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‘My step—umm, I read somewhere that heels and boats aren’t a good combination.’ Her shrug drew his attention to the silky curve of her shoulder. ‘Of course, I don’t know what sort of flooring you have on your yacht, but I don’t want to ruin it.’
Laughter replaced Reyes’s disappointment. It rumbled through his chest, a sensation he hadn’t felt for a while.
‘My floors? You don’t want to ruin the floors on my boat?’ His incredulity grew with his words and he barely stopped himself from shaking his head.
‘No, I don’t. Plus, my feet are seriously killing me. So if you don’t mind?’ She held out her hand for him to take. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’
Caught in the surreal moment, Reyes took her hand. He felt the rough ridge of scarred tissue and looked at the thin line crossing her palm. About to ask what had caused it, he was stalled by the sight of one graceful leg, lifted, one ankle strap unbuckled before the process was repeated with the other shoe.
His gaze dropped to her feet. They were small but perfectly formed with pink tips. The sight only aroused him further, tweaked his already dangerously heightened senses.
‘Good idea,’ he murmured inanely, his voice curiously hoarse.
She nodded and fell into step beside him. ‘I think it’s only fair to warn you, though, the last time I rode a dinghy, I ended up falling overboard. I hope you’ll rescue me if that happens again?’
A smile tugged at his lips. ‘As you can see, my boat is slightly bigger than your dinghy. It’ll take a lot of effort to accidentally go overboard. But be assured, I’ll come to your aid should the worst happen.’
‘Well, if you put it that way, then I have nothing to worry about,’ she said with a smile.
Reyes smiled, feeling less burdened than he had in a long time. He took her shoes as they approached the gangplank and followed her up the stairs onto the deck and through into the large, open salon. He watched her take in her surroundings, her mouth parting to inhale sharply at the opulence that embraced her.
Reyes had seen different reactions to his yacht, some openly covetous and some hidden behind careful indifference. Jasmine’s eyes widened in something close to childlike, uninhibited awe as she took in the polished wood panels, gold ornamentation and monogrammed accessories in royal Santo Sierran blue he’d commissioned for the vessel.
‘Wow!’ She turned full circle and found him watching her. A faint blush touched her cheeks and she walked over to the large sofa and perched on the edge. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to gush.’
‘A genuine reaction is better than artificial indifference.’ He walked over to her and placed her shoes next to her.
‘Seriously? Who would be indifferent to this?’ She waved her hand around the deck.
‘People with ulterior motives they prefer to hide?’ The last female on this boat had been Anaïs. She’d been in full playing-hard-to-get mode, which had swiftly crumbled when Reyes had threatened to walk away. Of course, she’d had other aces up her sleeve. ‘In my experience, people are rarely what they seem at first blush.’
‘Oh, right.’ Jasmine’s eyes darted to his and slid away, and she seemed lost for words. Her tongue darted out to lick the corner of her lip.
Reyes’s heart beat just that little bit faster. His fingers tightened as anticipation fizzed faster through his veins.
Her skin, creamy with the barest hint of tan, glowed under the soft lights of his deck. His fingers itched to touch, to caress. But he held back.
There would be time for that later. He had no doubt he was about to indulge in something he’d never indulged in before—a one-night stand; this could be nothing more than that—but he didn’t want to rush it.
Morning would come soon enough. The treaty would be signed. He would ensure Santo Sierra’s continued economic prosperity. And he would return to his father’s bedside to continue his vigil.
But for now... ‘I think it’s time for that drink, yes?’
* * *
Jasmine swallowed her relief as the heated look in Prince Reyes’s eyes abated. For a moment there, he’d looked as if he wanted to devour her where she stood.
And as much as that had sent a bolt of excitement through her, part of her had quailed at the look.
Hastily, she nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’
She watched him walk towards an extensive, gleaming wood-panelled bar. A steward approached, but he waved him away. Opening a chiller, he grabbed a bottle of wine and expertly uncorked it. Rounding the bar, he handed her a glass and indicated a row of low, luxurious sofas.
