Duke Ian Furchess is not a man who likes to be told what to do, but the mantle of responsibility has always lain on his shoulders. For the first time, however, a gorgeous American tourist with her own royal agenda might just tempt him to go too far...
Chapter Five
At ten o'clock, Ian escorted his grandmother out onto the floor for her birthday dance. She was frail in his arms and smelled of liniment. He felt a rush of affection for her, despite her contrary ways.
As they moved circumspectly in time to the music, he caught her gazing at Guilliana with calculating eyes. "Forget it, Nana," he said. The less formal address was one he usually used only when they were alone together. "I won't be bludgeoned into marriage, not even for you."
She glared at him with snapping dark eyes, keeping her mouth curved in a smile to avoid gossip. "That countess would solve all our problems, and she's a beauty, too. Any man would be glad to have her in his bed."
The tops of his ears warmed. No one, not even a duke, wanted to discuss sex with his grandmother. "I don't love Guilliana. I'm not even attracted to her. I know I'm disappointing you, but I'd rather deed this pile of stone over to the National Trust and hide out in a single wing while tourists tramp through the halls than tie myself for life to a woman who doesn't make me happy."
"And this Daisy person? Does she make you happy?"
Ian had fudged a bit on the details of his relationship with Daisy to his grandmother. He might possibly have insinuated that they had met before. A tiny white lie, but one he regretted already.
Instead of answering her question, he countered with another. "Do you believe in love at first sight?" He had her there. He'd been told on countless occasions of how his grandmother had met her suitor reluctantly, but upon seeing him for the first time had given her heart without hesitation.
Her chin lifted. "You're an impertinent boy. Of course I do. But I married someone of equal wealth and station. Your little librarian is a nobody. Without two shillings to rub together. I can't believe the Wolffhamptons have come to this."
Feeling the weight of his grandmother's disappointment-along with the disapproval of the many ancestors whose painted eyes stared at him from gilt-framed portraits hung along the walls-Ian bowed his head for a brief moment.
Perhaps he was making a selfish mistake, choosing to be a man first, and a duke second. But for the first time since his parents and brother had died in the accident, he was doing what was right for him instead of what was expected of a duke. He'd made a phone call today, determined to master this impossible set of circumstances that had been set before him.
Over his grandmother's shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Daisy across the room. She was laughing, surrounded by a bevy of single men on the prowl, lured in by her infectious Southern accent and her unself-conscious charm.
"You asked me a question, Nana, and I didn't answer." He hugged her tightly as the dance came to an end and the room erupted in a chorus of "Happy Birthday." Stepping back to give her a formal bow, he eyed her solemnly. "Yes, Grandmother, she makes me happy."
***
Seeing Ian move slowly across the floor with his elderly grandmother in his arms brought tears to Daisy's eyes. His gentle strength was evident, as was the esteem in which he was held by his peers. Everyone in the room regarded Ian Furchess as a decent, honorable man. Was it right of Daisy to coax him into a temporary indiscretion that he would surely regret?
He joined her for the last dance of the evening, pulling her gently into his arms and holding her close for the romantic classical ballad. She rested her head on his shoulder. "You're a wonderful grandson," she said, feeling melancholy chill her heart.
Ian's fingertips brushed the nape of her neck, sending prickles of awareness down her spine. "If that were true, I'd be cheek to cheek with a countess right now."
"It's not too late," she whispered, her throat tight. "I could invent a headache...go up to my room."
His arms tightened. "You're not going anywhere. I asked you to be my Valentine for the evening. You're stuck with me."
"I don't know what that involves...the Valentine thing. Would you care to elaborate?"
He pulled back and searched her face. The words she had tossed at him were light and teasing, but the tremor in her voice was audible.
Ian brushed her temple with his lips, the fingers of his right hand squeezing her left ones tightly. "I'm not entirely sure. I've never chosen a Valentine before...at least not since I wore knee britches and had a crush on my nanny."
Daisy smiled wistfully. "I feel honored." Pausing for a moment to weigh the risk of a personal question, she plunged in, feetfirst. "The real reason your grandmother is so eager for you to wed is that you're supposed to produce a nursery full of babies to carry on the family name...right? Fruit of your loins? Tiny toddler dukes?"
As if her question had conjured up an inescapable vision, Ian stumbled, his arm tightening around her waist. His momentary awkwardness was as stunning as it was unexpected. What was he thinking?
