One Night Heir (By His Royal Decree 1)

‘I’m positively restrained and it’s killing me. Especially right this moment.’ His eyes lingered on her mouth with blatant interest. ‘I might be about to fall from the wagon. Or roll in the back of the wagon. You and me. Together. Now there’s an interesting thought.’

Taylor felt her heart beat faster.

Against her will, her eyes moved to his mouth too. Firm, sensual and very masculine. There was no doubt in her mind that Luca Corretti would be a skilled kisser. If rumour were correct, he’d certainly had enough practice.

Appalled by her own thoughts, she turned her head away and took a step backwards. ‘It’s a thought that doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I’ll leave you to hide. I hope your past doesn’t catch up with you.’

‘Me too. I don’t suppose you saw her on your way in?’

‘I didn’t see anyone. What does she look like?’

‘Desperate?’

She choked back a laugh. ‘You spent the night with her?’

‘Not the whole night, obviously.’ He looked so horrified by the suggestion that this time she did laugh.

‘Have you ever spent the whole night with a woman?’

‘Cristo, no! My mantra is “Until dawn us do part.” My longest commitment so far is six hours and I was bored by the end of that. You?’

It was uncomfortable to remember the number of times she’d thought a man was serious about her only to discover he was only interested in selling her out to the press. It had been a harsh training ground for independence. ‘I’m not big on romantic commitment.’

He groaned. ‘You should not have told me that.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that makes you my perfect woman.’ That sexy mouth slanted into a charismatic smile. ‘Just don’t tell me you’re addicted to sex and fast cars or I’m doomed.’

Silence stretched between them. They were standing in the dappled shade of the maze but the heat was stifling and oppressive.

Their eyes met and held.

His head lowered towards hers.

And suddenly they heard voices.

Appalled by how close they’d come to kissing, she glanced at him only to find him doubled up with laughter.

Taylor was torn between laughter and panic. The last thing she needed was to be caught with Luca Corretti. No one would believe it was an innocent encounter.

‘Stop panicking, angelo mia, I’ll rescue you.’ Putting his finger to his lips, Luca took her hand in his and forced her to sprint with him deeper into the maze. ‘I am the expert at the great escape. No one knows more about running from women than I do.’

‘What are you doing? I don’t want to be caught running away with you. And don’t pull me—this dress has no give in it.’ She tugged at her hand but he held it firmly, turned another corner and she gave a little gasp because there, in a shaded glade, was a pretty fountain and by the fountain was an open bottle of champagne.

‘No glasses, I’m afraid.’ With a wicked, sexy smile he released her hand and retrieved the bottle. ‘We’ll have to slum it.’

Weak with relief that they’d avoided detection, Taylor shook her head in disbelief as she watched him. ‘How did you—?’

‘How did I get it here?’ Those wide shoulders lifted in a careless shrug. ‘I imported it here under cover of darkness in case of emergencies. This definitely constitutes an emergency. Judging from the look on your face earlier, your need is as great as mine. I’m always willing to help out a fellow sinner in need. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Take a dip in the cool water.’

Taylor looked wistfully at the fountain. ‘I wish I could. This dress is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever worn but sadly it isn’t designed to allow sitting.’

‘So take it off.’

‘Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. They’ve sewn me into it.’ She caught his look of astonishment and glared. ‘Don’t ask.’

‘All right—’ there was laughter in his eyes ‘—but if you want my opinion I’d say you’ve been stitched up, angelo mia.’

‘Very funny.’

‘I like the idea that you’re sewn into your dress. It could be erotic.’ He prowled around her, his eyes on her body. ‘So what do they expect you to do if you need to have wild, animal sex?’

‘I’m not going to need that.’

He scanned her dress. ‘This is your punishment for not picking something from the House of Corretti. Our clothes would make you feel seductive and feminine. We don’t have to sew our women into their dresses for them to look good. The dress becomes part of the woman.’

She’d forgotten that he ran the fashion house but it explained his effortlessly stylish appearance. Even with his shirt collar open and strands of dark hair falling over his forehead, he looked spectacular.

‘I didn’t pick this dress.’ Heat and hunger made her irritable. ‘I wore what your cousin told me to wear.’

‘He’d never pick anything from my company,’ Luca drawled, ‘it might signify approval and God forbid the rivalry between us should ever die. That fabric isn’t allowing your body to breathe. I could help you with that.’

‘Nice try.’

‘I’ve got moves that would make you weep.’

‘I’m sure you make women weep a lot, but I’m not a crier.’

‘I like you more and more. You could bathe naked in the fountain.’ He reached for the chilled bottle of champagne. ‘Or I could roll this over your skin.’

Her skin was prickling with the heat and she made a sound that was half laugh, half groan. ‘Now you’re torturing me. Talk about something else, before I melt.’ Taylor knew she should walk away but she decided it was safer to wait a few minutes until the people they’d overheard were safely back among the guests. Just five minutes, she promised herself. Five minutes. ‘So who is this woman you’re running from?’

‘I have no idea. Apparently her name is Portia but that was news to me.’

Taylor lifted her hair away from her neck to try and cool herself down. ‘You’re terrible.’

‘Not terrible enough to induce her to dump me, sadly. She was alarmingly difficult to shift.’

‘Some women find bad boys attractive.’

‘And from what I’ve heard, you know a lot

about that.’

‘Do you often listen to gossip?’

‘All the time. Gossip makes me laugh.’ The cork flew out of the bottle with a pop. ‘So tell me the truth, Taylor Carmichael? How do you like your men? Well-done, medium or rare?’

‘Rare.’ Sticky and uncomfortable from the heat and the conversation she squirmed, wishing she could dip her toes in the water. ‘So rare I can’t remember when I last touched one.’

‘So I’m looking at a desperate woman.’

‘You’re looking at a controlled woman. I’m no longer a slave to my impulses.’

‘That sounds like the tag line for a good bondage movie. Slave to Her Impulses. The sequel could be Slave to His Impulses. I might be willing to star in that for a price providing you were the leading lady.’ That mocking smile touched the corners of his mouth and he tipped champagne into a glass and held it out to her. ‘Drink. It will help numb the boredom of the wedding.’

Hating the fact that she was even tempted, Taylor reluctantly shook her head. ‘No, thanks. Champagne is on my list of banned substances, particularly on an empty stomach.’

‘Personally I have a taste for banned substances.’ Shrugging, he tilted his head and drank, the sun glinting off his dark hair.

Just for a moment, because he wasn’t looking at her, she looked at him. At those slanting cheekbones, that nose, the olive skin—

It was so long since she’d looked at a man and found him attractive, the spasm of sexual awareness shocked her.

She reminded herself that Luca Corretti was probably the most dangerous man she could possibly have found herself with. ‘I thought you were trying to behave yourself.’

‘This is me behaving myself.’ He took another mouthful of champagne and she laughed in spite of herself, sensing a kindred spirit. A part of her long buried stirred to life.

‘So both of us are making a superhuman effort to behave. What’s your excuse?’

‘I have to prove myself capable of taking charge of another chunk of the family business.’ Underneath the light, careless tone there was an edge of steel and it surprised her because she didn’t associate him with responsibility.