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‘Um...yes?’ She was sure embarrassment was what had rendered her voice a husky mess, not the charged volts shooting through her pelvis and the stinging awareness that she was at eye level with his crotch.
She blinked, her brain emptying of everything but one single, breath-stealing erotic image.
‘You missed one.’
A throat cleared. Hastily she glanced down, saw one cheap scratched fork held between his long, neatly tapered fingers.
She snatched it from him. ‘Thank you.’
Still on her knees, she placed the forks on the nearest table, then froze when Prince Remirez extended one elegant hand towards her.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she considered the many ways she could refuse his assistance without causing offence.
There were none.
So she placed her hand in his, felt his fingers glide across her palm on their way to gripping hers. She’d once read a novel in which the heroine described feeling pure electricity when she touched the man of her dreams. Maddie had rolled her eyes then.
Now she sent a silent apology to the maligned character.
Crown Prince Remirez would never be the man of her dreams, and she wasn’t going to waste her time counting the many ways why, but the reality that singed and branded and claimed that small portion of her body promised that she would never shake another hand without remembering this captivating moment.
Her insides liquefied as he tightened his grip and tugged her to her feet. The slight tautening of his face and the flare in his eyes told her he wasn’t completely unaffected by what was happening. Nor did he miss her wince as her arm twinged in pain.
The moment she felt steady on her feet she tried to snatch her hand from his. He kept hold of her for a moment longer before he released her.
When she could breathe again Maddie threw a furtive glance around her. As suspected, every single gaze in the café was fixed on her, including her boss’s—although his curiosity was beginning to dissolve into annoyance.
‘Would...would you like a table, um... Your Highness?’ Was that the correct form of address? Or was it Your Grace? ‘You can pick any one you like. I’ll be with you as soon as I finish putting—’
‘I’m not here to dine, Miss Myers.’ He cut across her, not bothering to keep his voice down. Or the disdain out of it.
She reminded herself that she needed this job and therefore couldn’t afford to be rude to patrons or non-patrons. ‘In that case I can’t really help you, since I’m working. Maybe we can—’
‘It’s in your interest to make time. Now.’
About to refuse, because her heart rate didn’t seem interested in slowing down, and because he really was a little too potent to her senses, she paused. Something in his voice warned her against it.
Belatedly she remembered that he’d summoned Jules to breakfast this morning. Had Jules divulged their connection? Was that why he was here?
She searched his face and came away with nothing but further evidence of his heart-stopping gorgeousness.
A quick glance at the clock showed it was a quarter past eleven. The lunchtime rush hour wouldn’t start for another half hour. ‘Jim, can I take my break now? I’ll make it up later.’
The head chef, who also happened to be the café’s owner, glanced from her to Prince Remirez and then, barely hiding his irritation, nodded. ‘I s’pose so.’
She flashed him a grateful smile, then dived into the small cubicle that doubled up as a changing and break room to get her bag. Slinging it crossways over her shoulder, she hurried through the café and out onto the pavement.
Where a small crowd had gathered, their camera phones ready to capture the image of the most captivating man on earth.
‘We’ll have more privacy in the car,’ Prince Remirez pronounced smoothly, a second before his hand arrived at her waist and nudged her firmly in the direction of the open back door of a limo.
Maddie entered, immediately noting the different configuration of the seats from last night’s car. There was no bench seat on the far side behind the driver. Which left her no choice but shuffle along the seat as Prince Remirez slid in after her.
The door shut behind him and instantly the atmosphere closed in around them. The push of air wrapped his scent around her, triggering that insane urge to bury her face in his neck and drown herself in his scent.
Whether it came from a bottle or it was a specially branded scent, it was lethal enough to be seriously addictive to women.
Addictive.
