The Scandalous Princess. Кейт Хьюит

Ben knew he was sensitive about his family. Protective of his mother and sisters. How could he not be, when the press loved to lambast or ridicule them on an almost daily basis? And yet Princess Natalia courted that kind of coverage. The thought made him feel sick. How could a woman like her affect him this way? Make him want so much?

      Today her snooty princess routine had also annoyed him, more than it should have, perhaps. He’d expected her time here would take her down a peg or two, not polish her pedestal. He hadn’t counted on his staff being wide-eyed and tongue-tied in her presence, or Natalia acting like some kind of Grace Kelly.

      Yet even so, he shouldn’t be so bothered. He knew it wasn’t just Natalia’s workplace behaviour that was bothering him. Hell, he’d expected that. He certainly hadn’t thought she’d meekly slot herself into the office and be anything close to efficient or productive. He’d thought he’d even enjoy seeing her flounder a bit, watching her get nowhere with her airs and graces.

      No, something else was making him hot under the collar, and he knew just what it was. Desire. Princess Natalia Santina was a beautiful woman. At the engagement party her charms had been obvious in a tiny, silver spangled dress that barely covered her bottom. He’d taken in those hazel cat’s eyes, lithe curves and endless legs and felt an expected kick of lust, easy to dismiss.

      Yet today when she’d leaned across his desk and he’d seen the T-shirt stretch across her breasts, when he breathed in the citrusy scent of her perfume, something clean and fresh he hadn’t expected, when his gaze was inevitably drawn to her again and again, he felt more than just a normal kick of lust. He felt a deeper twist of longing he wasn’t ready to acknowledge, much less feel. When he saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes, when her pointed quips made him want to smile, when he enjoyed her company … he felt that longing inside of him twist harder and start to snap.

      Control. He was losing it. He didn’t want to want this woman. In any way. He had enough to do arranging this camp, managing his own business and making sure his siblings stayed on a steady course. He didn’t need the complication of a woman—any woman, but especially one as dangerously high-profile as Princess Natalia.

      Far better to steer clear of her except in the office, or he’d see himself splashed across the tabloids like the rest of his family, and that was the last thing he wanted.

      Straightening, he pulled a sheaf of papers towards him and determined to work for the rest of the afternoon—and not give the aggravating princess another thought.

      He stayed in his office until after seven, immersed in his work. He heard the muted farewells of the others leaving, the sound of the door closing, when he decided to finish up back at the beach house he’d rented for his time on the island. His equilibrium mostly restored, Ben grabbed his attaché and opened his office door, stopping abruptly when he saw Natalia still bent over the filing cabinet.

      The first thing he noticed was the way her skirt pulled across the rounded curve of her bottom. Then he jerked his gaze upwards and realised she was still filing away. The thought shocked him, for if she was still here it meant she hadn’t been slow on purpose. So what was really going on? Ben had no idea, but this perplexing insight into the woman he wanted to dismiss made him pause. Frown.

      She straightened and, seeming to sense his presence, turned. Ben noticed her guarded expression, her eyes veiled before she tilted her head and gave him a flirty smile. That was the expression he was used to seeing, yet it didn’t ring true right now.

      ‘You didn’t have to stay late.’

      Natalia lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug. ‘I wanted to get the job done.’ She glanced at the remaining few files. ‘I’ve decided I despise filing.’

      ‘It is a bit tedious.’

      ‘That too.’ She tucked a strand of wheat-blonde hair behind her ear and turned back to the cabinet.

      Ben saw how stiff her shoulders were, her whole body nearly vibrating with tension. She also looked exhausted, and to his own shock he found himself saying, ‘Let me finish it.’

      ‘I can do it—’ she insisted, surprisingly fierce, but Ben had already slotted the remaining files into the cabinet and closed the drawer. It had taken less than a minute. Why, he wondered, had it taken her hours? Surely even the most incompetent person could manage it quicker than that. Yet looking at her drawn face and shadowed eyes he didn’t think it had been some kind of revenge. She’d actually, in her own way, been trying.

      ‘So you finished your first day,’ he said lightly. He had come to stand quite close to her in order to finish the filing, and he was conscious of her slender form, the sweep of her satiny cheek, the way her chest rose and fell. He took a step back. ‘Congratulations.’