The Princess and the Player

Suddenly, she tore her mouth free and moved out of reach, breathing heavily. “That was...um—”

“Yeah.” Earthshaking. Unprecedented. Hotter than Brazil in the summer. “Come back so I can do it again.”

He reached for her and for a second, he thought she was going to do it. Her body swayed toward him and his mouth tingled in anticipation of locking on to those lips of hers again.

But then she shook her head, backing up another step. “I can’t be with you like this. It’s not fair to Will. We have to straighten everything out first.”

Bloody hell. Will hadn’t crossed his mind once while James kissed his brother’s date. Any of dear Father’s business cronies could have come upon them on the terrace and there were few people in Alma who confused the twins. Everyone knew James had inherited Grandfather Rowling’s priceless antique watch—much to Patrick’s chagrin. It was the first thing people looked for when in need of a handy way to identify the brothers.

“Yes, of course you’re right.” Though his body ached to yank her back into his arms, he gave her a pained smile instead. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, no.” She shot him an indecipherable look. “Not by half. The next time you and I are together, I will be naked and screaming your name.”

His eyelids flew shut and he groaned. “Why can’t that happen tonight?”

“Because as far as the rest of the world is concerned, Will is the Rowling I’m supposed to be with. I’ve had too many scandals mess up my life to knowingly create a preventable one. That’s why it must be perfectly clear to everyone that Will and I are not getting married before you and I get naked.”

Grimly, he nodded, the photo of the two of them on the front page fresh in his mind. They should probably address that, too, at some point, but he’d topped out on issues he could reasonably deal with.

“You should go. And go fast before I change my mind.” Or lose it. “I’m fresh out of nobility and the capacity to resist you.”

She whirled and fled. He watched her beautiful back as she disappeared inside the house, and then went in search of a bottle of Jameson to get him through what promised to be a long night indeed.

Five

James cornered Will in his Rowling Energy office at 9:05 a.m. This was the earliest James could recall being awake, dressed and out of the house in quite some time. But this cat-and-mouse game had grown tiresome, and the man who shared his last name, his blood and once upon a time, had even shared a womb, had the power to end it.

“Will.”

James didn’t cross the threshold out of respect for the fact that he was on his brother’s turf. Instead, he waited for him to glance up from his report. Will’s expression remained composed, though James caught a flash of surprise in the depths of his gaze, which the Master of Calm quickly banked.

“Yes?”

And now they’d officially exchanged two words this week. Actually, James couldn’t remember the last time they had talked. They’d never been close. Hell, they were rarely on the same continent, but that wasn’t really the reason. The divide had started the night their mum died and grown exponentially over the years.

“We have to talk. Can I come in?”

“Since you’re here already, I suppose.” Will’s long-suffering sigh said he deserved a medal for seeing James on such short notice.

James bit back the sarcasm strictly because he was the one with the mission, though his brother’s condescension pricked at his temper. The brothers would never see eye to eye, though why James cared was beyond him.

They’d taken different paths in dealing with the single most defining year of their lives, Will choosing to compensate for the loss of everything familiar by becoming whatever their father said, as long as the remaining parent paid attention to him.

James compensated for his mother’s death by lashing out at his father, refusing to forgive the ultimate crime—though James could never run far enough or get into enough trouble to drown out the sound of his own conscience. While he’d never forgive his father for driving his mum out into the rainy night, back in the deepest reaches of his soul, he blamed himself more.

Because he’d heard them arguing and hadn’t done anything. What if he’d run out of his hiding place to grab on to his mum and beg her not to leave? She wouldn’t have. He knew she wouldn’t have. But she’d probably assumed both her boys were asleep. One of them had been.

James took a deep, not at all calming breath as he settled into one of the wingback chairs flanking Will’s desk. “It’s about Bella.”