Before he could respond, the music trailed to an end, and the lights came up, signaling an end to the party. Ian cursed soft and low, his heart beating against her breast in time with hers. "I have to say goodbye to all the guests."
"Of course." She agreed readily, though it was a physical pain to release him, knowing this magical evening was at an end.
"If you don't mind lingering for a bit while I finish my hosting duties, I'd love it if you would meet me upstairs in the gallery later." He pointed to the balcony that stretched across the far end of the room. "I want to talk to you about something."
So courteous. So English. Their hands clung a moment longer. "Go," she said. "I'll wait. I promise."
Daisy didn't really mind the delay. She had a big decision to make, because it had become clear to her tonight that Ian had stolen into her heart. But should she admit she was falling in love? Or would he think, after so few days together, that she was playing an angle? Would he tell her he never wanted to see her again?
***
Ian chafed at the interminable pleasantries he was forced to endure. A few at a time, his guests departed slowly, every one stopping to wish his grandmother one last happy birthday or to shake his hand and offer gratitude for the invitation.
The regal grandfather clock in the foyer ticked away the minutes with a steady, monotonous tempo. It was almost midnight when Nana's nurse and companion escorted her up the stairs.
At last, Ian was alone. He waited until his grandmother was out of sight and then strode rapidly back toward the ballroom. There, he accessed the second floor via a set of stairs hidden behind an ornamental screen.
When he reached the gallery, out of breath and hot underneath his dress shirt, he stopped short, his stomach settling like lead somewhere down around his knees. Daisy was not there. He could see the full length of the narrow space, and it was empty...quiet...bare except for the curious stares of still more Wolffhampton relatives.
Damnation. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, feeling all the joy and anticipation drain out of his heart.
"I thought you had forgotten about me."
At the sound of the quiet, now-familiar drawl, he whirled around. "Daisy!" He snatched her up and kissed her wildly, her feet dangling several inches above the floor. She felt substantial in his arms. Warm. Alive. And he wanted her so badly he was shaking.
Daisy kissed him back. Grown-up, naughty kisses that reminded him of how much he had to lose if he made a misstep. Her arms twined around his neck in a stranglehold, and she lost one of her shoes. He heard it plop as it hit the floor.
He shuddered as her tongue mated with his, soft and delicious. "Come to bed with me," he groaned. Whether it was an order or a plea, he wasn't sure.
Slumberous blue eyes shone with the same eagerness he felt. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Ian."
He scooped her into his arms, thanking his lucky stars that his suite was on this level. Though the way he was feeling at the moment, he could have carried her up ten flights of stairs and never noticed.
The halls were silent and dimly lit. They encountered no one on the way. With one hand he opened the door to his bedroom and carried her over the threshold.
A warm glow from the fireplace illuminated the darkness. Its meager glow was perfect for him to revel in exposing Daisy's curvy, white-skinned body as he unzipped the borrowed ball gown and let it fall to the floor. Her bare breasts gleamed like rich cream. The only undergarment she wore was a tiny pair of black satin panties.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Quit staring, Ian, and take off your clothes."
***
Daisy stepped out of the pile of froth and shivered, though with logs burning in the massive fireplace the chamber was actually quite warm.
Ian chuckled at her imperious command to take off his clothes but obeyed, ripping at his shirt and scattering studs willy-nilly as he disrobed.
When he kicked off his socks and shoes and shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, she backed up a step. He was big and aroused and hungry. Though he employed dozens of servants to do his every bidding, he looked like a man who enjoyed physical challenges. The muscles and sinews that flexed beneath his skin were impressive.
He turned down the covers on the enormous four-poster bed and crooked a finger. "Let me warm you up."
She bit her lip. "Is that code for something?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you're far too accustomed to bossing people around and having them do exactly what you want. Yes, Your Grace. No, Your Grace."
He picked her up again, his easy strength making her feel delightfully feminine as he held her to his hard, lightly hair-covered chest. Depositing her gently on the bed, he came down beside her, propping himself on an elbow, head on his hand. "And I think you bewitched me the morning we met."
She grinned, loving the way a lock of his hair fell over his forehead, making him look youthful and more relaxed. "You were awfully cranky that day."
He nodded, tracing a circle around one of her nipples until it puckered. "I deserved to be," he muttered. "It felt as if I'd been struck by lightning."
Eyes closed, she squirmed at his caress, and her hands fisted in the snowy sheets as he mapped her body with a tactile exploration that left them both gasping for breath. If she touched him in return, it would be over too soon. The air shimmered with the intensity of their arousal. The unmistakable scent of need fragranced the sheets.
