though she didn’t know the half of it or why Natasha so desperately needed Dante’s co-operation. Ella knew she rarely dated and how she’d totally lost trust in guys. So what made her think some prince she barely knew would be perfect for her?

“Oh… just his reaction after something I said.” Ella studied her chipped fingernails at arms length, trying to stifle a cheeky grin and losing.

“What did you do?”

Natasha’s heart sank to the soles of her high-heeled black boots. Though she loved Ella dearly, subtlety wasn’t one of her friend’s strong suits. And if she’d said something to Dante… yikes.

“I didn’t do anything.” Ella widened her blue eyes, aiming for guileless and failing miserably.

“Ella, tell me.”

“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands like she had nothing to hide. “All I did was ask him if he’d seen the concierge because I needed to ask you something, and he got this goofy look on his face when he glanced over at your desk. That’s it, I swear.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Stay out of this, El,” Natasha said, as the lift slid to a smooth stop and the steel doors opened.

“I mean it,” she added, as Ella opened her mouth to respond.

“Spoilsport,” Ella muttered, as she brushed past her, twirling to a stop when they exited the lift, waiting for the doors to closeon a large group of Japanese tourists before tapping her cheek lightly. “Enjoy yourmeeting.”

Natasha resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at Ella’s retreating back. Her usually pragmatic friend must be imagining things. A poised prince didn’t do goofy expressions. Especially not after the way he reacted following her proposal this morning when she’d suggested he help her with promoting the hotel.

His frigid expression had been pure royal, a cold reaction used to snub people who didn’t please him and totally at odds with his casual appearance.

He may be trying to play down his royal blood for the week, with laid back clothes and ruffled hair, but she knew better. Guys like him were used to being obeyed, used to things going their way, and he hadn’t liked being trumped by an upstart like her.

What did he think, she’d help him purely out of the goodness of her heart?

Yeah, right. She’d tried that once before and look where it had landed her: neck-deep in financial trouble.

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