Affairs of State

chapter Four

The daylight dazzled unpleasantly as Simon opened his eyes. He’d had to tug himself away from kissing Ariella, and the taste of her lingered on his tongue, forbidden and delicious. She looked unbearably beautiful, sitting there on the bank, her eyes dark with desire and the forgotten cuffs of her jeans darkening in the water.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I beg to differ.” His entire body growled at him to do a lot more with this lovely woman. He let his hand wander into her long, dark hair. “Mostly because I don’t think we had any choice.”

“You always have a choice.” One neat brow lifted slightly. He could feel her shrink back from him.

“Theoretically, I suppose. But some things are just irresistible.” Her raspberry-tinted lips were among those things, and he lowered his lips toward them again. But this time she hesitated. “Simon, I really don’t think this is sensible.”

“Why not?”

“Uh…because your grandmother would be horrified.”

“Nonsense.” He stroked her hair. She stiffened slightly, as if she wanted to resist, but he saw his own desire reflected in her eyes. “I’m sure she’d adore you.” He really didn’t want to think about the queen right now. He didn’t want to think about anyone but Ariella. He could deal with everyone else later.

Ariella shivered slightly, as anticipation rose in the air. If she didn’t want to kiss him she could have leapt to her feet and darted back to the car. But she hadn’t.

He waited for her to come to him, and she did. Her mouth rose to meet his and they sank deep into another sensual kiss. He was almost breathless when they finally broke again.

“Uh-oh.” Her cheeks were flushed. “I couldn’t help that kiss at all.” She’d twisted into his embrace, and her nipples peaked against her T-shirt and the bra underneath it.

“See? Sometimes you just don’t have a choice.”

Desire made his thoughts spin. He certainly hadn’t had enough champagne to feel this tipsy. He stroked the silky skin of her arm, wishing he could bare other parts of her. But he could still resist doing that—for now. “Sometimes you have to give in to forces more powerful than a mere human.”

“You’re not a mere human, you’re a prince.” She winked.

He loved how she seemed totally natural with him, not affected or intimidated at all. “Even royalty are subject to the whims of passion.” He traced her cheekbone with his thumb. “Which can be quite inconvenient at times.”

She glanced about nervously. “I hope there aren’t any photographers hiding in the bushes.”

“I’ve learned to go to places that would never occur to them. Why would a man with a large rural estate go to a popular state park?”

“Because it has this cool stream with yellow wildflowers growing along its banks.” Her slender fingers touched the petals of a flower. How he’d like to feel them running over his skin, or through his hair.

“That is why I come, but they don’t think like that. They expect me to go to expensive restaurants and exclusive gatherings. Of course I do that as well, it’s my job, but I’ve become quite skilled at doing the unexpected when I’m off duty. I always have my driver study natural areas near wherever I’m traveling. A man can withstand a lot more dreary meetings around a conference table if he knows there’s a bracing kayak trip waiting for him at the end of it.”

“Very cunning, and keeps you fit, too.”

“And sane. At least as sane as I’m going to be.” He grinned. He didn’t feel terribly sane right now. He wanted to do all kinds of things that weren’t sensible at all, especially not when you did them with a girl who was already in the public eye and who didn’t fit the queen’s narrow ideas of what constituted a suitable consort.

But no one, including the queen, was going to keep him from bedding the lovely Ariella.

“I’d really better get back to D.C. I have a busy week to plan for.”

Again he felt her pulling away from him. He stood and helped her to his feet. Landing a kiss on Ariella’s lovely mouth was enough excitement for today. Their time together had only confirmed his intuition that she was no ordinary woman. He could pace himself and wait for the right moment to claim his prize.

“I need to do some planning myself. Now that I’m staying in D.C. a while longer I want to make sure I make the most of the opportunity.” They walked back to the pretty clearing where they’d had their picnic. “I’d better think about who I want to wine and dine while I’m here—other than you, of course.”

She bit her lip as they packed the remains of lunch back into the bags. He could see she still felt misgivings about their kiss. It was hard not to come on too strong with her when he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his hotel.

Instead he helped her into the car and returned her discreetly to a location two blocks away from her apartment. From there she walked home alone, chin lifted in sweet defiance against anyone who wanted to know her business.

He sank back against the back seat of the car and let out a long breath. Ariella Winthrop. Something about her had grabbed him hard. He tried to distract himself by pulling his phone out of his pocket. He’d had it turned off all day. A message from his younger brother Henry seemed like the perfect diversion, so he punched his number.