"Look at me," he commanded, every inch the duke. "I want to remember this night."
Her lashes fluttered open as his words and their meaning registered. "I'm not supposed to be in this bed," she whispered. "We both know that. And I can't stay here beyond tomorrow. Why are we doing this?"
He moved on top of her, spreading her legs with sure movements and settling between her thighs. "Because you're my Valentine," he said. "The only one I've ever wanted."
He guided his fully erect shaft with one hand, entering her with a shallow, gentle thrust that gave her time to adjust to his size. In that moment, her heart broke just a little. Something so perfect, so incredible couldn't last.
Closing her mind to the unpleasantness to come, she wrapped her legs around his waist. "I won't break," she said. "Make love to me, Ian."
***
Twenty-first-century Dukes were well-educated, cerebral and trained in reasonable debate.
But with his first thrust inside Daisy's warm, welcoming body, Ian lost his mind. If he had ever felt such pleasure in his life, he couldn't remember it. She was tight. And really limber. The head of his shaft nudged her womb. Then he realized with hazy shock part of what was different. He was making love to her without protection.
As if she read his mind at the fractional hesitation, she ran a hand through his hair. "It's okay," she whispered. "I'm on the pill. And you have nothing to worry about beyond that."
His heart wrenched. At last he had found the woman with whom he'd be happy to make babies, but he'd have to hand over his heritage to keep her. How many polo matches had he won in his life with a just-before-the-buzzer shot to save the day? He'd tried such a ploy this morning, unbeknownst to Daisy. But the effort had obviously failed; they hadn't called him back. And yet, having Daisy like this, warm and willing in his bed, was the only victory that mattered.
Moving faster, harder, deeper-filled with spreading joy and a tumultuous rush to completion-he acknowledged in one last coherent corner of his brain that the choice had been made on that very first day.
As his body went rigid and dropped in free fall, he felt her passage squeeze him with flutters of her own release....
***
"I'm going to marry you, Daisy Wexler, so you might as well get used to the idea." They had been naked together for several hours. And Ian had put every moment to good use.
She sighed and snuggled closer to his side, her slender leg resting across his thigh. "Don't be ridiculous. You have to marry an heiress. I couldn't live with myself if you had to give up your home."
"The National Trust won't make us move out," Ian said, combing her hair with his fingers. "We'll simply have to downsize a bit."
She sat up, the sheet clutched to her breasts as if he hadn't licked every inch of those beautiful-
"Focus, Ian," she said with exasperation. "Are you actually serious?"
He tucked his hands behind his neck, stretching with a bone-deep contentment that told him he was making the right decision, the only decision. "I am. I can live with less of a house, my love. But I can't live even one more minute without you."
Tears leaked from her eyes but he kissed them away. Which led to another highly satisfactory round of convincing his wife-to-be that he was never going to get enough of her. Ever.
When they collapsed at last, exhausted but happy, Ian saw that the message light on the ancient landline phone was blinking. Daisy had dozed off in his left arm, so with his free hand, he lifted the receiver, punched the button and listened.
Laughter bubbled up in his chest, along with exhilaration. He shook her gently as he replaced the phone. "Daisy...wake up."
She blinked, rubbing her arm. "What's wrong?" she said sleepily. And with good reason. The night was headed toward dawn and he'd kept her awake for hours, unable to sate his need for her.
"I left a message for Victor and Vincent Wolff yesterday," he said. "And I told them that with a little corroboration, I was absolutely sure there was a family connection."
"I could have called them." Daisy frowned, clearly disappointed that he had stolen her thunder. "But I guess they enjoyed hearing the news from you."
He gathered her close and kissed the top of her nose. "I took a page from your book, my resourceful American sweetheart, and invited them to invest in the future of their newfound family. They've wired five million pounds to my account in London, contingent upon the finalization of your research and with an urgent plea not to sign over even an acre of the Wolffhampton birthright in the meantime."
Daisy's eyebrows rose in shock. "So you won't lose the house after all?"
"We won't lose the house, Daisy. And you'll have the rest of your life to poke around Britain and find your own relatives."
Her bottom lip trembled in a radiant smile. "I love you, Ian."
"I love you, Valentine."
He slid a hand beneath the covers, thinking about chubby blue-eyed babies and all the wonderful years to come....
