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Consideringly, he said, ‘I like it—what is it?’
‘It’s fougère—a blend of notes based on lavender, oakmoss and coumarin: a derivative of the tonka bean. It’s a good base on which to build a scent if you like it.’
He handed her back the tester and lifted a brow. ‘The tonka bean?’
Leila nodded as she pulled out another bottle. ‘It’s a soft, woody note. We extract ingredients for a scent from anything and everything.’
She was beginning to feel more relaxed, concentrating on her work as if there wasn’t a whole subtext going on between her and this man. Maybe she could just ignore it.
‘It was developed in the late eighteen-hundreds by Houbigant and I find it evocative of a woody, ferny environment.’
Leila handed him another smelling strip.
‘Try this.’
He took it and looked at her again. She found it hard to take her eyes away as he breathed deep. Every move this man made was so boldly sensual. Sexy. It made Leila want to curl in on herself and try not to be noticed.
‘This is more...exotic?’
Leila answered, ‘It’s oudh—quite rare. From agarwood. A very distinctive scent—people either love it or hate it.’
He looked at her, his mouth quirking slightly. ‘I like it. What does that say about me?’
Leila shrugged minutely as she reached for another bottle, trying to affect nothing but professionalism. ‘Just that you respond to the more complex make-up of the scent. It’s perhaps no surprise that a king should favour such a rare specimen.’
Immediately tension sprang up between them, and Leila busied herself opening another bottle.
Alix Saint Croix’s voice was sharper this time. ‘A king in exile, to be more accurate. Does that make a difference?’
Leila looked at him as she handed him another sample and said, equally coolly, ‘I’m sure it doesn’t. You’re still a king, after all, are you not?’
He made a dissenting sound as he took the new tester. Leila wondered how much more patience he would have for this game they were playing. As if someone like him really had time for a personal perfume consultation...
She looked to see him sniff the strip and saw how he immediately recoiled from the smell. He grimaced, and Leila had to bite back a smile.
‘What is that?’
She reached across and took the paper back. ‘It’s extracted from the narcissus flower.’
His mouth curled up slightly. ‘Should I take that as a compliment? That I don’t immediately resonate with the narcissus?’
Leila avoided looking at him and started packing up her bottles, eager to get away from this man. ‘If you like any of those scents we tested I can make something up for you.’
‘I’d like that. But I want you to add something I haven’t considered...something you think would uniquely suit me.’
Leila tightened inwardly at the prospect of choosing something unique to him. She closed the case and looked at him. ‘I’m afraid I will be bound to disappoint you. Perfume is such a personal—’
‘And I’d like you to deliver it personally this evening.’ He cut her off as if she hadn’t even been talking.
Leila stood up abruptly and looked down at him. ‘Monsieur Saint Croix, while I appreciate the custom you’ve given me today, I’m afraid I...’
He stood up then too, and the words dried in her throat as his tall body towered over hers. They were too close.
His voice was low, with a thread of steel. ‘Are you seriously telling me that you’re turning down the opportunity to custom make a scent for the royal house of Isle Saint Croix?’
When he said it like that Leila could hear her mother’s voice in her head, shrill and panicked, Are you completely crazy? What was she doing? In her bid to escape from this disturbing tension was she prepared to jeopardise the most potentially lucrative sale she’d had in years? The merest hint of a professional association with a king, no less, and her sales would go through the roof.
In a small voice she finally said, ‘No, of course I wouldn’t turn down such an opportunity. I can put a couple of sample fragrances together and deliver them to the hotel later. You can let me know which you prefer.’