“Are you really staying over there for another week?” His brother’s incredulous voice made him smile.

“At least a week and with good reason.”

“Let me guess, the reason has long legs and a toothy American smile.”

Simon reached forward and closed the partition between him and the driver. “There’s nothing toothy about her smile,” he retorted, thinking about her lovely mouth.

“I knew it.”

“You knew nothing of the sort. I’m here to raise public awareness of World Connect. I have big plans. We’re going to hold an outdoor concert here in D.C.”

“Nice. But let me guess—she’s involved somehow.”

“She might be.” Was he really so predictable?

Henry laughed. “Don’t let Grandma find out about it.”

“Why not?” He bristled.

“She’d have a fit about you dating anyone who isn’t marriage material. Remember that last lecture she gave you about it being time to settle down. She’s got your wedding all planned and all you have to do is show up.”

He growled. “I’m not marrying anyone.”

“You’ll have to sooner or later. You’re next, big brother.”

“Why don’t you worry about your own love life, instead of mine? I suppose I’m lucky that the scandalous state of your affairs distracts attention from mine.”

“That’s why I need you to get married and draw the spotlight off me for a while.” Henry had been photographed in compromising situations several times over the last year. “Why can’t you make them all happy so I can keep on having fun?”

“That might actually be possible.” He watched D.C. pass by his window. “I’ve met someone who could well be the one.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Do I joke around?”

“Yes, often.”

“Then you can just assume I’m jesting.”

“An American girl?”

“The president’s newly discovered daughter, Ariella, no less.” He felt a bit sheepish using her media handle to describe her to his own brother. “She’s quite something.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m afraid it’s gone well beyond thinking.” He smiled as memories of their kiss heated his blood.

“Gran will need sedation. And can you imagine Uncle Derek’s reaction?”

“I’ll try not to.” He shook his head. Their mother’s brother took a keen interest in meddling in their affairs and throwing up obstacles at every turn. “If only he’d been born royal he wouldn’t have to try so hard to be more royal than the rest of us.”

“You do realize you can’t marry an American.”

“Why not? In the old days we nearly always married into royal families from other countries.”

“Exactly. Married into royal families. You need a nice Swedish princess, or one from Monaco or Spain.”

He shoved aside an annoying twinge of misgiving. “I’d say that the president’s daughter is American royalty.”

Henry laughed. “For four years, maybe eight, but I don’t think our grandmother will see it that way.”

“I’m sure she’ll love Ariella once she meets her.” Who wouldn’t? And in his experience, people usually got over their prejudices once you gave them half a chance.

“Oh dear, you sound dangerously serious. And I know how bullheaded you are once you get going.”

“I’m not bullheaded, I just do what I think is right.”

Henry laughed. “So you do. I just hope poor Ariella knows what she’s in for.”

* * *

Ariella was attempting to butter toast while checking messages on her phone, when she saw seven messages in a row from Scarlet that must have come in while she was at the gym. She put down the butter knife and punched in Scarlet’s number.

“You’re not going to believe this.” Scarlet was breathless with excitement.

“Try me.” She could barely believe anything that happened to her lately. Every time she thought about that kiss, she was assaulted by a rush of starry-eyed excitement and a burst of salty regret. What had they started?

“We’ve been asked to put in a bid on the Duke of Buckingham’s wedding. In England!”

“That’s great.” Her mind immediately started whirling with plans for a side-trip to Ireland to find her mother.

“Could you sound a bit more excited?”

“I am, really.”

“You know how we’re trying to branch out into Europe. This will be our fifth party over there. I’d say this is some kind of landmark. And now that you’re intimate with royalty, we have an excellent chance of being chosen to plan the event.”

“You’re not going to say anything about me, are you?” Her adrenaline spiked.

“Why? Is there something going on that’s secret?” Scarlet’s voice grew hushed with anticipation.

Could she lie to Scarlet, her close friend and business partner? She sucked in a breath and braced herself. “I kissed him.”

“Ohmygod. You kissed Prince Simon?”

The truth was out. She strode across her apartment, trying to stay calm. “I still can’t believe it happened, but it did. Can I swear you to secrecy?”

“My lips are sealed. So you guys have a…a thing going?”

“I don’t know what we have going, but I’m seeing him for dinner tomorrow.” Already her heart fluttered with anticipation—and fear of where this would lead.