If you enjoyed this, funny, sexy story, you won't want to miss
USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard's MINDING HER BOSS'S BUSINESS, book one in the Dynasties: The Montoros series, launching May 2015!
Pick up all six sizzling and scandalous stories in the
Dynasties: The Montoros series, only from Harlequin® Desire!
MINDING HER BOSS'S BUSINESS by USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard
CARRYING A KING'S CHLD by USA TODAY bestseller Katherine Garbera
SEDUCED BY THE SPARE HEIR by Andrea Laurence
THE PRINCESS AND THE PLAYER by Kat Cantrell
MAID FOR A MAGNATE by Jules Bennett
A ROYAL TEMPTATION by USA TODAY bestseller Charlene Sands
***
Keep reading for a sneak peek of Janice Maynard's MINDING HER BOSS'S BUSINESS, book one in the Dynasties: The Montoros series. Available May 1st!
USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard asks: Can a boss on a royal mission mix business with pleasure?
Diplomat Alex Ramon's Miami mission is on the rocks. Convincing the exiled Montoros to give up their American life and return to Alma's throne has become personal. Not only is his trusted aide Maria Ferro flirting with a potential prince, but Alex is actually jealous! So jealous, he might sabotage his goals so he can take Maria to his bed...a prize more tempting than any commission from the crown.
But Alex doesn't know that Maria has a longtime crush of her own-and it isn't on the playboy prince...
Alex Ramon winced as shards of pain lanced his temples. Though the splitting headache was undoubtedly a result of jet lag and too little sleep for the past couple of weeks, it could also be attributed to stress. At the moment, his particular stressor stood on the opposite side of the room...a tall leggy blonde in a formfitting aquamarine dress and killer heels.
Maria Ferro. Aged twenty-seven. Straight, honey-colored hair that tumbled like a silky waterfall almost to her ass. He probably shouldn't be thinking about her ass. Definitely not. But tonight it was difficult not to notice.
Reluctantly, he dragged his attention from his coworker and surveyed the room. By all accounts, the party was going swimmingly. The delegation of business leaders from the European island nation of Alma mingled with the various members of the Montoro family, everyone chatting with animation and cordiality.
The ballroom was situated on the ground floor of one of Miami's premier hotels. An entire wall of glass showcased the azure ocean. Priceless chandeliers cast sparkles across the polished hardwood floor. The decor was understated, modern and sophisticated. Much like the wealthy Montoro family themselves.
Alex inserted a finger beneath the collar of his tux and tugged. He was more than accustomed to upscale social functions. But in this moment, restlessness plagued him. As Alma's deputy prime minister of commerce, he carried the lion's share of the responsibility for convincing the Montoros to return to their homeland and resume the throne.
A lot was riding on tonight and the days to come.
This evening's soiree was only the beginning...a chance for the delegation to be introduced and to establish personal contact with the family whose ancestors once ruled Alma. Unfortunately, the men and women in the youngest generation, all twenty-somethings, were more interested in hard-driving business deals and hard-partying social lives than in resurrecting any royal roots.
A throaty laugh echoed across the room. Maria was clearly enjoying her handsome companion. Gabriel Montoro, middle child of Rafael III, epitomized the classic bad boy...fun loving, hard to pin down, heedless of anyone's opinion. Alex wanted to dismiss him as a lightweight player, but in fact, Gabriel ran the South American division of Montoro Enterprises with surprising success. He was headquartered in Miami, which meant he would be involved in the upcoming negotiations.
Alex was surprised that the usually sensible Maria didn't see through Gabriel's facade. Perhaps she was blinded by the man's green eyes, tousled hair and golden skin. Alex wasn't jealous. That would be ludicrous. He and Maria were nothing more than business associates. But he was half-a-dozen years older than she was, and he felt protective of her.
She had worked for his family in London. Then, when political power changed hands in Alma and the Ramons were able to return to their homeland, Maria had come, as well, along with her mother. Alex had watched with satisfaction as Maria's talent and hard work brought opportunities her way. Now, as a marketing and PR expert, she was set to play an integral role in this new venture.
Alex admired and respected Maria. She was too nice a woman to be taken in by a jaded playboy like Gabriel Montoro.
Decades had passed since the last Montoro monarch was deposed by a dictator in the aftermath of the Second World War. Four generations later the family enjoyed the fruits of a shipping and trade empire that spanned half the globe.
