Alec's Royal Assignment (Man on a Mission 3)

But it was different tonight. Or maybe it was who she was with that made the difference. Alec, whose eyes made her yearn for those very things she’d long ago decided weren’t for her. Alec, whose kisses sparked a flame she’d been hard-pressed to quench...both times. Alec, who called her Angel in that strong, ardent way that demanded a response equally as ardent. As if he knew what they’d be like in bed, and it aroused him.

Now his eyes spoke volumes, and Angelina was fiercely glad she’d dressed up for him. The royal-blue color of her dress did something for her eyes, making them more blue than gray. The silky, blouson material clung discreetly in all the right places, making her aware of her femininity for the first time in a long time. The heels she’d unearthed from the bottom of her closet and decided to wear at the last minute made her as tall as Alec. She thanked her lucky stars he was so tall to begin with. Most men’s egos were ridiculously fragile if their date was taller than they were, and on the few dates she’d allowed herself in the past, she’d always been careful to wear flats so she wouldn’t tower over the man she was with. She didn’t have to worry about that tonight.

“They’re holding a table for us,” Alec told her. He placed a warm hand on the small of Angelina’s back to guide her, and a little thrill shot through her. She tried to tell herself not to respond to him—his eyes, his smile, his touch. But her body was telling her that— unlike her totally disappointing, one and only sexual encounter—sex with Alec would be far from disappointing. Something she’d already realized the first time she saw him.

Just for a moment she let herself fantasize about what it would be like with Alec, before she shut down her errant thoughts with a firm resolve. Regret stabbed through her. If her job weren’t so important to her...if Zakharian men—especially the men in her line of work—weren’t so judgmental of women they saw as women...if she dared risk exploring this attraction between Alec and her...

Angelina sighed to herself, but made sure nothing of what she was feeling showed on her face.

Alec declined a menu when they were seated at their table, telling Angelina, “Order for me, please. You know what’s good here, I don’t.”

She laughed a little at the unexpected offer—so different from most men she’d dated, who always wanted to order for her. “But I do not know what you like,” she demurred.

“Meat and potatoes,” he said with a smile. “Isn’t that what most men prefer? And no zucchini. I can eat any vegetable except zucchini. Other than that, I’m easy.” His voice dropped a notch. “I’m putting myself in your hands, Angel,” he said softly. And just that easily, her control over her body’s reactions was shattered as she imagined the alternate meaning that could be applied to his words. A sexual meaning.

He did that to her throughout their leisurely meal, from the bacon-wrapped Mediterranean dates stuffed with almonds, all the way through the dessert she usually didn’t eat but ordered especially for him: mini chocolate éclairs that were a specialty of the house. There was nothing she could call him on outright. He just had a way of saying something totally innocuous that could be taken more than one way if your mind was looking for a double entendre. And hers most definitely was.

Over dessert, he asked, “So explain to me again why I’m not supposed to call you Angel. Not that Angelina isn’t a beautiful name, but—” his eyes sought hers “—it seems so...I don’t know...distant. Formal.”

Angelina sighed. “You do not understand. I cannot allow myself to appear weak to the men I work with. Which means I cannot allow myself to appear feminine. Angel—” She glanced down at her plate, then back up at Alec, struggling to overcome her hard-won reserve. “I loved it when you called me Angel,” she admitted in a low voice. “But—”

“But not in public. I get it.”

She hesitated, unsure if he really understood. “If anyone heard you call me Angel, they might think that you...that I...” She cleared her throat. “I cannot allow the men I work with to think of me as a woman. Can you understand that? It is different for you. Where you come from, women no longer have to worry about being taken seriously. Especially women doing what used to be a man’s job.”

Alec shook his head. “My sister, Keira, could tell you that’s not true.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad—he’s been dead for a long time now, but—” Alec grimaced. “Remember how I told you my dad always kidded that my mom broke his perfect record—four boys and then one girl?” She nodded. “He wasn’t really kidding. Keira always had to fight for respect from my dad growing up. Not because of anything she did or didn’t do. Just because she was a girl.”