“You’re dating a prince. Wow. It’s a crying shame that I can’t put out a PR release about it. Can you imagine how much we could raise our prices if people knew you were practically a princess?”

“Would you stop! I’m not practically anything, except late for work.”

“You’re totally going to London to pitch this.”

“Fine. Can I eat my toast now and we’ll talk when I come into the office?”

“Oh, okay. Make me wait for details. You’re cruel like that. I’ll see you in a few.”

Ariella put the phone down and tried to distract herself by spreading some more butter. She only liked real butter but it was annoying to wait for it to melt enough to spread. She unscrewed the lid of her favorite organic apricot jam, and the phone rang again. What now? It wasn’t even eight-fifteen in the morning yet.

She glanced at the number. Unavailable. Frowning, she picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Is that Ariella?” She didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded very far away.

“This is Ariella.”

“Oh, hello.” The line crackled with static.

“Who’s this?” She was growing impatient, trying to spread with one hand.

“It’s your, it’s…Eleanor. Eleanor Daly.”

Her mother. Her breath caught in her throat and she dropped the knife with a clatter and gripped the phone tighter. “I’m so glad you called. Thank you so much for writing to me. You have no idea how much that letter meant.” So many thoughts unfolded in her brain and she tried not to panic.

“The agency didn’t think it was a good idea for me to contact you when you were a child. They wouldn’t tell me who adopted you. I never stopped thinking about you. Never.”

The emotion in her mother’s voice made her chest constrict. “I’ve always wanted to meet you. Could we get together?” She spoke fast, afraid that at any minute the call would drop and she’d lose the fragile new connection.

“I live in Ireland.”

Ariella’s brain was racing, as she tried to mentally organize the long-awaited meeting with her birth mother. “I have to come to England soon for work. Would it be okay if I came to visit you in Ireland?” The words rushed out, and suddenly she was terrified Eleanor would say no.

Why did she think of her as Eleanor and not her mother? Of course she wasn’t “Mom” to her. That title would always be held by the woman who’d raised her and who she still missed every day. But she wanted to meet Eleanor so much it was a dull ache inside her all the time now.

After a long pause, Eleanor spoke again. “I’m in a remote rural area. Perhaps I could come to England to visit you while you’re there?”

“I’d like that very much.” Exhilaration roared through her and her hands started shaking, causing her to press the phone against her ear. “I don’t know the exact dates I’ll be there yet. What works for you?”

“Oh, anything, really. I’m widowed now, and I do babysitting for income so I don’t have any real commitments.” Eleanor suddenly sounded more relaxed.

“I can’t wait to meet you. It doesn’t seem fair that I don’t know what you look like. You can see pictures of me in the papers all the time.”

She laughed. “I’m afraid I’m not very glamorous. I probably look like a typical Irish housewife. I’ve lived in Ireland since the year after I…had you. I haven’t been back to the States since. I was trying so hard to run away from everything. From you and Ted and the mess I’d gotten myself into.”

“I’m so glad you wrote to me.”

“It was a hard letter to write. I knew I had to reach out to you and I didn’t know how. I was afraid. I am afraid. I know everyone thinks I made the wrong choices back then and I…” Her voice trailed off.

“You made the choices you had to make. No one blames you for them.”

“There wasn’t a day where I didn’t think of you and wonder what you were doing right at that moment.”

“I had a great childhood.” She couldn’t believe she was finally having this conversation she’d waited so long for.

“I’m so happy to hear that.” She could hear tears in her mother’s voice. “I did worry. I tried to imagine that you were being well taken care of and were happy.”

“I could show you photos if you’d like. My dad was an avid photographer and there are really far too many of them.” Then she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. Would Eleanor find it painful to see all this evidence of someone else raising her child?

“I’d like that very much.” Emotion heightened the pitch of her voice. “I’ve missed so much. I never did have another child. You’re my only one.”

She couldn’t believe she was actually talking to her mother after all these years. So many questions flooded her mind. Things she’d always wanted to know. “Do you have brown hair?”

“I do, though I admit to coloring it now to cover some gray. And I can see you have my green eyes.”

“Those are from you? People have always asked me about them. Green eyes are quite unusual. I wonder what other characteristics we share? Oh, I wish I could leave for the airport right now.”

“I’m so glad I’ll finally meet you after all these years. I do feel terrible guilt about what happened. That poor Ted never knew he had a beautiful daughter growing up all that time. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that. Have the two of you become close now?”