The Montoros were happy and successful in Miami...legendary for their wealth and lifestyle. Only time would tell if they could be persuaded by duty and honor to walk a different path.
Alex made his way around the perimeter of the room, stopping to make introductions and to chat with this person and that. In his hotel room he possessed lengthy dossiers on each of the key players in tonight's drama. Though he had glanced over his notes before coming downstairs, the information was stored in his brain.
That was how he worked. Prepare for every eventuality. Plan for any outcome. Make no mistakes.
At last he reached the small alcove where Maria and Gabriel stood. She held a glass of wine in one hand, though Alex hadn't seen her drink more than a few sips. Gabriel Montoro appeared to be offering her naughty vignettes about their fellow partygoers.
Deliberately, Alex took his place at Maria's side and gave Montoro a steady glance. "Mr. Montoro. I'm Alex Ramon."
Gabriel nodded as the two of them shook hands. "I know. My father speaks highly of you. I have to tell you, though, you may have your work cut out for you. None of us are particularly interested in playing dress-up with crowns and thrones and an antiquated system that has seen its day."
Alex rubbed a hand across his chin, hoping to diffuse the awkward moment with humor. "Why don't you tell me what you're really thinking?" The man's blunt honesty caught him off guard.
Gabriel shrugged. "I'm not sure what all of you hope to gain."
Maria shot Alex a glance as if to caution tact. But Alex was off his game. And irritated. "Alma is in the midst of important changes. Restoring the monarchy in a ceremonial role is a popular idea with the people at large. The offshore oil reserves have made the country wealthy, but we need stability. A royal marriage would insure that."
Gabriel's smile was mocking. "How very feudal of you, Mr. Ramon."
"This is not something to joke about. The lives and well-being of thousands of people are at stake here. Your family's history is part and parcel of Alma's identity."
Gabriel shook his head. "They threw us out with nothing but the clothes on our backs."
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets. He had the most insane urge to throttle the guy. Wouldn't that be a royal mess... "They didn't throw you out," he said, the words even. "You weren't even born. And the people had no say in it. You know what Tantaberra was like. He'd shoot first and ask questions later."
Gabriel shrugged. "Whatever. The point is, if you're trying to make my family and me face up to some kind of obligation, you're way off course. We have a good life here in Miami. Why would we want to return to a tiny backwater collection of islands that time forgot?"
Maria spoke up, her blue-green eyes sparkling with passion. "Alma has changed, Mr. Montoro. We have high-speed broadband internet access, satellite television and radio and a thriving business community. Along with the natural beauty of the land, we have much to offer."
Gabriel wasn't convinced. "I can find all that and more here in the US."
Alex played his trump card. "But think of your aunt...you know what she wants..."
A flicker in the other man's eyes told Alex he'd finally scored a point. Isabella, at seventy-three, was the oldest living Montoro. It was her dearest wish that her grandchildren, grandnieces and grandnephews return to their homeland for the sake of family honor. She was dying...caught up in the advanced stages of Parkinson's disease. Alex had a notion she was hanging on only long enough to see the transfer of power take place.
Gabriel downed the last of his champagne and plucked another crystal flute from the tray offered by a passing waiter. "Aunt Isabella lives in the past. We do not always get what we want."
"I think that's a song," Maria said, smiling. Clearly she was trying to lighten the mood. But Alex was in no frame of mind to be appeased. Gabriel Montoro rubbed him the wrong way. The man had wealth, power, good looks and sex appeal. It was rumored that women besieged him all hours of the night and day. Surely Maria wouldn't be so naive as to be taken in by him.
Gabriel sipped his drink, his gaze stormy. "Lucky for you, my father retains some vestige of the old ways. Perhaps he can be persuaded. Who knows?"
Alex winced, as did Maria. Maria laid a hand on Montoro's arm briefly, as if to placate him. "I think no one has told you," she said softly. "But your father cannot reign."
"Why the hell not?"
It was oddly amusing that even though Gabriel insisted his family had no interest in the monarchy, he was incensed at the notion his father was ineligible.
Alex took a deep breath and exhaled. "Your father is divorced. His marriage was not annulled. Under the tenets of Alma law, that legally disqualifies him."
"Hell of a way to operate a country. You should be damn glad I'm not in the running. If a man of my father's caliber is not on the short list, I'd never make the cut." The sarcasm was laced with disdain.
"This isn't personal, Mr. Montoro. We're merely trying to follow the traditions and expectations of our people."
