She could not fall for Nikolas Donovan. She could not. She could see no good outcome for herself if she did.
He wasn't making it easy for her to resist him. Damn him. Of course, he would probably have been irresistible without one particle of effort on his part, but he seemed determined to indulge himself in this lighthearted pursuit of her, as if… as if, she thought, shivering with sudden anger under the shower's cooling spray, it were some sort of game.
Though actually, if it were a game she could probably handle that; she'd played them herself, from time to time. Enjoyed them as much as anyone.
But what if it's not a game?
Oh, yeah, admit it, Rhee. That's what's really worrying you, isn't it? That this doesn't feel like a game. Not to you, anyway. Games don't make you feel like you're riding a torrent. Like you 're not in control.
Rhia really hated not being in control, which was probably why she'd never allowed herself to fall in love before. But suppose…just suppose…that was what was happening to her now?
The thought caused a swooping sensation in her midsection, which in turn made her drop the shower wand for the sixth or seventh time. She picked it up and aimed the spray full in her face, head bowed, eyes closed and breathing hard through her mouth, and after a moment was able to make herself face the awful possibility that she might be falling in love with Nikolas Donovan.
Falling in love with a prince. The heir to the crown of Silvershire.
Okay. Suppose she was. The way she saw it, there were two possible outcomes.
One, it's just a game to Nikolas, and Rhia completes her mission, delivers him to his father the king and returns to her job with the Lazlo Group with a few bruises on her heart. Not a happy prospect, but she'd survive.
Or two, it's not a game for Nikolas, either. But the prospect of that didn't bear thinking about.
She emerged from the shower physically refreshed and more emotionally exhausted than when she'd stepped into it. She hurriedly toweled her hair and left it to dry in its own way, dressed in the only clean clothes she had in her backpack-khaki walking shorts and a red tank top-and slipped on her dusty running shoes and went to find Nikolas and. she hoped, some food.
She found both waiting for her in the small shaded courtyard off the kitchen. And something else.
"What's this?" she asked, nodding at the bright yellow scooter standing at the ready between Nikolas's outstretched jeans-clad legs.
His eyebrow lifted. "This? Strangely, it's a Honda-evidently, they're quite the thing in Europe these days. Phillipe's, not mine. He's been kind enough to lend it to me. though. Hop on-I want to show you something."
She sauntered toward him. arms folded across her middle, where her stomach had begun to growl uncontrollably. "Is there food in there?" She nodded at the cooler lashed to a small metal ledge on the back of the scooter.
"There is. A repast fit for a-do pardon the expression- king." He held out his hand, waiting with supreme and annoying confidence and a smile tugging irresistibly at his lips.
How could she resist? But she did, finger-combing her damp hair back from her face as she replied coolly, "Only if I get to drive."
His smile blossomed and his eyes grew smoky behind sleepy black lashes. Bracing the scooter with his feet, he pushed himself back and up onto the pillion seat and lifted his hands from the handlebars. "She's all yours," he murmured, laughing softly.
'"There was a young lady from Niger…who smiled as she rode with a tiger…'" Rhia muttered under her breath as she settled onto the front part of the seat. A seat which seemed very small, suddenly, altogether too small for two people to sit on at the same time. At least, not without a great deal of body contact.
"What's that?" His voice was a furry growl so close to the nape of her neck that it made shivers cascade in rivers down her back.
"Nothing," she breathed. She tested the reach and the foot pedals, then started up the motor and clicked into gear.
"That's right, you do like to be on top, don't you?" Nikolas murmured in her ear as she guided the scooter skillfully out of the courtyard. "I'll have to keep that in mind."
What had she been thinking? Thoughts that made her scalp sizzle. With him sitting so close behind her, she felt as if she'd been wrapped in a Nikolas-cocoon, steeped in Essence of Donovan. His heartbeat thumped against her back, his body heat melded with hers, his scent filled her head with sultry, sweaty images of tangled bodies… hers and his in wicked disarray…
Her jaws locked and her eyes squinted as she fought to keep her attention focused on the operation of the scooter as it grumbled impatiently through the farmhouse grounds. It whined with excitement as she accelerated down the lane, and came to a purring stop where the dirt lane met the paved road. "Where to?" she asked in a voice that held strange vibrations not caused by the scooter.
"Left." Nikolas said.
"Right," she said, and pushed off, accelerating into the turn. And felt his arms come around her and hold on tight.
"Watch it," she muttered desperately between clenched teeth. "Do you want us to have an accident?"
His laughter rippled down her spine. "My love, it's precisely in anticipation of that possibility that I'm hanging on to you for dear life."
"That had better not be a criticism of my driving, Donovan." With a grim smile she shifted gears and the scooter leaped forward. The wind snatched the breath from her lungs and forced Nikolas to reply in a shout.
"Not at all. I'm more than impressed, actually."
"I had one of these things when I was in high school," she shouted back. "Well, not a Honda-a Vespa, oddly enough. My father bought it for me for my sixteenth birthday Oh, hell-" She broke off as her rapidly drying hair began to whip in the wind, lashing her neck and, she was sure, Nikolas's face as well.
Good-serves him right, she thought as she slowed the scooter for an approaching crossroads. Serves him right…for what? Being too damned attractive? You're the one who insisted on driving.
She let go of one handlebar to try to corral her hair, and felt his hands there already. Felt his hands, both of them, gather her hair and gently twist it…lift it away from her neck.
"Mmm, your hair smells good," he murmured. Something-his lips, his mouth, his breath-brushed her nape.
Her spine contracted involuntarily; shivers shot through her like Fourth of July sparks. And to her embarrassment, the scooter's idling engine chose that moment to sputter and die.
"Dammit, Nik." She'd intended more anger, more force behind it. Why did it have to sound so feeble?
For a long moment, Nikolas didn't reply. Something in her voice… How could he have made this confident, capable woman sound so desperate? So vulnerable? What was driving him. lately, that he kept behaving in ways so out of character for him-or. for the Nikolas Donovan he'd always thought himself to be?
Blame it on my bad angel, I guess.
The thought made him smile. It was what Phillipe's maman had called it. on those rare occasions when he'd gotten into mischief during his stays with Phillipe's family. You have been listening to your Bad Angel, Nikki. You must not listen to him. Listen only to your Good Angel. He will never make you do things you will later regret.
He let out a short gust of laughter and lifted his arms away from Rhia. shifted so there was space between his body and hers. As if he'd released a switch of some kind, the scooter's engine immediately snarled to life, and as it shot forward, this time he held on to the scooter instead of its driver.
Listening to his good angel, he managed to maintain the distance and keep his hands away from Rhia for the rest of the trip, leaning close only to make his voice heard as he guided her along the familiar route. Strange, though…the more space he put between his body and hers, the more he felt himself drawn to her. compelled by that same odd magnetism he'd felt first in the kitchen of Phillipe's flat in Paris. An attraction he felt certain even now had very little to do with sex-although it did affect him in some of the same ways…