She hesitated. “Actually I haven’t met him yet. Since he’s the president he’s surrounded by all sorts of high security and no one entirely believed the story that I’m his daughter until the DNA test results came out. I don’t think the White House knows quite what to do with me.”

She rambled on. “And I suppose he’s busy running the country. And dealing with that mess in the Middle East. They’re thinking of sending troops.” Every time she watched the news now she felt each domestic and international event a bit more keenly, knowing that her own flesh and blood had to make decisions about how to handle each crisis.

“Oh, I just thought that since you were both in Washington…”

She shoved a hand through her hair and tried to keep her embarrassment out of her voice. “We’re going to meet very soon. ANS is arranging a televised special and we’re going to appear on camera together.” She wanted to sound happy and excited, not terrified.

“You won’t tell anyone that we’re going to meet, though, right?” Eleanor’s voice had shrunk again.

“I promise I won’t tell a soul. Is it okay if I call you sometime?” She’d already scribbled down the number, afraid it might disappear into the recesses of her phone or get accidentally deleted.

“I’d like that very much.”

They ended the phone call with much excitement about the planned meeting. Ariella then managed to wolf down the toast and dash to work before her first appointment, adrenaline pounding in her veins like a dangerous drug. The receptionist handed her a message that Francesca wanted to chat about the upcoming ANS special that would bring her together with her famous father.

“It’s lucky I thrive on being busy,” she muttered to herself, as she opened the door to her office. She had umpteen phone calls to make about events happening this week, and now her mind was being tugged between the prospect of meeting her mother, doing a TV show with her father and, of course, seeing Simon again. There was way too much going on for everything to work out smoothly. That was something she’d learned early on in her years as an event planner. Too many balls in the air meant broken pieces on the floor, and soon.

But which ball would crash first?

* * *

On the evening of her date with Simon she left work early so she’d have time for a shower. She was about to climb in and wash her hair when she remembered she’d run out of conditioner. Great. Frizzy hair for her dinner with a prince. She’d have to head to the deli around the corner and pick some up.

She tied up her hair and put on jeans and a jacket. There was no more running to the store in shorts and a tank top now that reporters lurked in every crevice.

She strode into the shop and picked up a bottle of some harmless-looking generic conditioner—the store didn’t carry her rather esoteric favorite—and marched up to the counter, fishing in her pocket for cash. A magazine behind the counter caught her eye. Royal Watch was the title, emblazoned in yellow letters.

Simon’s gorgeous face almost totally filled the front cover. The rest of it, unfortunately, was hogged by the shiny, overly made-up face of a young blonde woman pressing her cheek against his. A young woman who was most decidedly not Ariella Winthrop.

“Two ninety-nine.” The cashier’s voice tugged her back to the present.

She handed him a twenty. “And I’ll take that magazine, too.” Her voice came out hoarse. She pointed at Royal Watch. “Research for work.” Because of course she was just buying it to see if there was any information about what the Duke of Buckingham might want for his wedding decorations. Yeah. That was it.

She hurried back to her apartment with the magazine rolled tightly. She certainly didn’t need any press coverage of her buying Royal Watch. Once inside she locked the door and walked slowly to the kitchen counter, now almost afraid to look at the cover again. Was she jealous? She’d only just met Simon. He must have an entire history of romances that had nothing to do with his feelings for her.

She risked another glance at the girl on the cover. Blue eyes, heavily outlined with dark eyeliner. The text over the photo said Prince Simon Engaged!

She frowned. He couldn’t be in love with someone else and kissing her—could he? She flipped to the “article,” which consisted of two paragraphs accompanied by a lot more pictures. All the photos appeared to be from the same outdoor sporting event—some kind of horse race—with all the women in big hats.

The article said that Lady Sophia Alnwick and Prince Simon had told their closest friends of their planned engagement, and that the queen was thrilled to welcome her new daughter-in-law into the family.

How come she hadn’t seen any of this in the more mainstream press? Prince Simon wasn’t as much in the public eye as his older brother, who was heir to the throne, but the entertainment press still picked up on stories about him quite often. Could Royal Watch simply have made it up?

Apart from the cover picture where they appeared to be cheek to cheek, they didn’t look that intimate. Still…

She showered and dressed with considerably less excitement and more trepidation than she’d been feeling before she saw Royal Watch. How could she bring this up without seeming like a jealous harpy? On the other hand, she certainly didn’t want to kiss a man who was engaged—even unofficially—to another woman.