Maria nodded. "Alex is right, of course. The situation is unprecedented. We are trying our best to make it work."
"But neither of you even lived in Alma until Tantaberra was ousted. Why do you care?"
Alex remained silent, unable to give voice to the emotions roiling inside him. Fortunately, Maria was more vocal. "Alex's family met the same fate as yours long ago, Gabriel. They, however, settled in London and rebuilt their fortunes in oil and gas. When Tantaberra was finally overthrown, Alex's father determined that returning to Alma was the right thing to do."
Gabriel shook his head, draining the second glass of champagne. "I seem to be surrounded by proponents of duty above desire. Thank God, my brother is the one in the hot seat. You'll never find a more honorable man. But whether or not he's interested in a crown remains to be seen."
Alex took Maria's elbow in a loose grip. "If you'll excuse us, Mr. Montoro, Maria and I need to mingle. I'm sure we'll meet again."
Gabriel eyed both of them, his rueful smile half apology, half derision. "I'm sure we will. How long do you anticipate staying in Miami to stir the pot?"
"A month, give or take. We have a great deal of work to do. The official request from Alma to the Montoro family is in the process of being drafted."
Maria spoke up. "And I'll be working on press releases and rollouts to the public. We want everything to be positive and upbeat."
"And if my family refuses?" Gabriel's steely-eyed gaze held not a whit of humor.
It was Alex's turn to shrug. "If your brother agrees, the rest of you will be free to make your own choices. Although, for the sake of a smooth transition, your support will mean a lot to him, I would think."
Maria grimaced. "This is a huge undertaking, Mr. Montoro."
"I asked you to call me Gabriel," he said. "And you, too, Alex. I'm not one to stand on ceremony." If he was making a point, it was subtle.
"Gabriel, then," she said. "We take our charge very seriously. I hope you'll give us a chance to win you over."
He chuckled. "Fair enough."
His relaxed response sent a wave of relief crashing through Alex. It would be bad form to alienate one of the royal family right out of the gate. Gabriel had been pissed a moment ago, but his tone and demeanor were mellower now.
"I appreciate your plain speaking," Alex said, his customary diplomacy back in working order. "I'll look forward to continuing our conversation."
***
Maria allowed Alex to steer her away from the Montoro bad boy, but for once, she couldn't read her boss. He led her toward the buffet. "Have you eaten anything?" he asked gruffly.
Her stomach rumbled on cue. "No. I was too nervous."
He handed her a plate. "We've both been working nonstop for weeks. I think we deserve a break."
Maria surveyed the bounty with anticipation. Fresh seafood, everything from shrimp cocktail to crab legs to raw oysters, filled silver trays to overflowing. The various salads and breads were no less appealing.
She made her choices and followed Alex to a small table for two. The glass doors were designed to be open for access to the patio, but it was much too hot at the moment for anyone to go outside.
She sat down, tugging the hem of her dress to a decorous level. Alex was in an odd mood. In a tiny pocket she carried a tube of lipstick and a small vial of tablets. Shaking two ibuprofen into her palm, she handed them across the table. "Your head is killing you, I can tell. Take these."
He scowled but didn't argue. She knew that men in general and this one in particular hated showing weakness of any kind. It was a sign of his discomfort that he didn't refuse.
They ate in silence for long minutes. The quiet didn't bother Maria. She'd grown up without brothers or sisters and had often spent time alone at home when her mother was at work.
Tonight, however, she was more aware than usual of her boss. It was no surprise that she'd had a bit of a crush on him over the years. Alex was virile, lean and muscular. Even in the expensive suits he wore, his physical power was evident. Thick black hair, cut conservatively, and deep brown eyes added up to an extremely masculine and sexy man.
In London, she had worked as his secretary. Once they all returned to Alma, however, she had been promoted to her current assignment in media and PR. Her position fell under the auspices of the Ministry of Commerce, but she did not ordinarily answer directly to Alex. For this assignment, however, he was definitely in charge. And that was a problem. Because the longer she knew him, the more she was afraid he would pick up on her reluctant attraction.
She had no illusions on that score. Alex was the eldest son of an aristocratic Alma family. He would marry one day and marry well. But not someone like Maria. Not a woman whose mother had been a laundress in a seedy neighborhood in London to make ends meet.
Maria was practical and ambitious. She would get ahead by virtue of hard work and innate talent. But, once in a while, she let herself fantasize about sharing Alex's bed. All that hard muscle and warm skin at her disposal. A shiver snaked its way from the nape of her neck to a spot low in her belly. Thankfully, Alex was oblivious to her imagination.
