Sex …
How had the conversation turned to sex?
He couldn’t remember when he’d last allowed his emotions to dictate his behaviour but from the moment he’d laid eyes on those strawberry-red lips and that enticing dress he’d felt his grip on control slipping. He prided himself on his focus. He’d flown jets faster than the speed of sound, negotiated sensitive deals with foreign governments, raised millions for charity and yet he hadn’t managed to control the behaviour of one aggravating young woman.
The best he could hope for now was damage limitation.
With an authoritative nod he dismissed the palace footman and pointedly removed the microphone from Izzy’s hand.
This time she didn’t resist and Matteo switched it off, his mouth tightening as he reflected on the awkwardness of their current situation. Having finally secured their privacy he looked at her, expecting to see a similar degree of mortification reflected in those over-made-up eyes, but Izzy Jackson hadn’t finished surprising him.
Instead of shrinking with horror at her public exposure, she gave a gurgle of laughter.
Infuriated by that entirely inappropriate response, Matteo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘This is not funny.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ Clearly aware that she wasn’t supposed to be laughing, she pressed her lips together but still the sound escaped, so she lifted first one hand and then the other and covered her mouth. But that didn’t work either because her eyes swam with tears of laughter, and in the end she gave up the fight and allowed it to escape. Doubling over, she laughed and laughed, apparently highly amused by an incident that had left him cold with horror. And she didn’t just laugh with her mouth she laughed with her whole body.
‘Sorry. I’m really sorry—you’re right, of course, it’s absolutely not funny—’ But she was laughing so hard she could barely speak and neither could Matteo because his eyes were on the seams of her dress which were severely threatened by the unaccustomed strain being placed on them. Her body was lush and ripe and dangerously close to revealing itself.
As if to confirm his fears a single red sequin pinged onto the floor and his loins tightened. The white heat of sexual desire threatened to burn him up and the fact that she was the last woman in the world he would have wanted to feel anything for just made his response all the more exasperating.
Struggling for control, she wiped her eyes with her palm. ‘You have to see the funny side. I expect you’ll be taking orders for a Quarter Pounder with cheese any minute. With extra fries.’
Matteo somehow held his temper in check, his unfavourable impression of her deepening with each passing second. Any dignified woman would be appalled by what had happened. Not Izzy Jackson. She didn’t even bother trying to hide how funny she found the whole episode. In fact she made laughter a physical workout, apparently unaware that leaning forward gave him a prime view of her cleavage. ‘You are a one-woman disaster zone.’ But he noticed that his icy censorship appeared to have no impact on her mood.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ But she wasn’t sorry enough to stop laughing. ‘Look on the bright side—it could have been worse. What if we’d sneaked in here to have hot sex and we’d left the microphone switched on? What if you’d grabbed me and said “Izzy, I want you”?’ She delivered that dramatic statement complete with hand gestures which rocked her off balance and she swayed into him. ‘Oops.’
With a soft curse he closed his hands around her arms and steadied her. He expected her to immediately regain her balance and pull away but instead she plopped her head against his chest.
‘It’s nice to rest for a moment. I wish I hadn’t drunk that champagne.’
Her hair smelt of wild flowers and reminded him of the summers he’d spent at the palazzo when he was a child. The memory almost suffocated him. ‘I wish you hadn’t drunk it either.’ Her arms were bare and her skin was smooth and soft under his fingers. He needed to let her go. Right now.
But if he let her go, she’d fall over.
As if confirming that, she nestled closer. ‘I really am sorry. I totally and utterly messed up and you deserve to feel very, very cross. But it would be great if you could be cross quietly because I don’t feel too good, Your Highness—Sir.’
‘You don’t deserve to feel good after what you just did.’ But there was something about that apology and the way her slim fingers clutched the front of his shirt that touched him and the feeling unsettled him even more than the raw stab of lust because he always remained emotionally detached in his dealings with women. Especially women blatant enough to admit their ‘goal’ was to marry a prince. ‘You’re a disaster, Izzy Jackson.’
‘I know.’ Her voice was muffled against his chest. ‘The crazy thing is I don’t mean to be a disaster. I start every day with a goal.’
‘So you keep telling me.’ He tried to unpeel her fingers but her grip tightened.
‘I just wanted to impress you.’
‘Did you seriously expect your plan to work?’ Even the roughness of his voice didn’t tempt her to move.
‘I hoped you’d take one look at me and just think wow. But I think I might have chosen the wrong dress. I didn’t get my image right. I need to try again.’
Matteo inhaled deeply. ‘Please do not. Please give up that goal right now.’
‘I never give up. I just wish I could put the clock back and do it all again.’
He contemplated telling her that he wouldn’t have been interested no matter what she was wearing but the feel of her snuggling closer drove the blood from his brain to a different part of his anatomy.
‘Hasn’t that ever happened to you?’ Her words were slightly slurred. ‘Haven’t you ever wished you could put the clock back?’
Everyone was scrupulously careful in the way they dealt with him. People tiptoed around him. Men were universally respectful. Women fawned, flattered and flirted. They certainly didn’t ask him intimate questions about his thoughts and feelings.