When Simon’s driver opened the rear door of the car thirty minutes later, she was surprised to find it empty. Did she now expect one of the crowned heads of Europe to arrive in person to pick her up? She was definitely getting a big head.

The car slid through the more exclusive streets of the city. She had no idea where they were going, but somehow it seemed embarrassing to admit it to the driver, so she didn’t ask. Before long, they pulled up in front of a classical façade. The driver opened the door and she stepped out. The building looked grand and impersonal, like an embassy or an exclusive law office. She walked up the front steps and a suited man opened the door and murmured “Good evening.” Still no sign of Simon. If her life wasn’t so unpredictable and over the top already she’d probably be growing alarmed by now.

“Ariella.” His deep, smooth voice called from down a marbled hallway. Immediately her body heat rose.

He walked up to her and kissed her softly on the lips. Who’s Sophia Alnwick? she wanted to ask, but now was not the time. Her mouth hummed under his kiss and she wanted it to deepen, but the man who’d opened the door must be nearby, and maybe others, too. She didn’t want anyone to find out about their clandestine affair.

An affair? That sounded so…sexual. And it wasn’t. At least not yet.

“What is this place?”

“An unofficial annex to the consulate. There’s no one here in the evenings so I’ve requisitioned it so I could entertain you at home, so to speak. We’ll just have to pretend we’re at Whist Castle, since you won’t do me the honor of visiting me at my real home.”

His teasing hurt expression made her laugh. He always managed to diffuse any tension in the situation and make her feel like they were just two people who happened to get along well. “As it turns out, I might be planning a party in England soon.”

He picked up her hand and kissed it, which made her fingers tingle with pleasure. “Then perhaps I’ll have some beefeaters intercept you and whisk you up to Whist.” His eyes glimmered with humor.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” One brow rose as if he was asking the question of himself. “You don’t ever really know what you’ll do in any given situation until you’re faced with it. That’s something I learned during my time in the military. You can only hope you’ll do what you know is right.”

“Speaking of which, are you engaged?” There, it was out. And ringing boldly through the marble-clad hallway. Any staff who were lingering in the corners had just seen them kiss, making the question really embarrassing.

“Engaged as in busy?” He gestured for her to enter a room.

Which she did, glad to get out of the echoing hallway. They were now in a large sitting room, with damask curtains and big armchairs. “Engaged as in betrothed.” She managed to stay fairly calm while she waited for his response. Was he going to deny it?

“Most definitely not.”

He did deny it. “I saw a cover story about it in a magazine in my local deli.”

He didn’t look the slightest bit flustered. “Do you believe everything you read in the papers?”

Her face heated slightly. “No. Especially not if it’s written about me.” She felt a smile creeping across her mouth. “I should have known it wasn’t true.”

“But you had to ask anyway.” His gaze challenged her.

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t kiss men who belong to someone else.”

“I’m relieved to hear it. And I love the way you came right out and asked. I get so tired of people beating about the bush. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

“I’m not sure how fresh I am. I’ve had a rather long day. I just learned that the Saudi prince whose wedding we’re planning for next month requires that the men and the women celebrate in different rooms.”

“We princes can be quite high-maintenance.” His cute dimple appeared. “Though that does rather seem like it would take the fun out of the occasion.”

“So the queen isn’t thrilled that you’re to wed Sophia Alnwick, as the magazine proclaimed.”

He shrugged. “I suspect the queen would be more than thrilled if I was to wed Sophia. I, on the other hand, feel differently.”

She giggled. She loved his dry humor. “So the palace is trying to set you up with her because she’s suitable royal bride material.”

“Yup.” He sighed. “Blood as blue as a robin’s egg, pretty as an English rose and not terribly bright. All the makings of a royal bride.”

“But not your cup of tea.”

“I prefer women with keen intelligence, even if that makes them more troublesome.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I can’t be that intelligent or I wouldn’t be spending time with you when I’m trying to avoid media attention. I think you might be the most eligible bachelor in the known world.”

“You’d think they could find something more compelling to write about. Global warming, for example.”

“Nah. Too serious. Handsome princes are more fun to read about. Especially when they’re kissing the wrong woman.”

He’d closed the door and now stood in front of her. His expression was serious, brows lowered and eyes thoughtful. “I’d much rather be kissing the right woman.”