He was discreet about his relationships. A very private man with a fine-tuned sense of propriety. She'd seen the hint of disapproval in his gaze tonight as he assessed her party dress. Why, she couldn't say. By Miami standards, her outfit was tame.
Nevertheless, she knew she had blotted her copybook with Alex. Perhaps he thought her décolletage was too low or her skirt too high. Though the man was incredibly appealing, even she could admit he had a stuffy side. Perhaps she would have teased him had he not looked so grim faced. It occurred to her that he took this venture very personally. As if it was solely up to him to convince the Montoros to accept the mantle of the monarchy once again.
By the time they'd finished eating, the lines at the corners of Alex's mouth had disappeared. Between the food and the painkillers, he seemed finally to have relaxed. Still, she couldn't put a finger on what bothered her about his interaction with Gabriel Montoro. Instead of being conciliatory and cajoling, he'd been borderline antagonistic.
It made no sense.
She sipped a glass of Chablis and gazed out over the diverse group of people. The Alma delegation actually outnumbered the Montoros, but the Montoros had invited numerous friends and associates.
Rafael Montoro III was the life of the party. His rugged features belied his age. Though he had already turned fifty, he could pass for a man a decade younger. Did he harbor resentment over being bypassed for the throne?
His oldest son, Rafael IV-known as Rafe-was charming and affable and extremely self-possessed, though he had yet to hit thirty. Except for his age, it was not a stretch to see him as king of Alma. Rafe's sister, Bella, was much like her dad, the center of attention and a vivacious extrovert. But she was very young, only twenty-three if Maria remembered correctly.
Then there was Gabriel, who was another story. And also a close cousin, Juan Carlos, who had been raised with the Montoro siblings after his parents' deaths. Neither Gabriel nor Juan Carlos would be likely to play much of a role in the upcoming transition, except for supporting Rafael IV.
The others present were of little interest at this point. It would be Maria's job to craft the image of a royal family that was strong and moral and charismatic. The only person who might make her job difficult was Gabriel. Who knew what skeletons were hidden in his closet. It would be up to her to excavate them and make sure they didn't embarrass the Montoro family in the midst of this sea change.
Gabriel, despite his reputation, was not so bad, as far as she could tell. Perhaps a bit cynical, almost definitely a player. Women were always drawn to that kind of fallen-angel mystique.
"I don't know how this is going to go."
She jumped when Alex spoke. She'd been so deep in her thoughts he had startled her. She searched his face. "I've never heard you give voice to the possibility that we might not prevail."
His lips twisted. "Well, look at them. Why do they need Alma or royal titles? The whole family is practically royalty here in the States. If you or I were in their shoes, would we give up all this?"
"Maybe. It's hard to say." Maria pursed her lips. "Everyone likes knowing where he or she comes from. The Montoros' family history goes back hundreds of years. I imagine that once they have some time to think about it they'll be excited about renewing those ties."
"I hope you're right."
At the opposite end of the room, a small orchestra began tuning up. When the musicians launched into their first song, Alex stood and held out his hand. "Do you feel like dancing?"
Her heart fluttered and lifted. "I always feel like dancing."
As he led her out onto the floor, she tried not to stiffen up. That would be a dead giveaway that she was nervous.
Alex held her firmly with masculine confidence that was appealing. She was a strong, capable woman, but to move like this...well, that was another thing entirely. Here she could give in to the mastery of the dance. Alex was in charge, and she was able to let go and let him steer their course.
He smelled of crisp starched cotton and warm male skin. She was almost certain she caught a whiff of the hotel's signature shower gel. Her heart pounded in her chest and her knees trembled. This was the first time they had ever been so close.
In Alma, she couldn't think of a single social occasion when she and Alex had interacted so personally. And for such a length of time. Perhaps that was why she felt a change in him.
The first song ended and a second began. Alex made no move to release her. Since she had no real desire to be released, she followed where he led. A less pragmatic woman might have called the moment romantic. Maria was neither a romantic nor a wishful thinker. But even a realist could choose to live in the moment once in a while.
Life was serious business most of the time. A woman could be excused for indulging herself on occasion. And Alex Ramon was definitely an indulgence worth savoring.
Find out what happens between Alex and Maria in MINDING HER BOSS'S BUSINESS by USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard, book one in the Dynasties: The Montoros series. Available May 1st!