Prince's Pleasure. Carole Mortimer

a little better.

      Although, she had to admit, the thought of meeting Zak Prince again at eight o’clock this evening was enough to make her feel ill all over again!

      * * *

      ‘You’re looking good,’ Zak complimented her as he opened the door to his hotel suite at exactly eight o’clock that evening and saw a transformed Tyler standing outside.

      She did look good. Very good, in fact. The red dress she wore clung in all the right places as it emphasized pert breasts and the curve of her hips—she was obviously wearing very little clothing underneath the figure-hugging dress. Its above-knee length showed off a long expanse of shapely tanned legs, and the high heels on the matching red shoes she wore added a good three inches to her diminutive height.

      His practised eye told him she was wearing more make-up than usual too—those dark lashes surrounding her huge brown eyes looking longer and silkier than ever, a delicate blush emphasizing her cheekbones, and a red gloss on her lips adding to their fullness.

      ‘Dressed for battle, hmm?’ he guessed.

      ‘A party, I thought,’ she came back lightly as she walked past him into the suite.

      Zak grinned appreciatively as he turned to watch the sway of her hips. He hadn’t been quite sure what to expect when Tyler arrived this evening—the spitfire of their first and second meeting, or the young woman this morning who had seemed confused and not a little upset at their response to each other in bed; he certainly hadn’t been expecting this beautiful siren. She had obviously sat back when she’d got home earlier, regrouped, and this dynamically beautiful woman was the result.

      ‘You’re looking pretty good yourself,’ she returned the compliment as her gaze travelled slowly up the length of his body.

      Zak frowned, finding he was uncomfortable with the way Tyler had looked at him with such feminine assessment as she took in his appearance in the cream silk shirt and brown trousers he wore this evening. As he had looked at her own changed appearance seconds ago in the red dress with complete male assessment…? Hell, yes, but—But nothing. What was good enough for him, her challenging gaze now said, was good enough for her, too.

      There was more, much more, it seemed, to Tyler Wood than he had at first given her credit for…

      ‘Thanks,’ he accepted as casually as he could. ‘I won’t bother to offer you a drink before we leave—we both know where that could lead!’ he taunted, blue eyes challenging her now.

      Tyler didn’t even blink at his deliberate reminder of last night and this morning. ‘You mentioned that we would be having dinner before the party…?’

      ‘O’Malley’s.’ He nodded. ‘If that’s okay with you?’

      ‘Oh, I think I’ll be able to cope,’ she said dryly.

      The restaurant he had chosen was the in-place at the moment, a cross between an Irish pub and a superb English-cuisine restaurant. But, despite what Tyler might think to the contrary, that wasn’t the reason Zak had chosen it. O’Malley’s was more relaxed than the other fashionable London eateries, and Zak didn’t particularly enjoy dining in formal restaurants. From the brief time he had spent in Tyler’s company, he hadn’t thought she would either, but her appearance this evening told him very firmly that she would be comfortable no matter what her surroundings.

      ‘Good,’ he said as he opened the door for her to leave, still feeling strangely wrong-footed by this stunning woman—something that didn’t happen to him too often, he had to admit.

      He caught a faint whiff of her perfume as she moved smoothly past him out into the corridor, a heady mixture of clean flesh and that elusively floral concoction.

      Tyler was most definitely not his type, he told himself firmly as he accompanied her to the lift. For one thing he abhorred short hair on a woman—he couldn’t stand that almost as much as the unfeminine combat trousers Tyler had worn yesterday. Worst of all, she was that loathed of all things, a reporter!

      Then why, if he disliked all those things about her, had the memory of her this morning, soft and pliant in his arms, her body warm and inviting, been intruding into his thoughts all day?