The Prince and the Pie Maker (The Rebel Royals 2)

“Anything.”

“Can you be more discreet with other women? I am your fake fiancée and—”

“Nothing happened.”

“You don’t have to explain.” She shut her eyes as though shutting out his voice, and the reality he was trying to detail for her.

“Actually, I do.”

Her arms were down at her sides, and he was able to sweep her into his embrace. She gasped when his arms came around her. Her eyes opened wide with surprise. Her lips parted, and he breathed in her sweet breath. He nearly forgot what he was trying to say as he fought not to take her lips.

“I was with Zhi, remember him?”

Jan nodded. A few of the clouds scattered from her gaze.

“He wanted to put money in the dancer’s skirt. I was closest to her.”

Alex’s right hand came to rest on Jan’s hip. Unlike the dancer last night, Jan was fully clothed. Not an inch of her midriff was showing. She was the most desirable woman Alex had ever encountered.

“I saw the flash go off,” he continued. “It was a set up. The dancer was in on it. More fodder for their headlines of the playboy prince. I was only there for the food.”

“I did see your hand on the fork. What was it?”

“What was what?” Alex’s mind was on Jan’s hands which were resting on his chest. He wondered if she could feel how his heart raced at her touch.

“What was the dish? It looked amazing.”

“It was delicious. It was Marrakchia, a Moroccan dish. I had it when I traveled there a couple of years ago. The chef did a good job, but having it on the streets of Marrakesh is the only way to go. We’ll travel there soon.”

“After our trips to France and Spain?” She grinned.

“Anywhere you want to go.”

Jan’s gaze went to the floor again, and she tugged at her lip. But this time, there were no clouds of doubt in her gaze. There was no worrying of her lips.

“So, you believe me then?”

Jan’s lips tugged into a sheepish grin. “I was honestly more jealous that you were eating without me than I was that you were entertaining another woman.”

Alex threw back his head and laughed, but he didn’t loosen his hold on Jan. He gazed down at her, completely transfixed by the woman with a delectable palate that he wanted to taste again and again.

“I wasn’t with another woman,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Your reputation means a lot to me. I’m going to protect it as best I can. But they’ll try more things. Photoshop is my biggest enemy.”

“I’m sorry you have to put up with this. That people don’t see you the way I do.”

They were standing so close together. They were breathing the same air. Their chests rose and fell in unison.

“How do you see me?” he asked.

She looked down at the floor again as though unwilling to show him the depths of her emotions. “I love how passionate you are about food. How excited you get to try something new. How you’ll pick a dish apart and then want to put it back together but make it better.”

“You make me sound like you.” He reached up and brushed a stray hair behind her ear. He promised his lips that they’d make the same trek soon. “We are pretty much alike, aren’t we?”

She’d lifted her gaze finally. There was admiration in her eyes. It was a far cry from adoration. There were facts in the flecks of her eyes, not co

njecture. Jan knew him. He knew her.

He knew she’d had strawberries for breakfast. He could smell them on her breath. He’d had a couple too. What he didn’t know is how they’d tasted on her tongue.