Uh-oh. An inner warning signal flashed inside Ariella. Getting in too deep. His steady gaze held her like a vise. She could feel her breathing quicken and her body heat rise. Her mouth itched to kiss him and her fingers to sink into his shirt. Isn’t that why she’d come here?

His gaze lowered to her lips, which quivered with awareness.

Where was this going? This was obviously some kind of vacation fling for Simon and he’d fly back to England and be dating English roses again before the end of the month. She didn’t usually embark on any kind of relationship unless she saw some kind of future in it, which might explain why she was usually free to work events on Saturday nights.

She’d been jealous of some strange woman called Sophia whom she’d never even met. She was still jealous of her, truth be told, because the queen wanted her and Simon to be a couple.

What on earth did the Queen of England’s opinion have to do with her love life?

Did she even have a love life?

Her thoughts ran in all directions like rats fleeing a sinking ship, but her body didn’t move at all. Simon’s face grew closer until his lips touched hers. A flash of desire rose through her and her eyes shut tight as they kissed. Sparkles flashed across her brain and danced in her fingers and toes as chemistry rushed between them.

What was happening to her? She was the sensible one who drove her wilder friends home from parties. She didn’t get into scrapes with their celebrity guests or have skeletons tucked behind the coats in her closets. Well, not until it turned out that she was the president’s unknown love child. Everything seemed to have spiraled downhill since then.

Or was it uphill?

Simon’s hands fisted in her blouse as their kiss deepened. Her fingers roamed into his thick, short-cropped hair. The rough skin of his cheek and his simple masculine scent thickened the arousal building inside her. His erection had thickened to the point where she could now feel it pressing against her belly. A pulse of thick, complicated desire throbbed and urged her to tighten their embrace.

Until a knock on the door made them fly apart.

Flushed and breathless, she smoothed her blouse as Simon strode to the door. He pulled it open a few inches and murmured that he preferred not to be disturbed. The invisible person on the other side mentioned something about an urgent phone call from Her Majesty.

Simon turned to her. “I’m afraid I must take this call. I’ll be back in a moment.”

The door closed and she was left alone in the strange sitting room. For the first time she noticed the painting above the fireplace, a clipper ship sailing across a stormy sea, tossing on the waves. An expensive-looking collection of porcelain lined the top of the mantel. What was she doing in this strange room—some kind of official den—groping a man who might one day be King of England. Had she lost her mind?

The queen must be calling to remind Simon of his royal duties and to urge him to keep his hands off strange American women.

Simon’s absence did little to diminish her state of arousal. She wanted to hold him again. To kiss him. To rip his clothes off and make hot crazy love with him on the pale pink striped brocade of the sofa. She shoved a hand through her hair, only to discover that it was tangled from his fingers. She was madly smoothing it when the door opened again and Simon reappeared.

“Now, where were we?” Amusement glimmered in his eyes, along with desire.

A flame leapt inside her. She didn’t remember ever feeling an attraction this strong. Her whole body seemed to gravitate toward him. Even while her brain issued warnings about how this liaison had no future and would likely end in disaster, her fingers snuck around his collar and into the hair at the nape of his neck, as their lips played together.

“What are we doing?” she managed, when they both came up for air. Her head spun from the intensity of the kisses.

“I’m not entirely sure but I know I like it.” He nibbled her earlobe gently, which made her shiver with pleasure.

“Don’t you think we should both be sensible?” She inhaled the scent of his skin and her fingers pressed into the muscle of his back.

“What’s sensible?” His eyes were closed and his lips trailed over her face. Her skin hummed under his touch, under his breath, making her long to be closer to him than ever.

“I’m not sure I know anymore.” She exhaled, longing to let go of her doubts and lose herself in Simon. He projected such confidence and self-assurance it was hard not to simply do what he said. He must have been a very effective army officer. “But my life is very wacky right now and I’m afraid of making it worse.”

He laid a line of kisses along her neck, which had a frightening effect on her libido. “Am I making it worse?”

“Absolutely,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”

He chuckled, then kissed her full and firm on the mouth, embracing her with a caress that mingled power and strength with the utmost tenderness. So many emotions and sensations roamed through her that she almost wanted to cry.

When they finally stopped kissing and pulled apart, a deep sadness fell over her. The tiny separation foreshadowed the time when they’d say goodbye for the last time, because this relationship—if it even was a relationship—had no future. “If we have to keep this a secret, then it must be wrong.” Her voice sounded thin and sad.

He opened his eyes and looked right at her. “Then let’s not keep it a secret.”