A darkly dressed figure separated itself from the shadows at the end of the jetty. Madeline’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. She turned, ready to defend herself, but before she could act Toby hooked an arm around her waist and shoved her behind him so fast she almost fell off her four-inch heels. Her heart skipped for an altogether different reason when she recognized their “assailant.”
Tension drained from her muscles. “Dominic. What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” Dominic’s hair was slightly mussed and beard stubble shadowed his jaw. His gaze took in Toby’s protective stance and his eyes narrowed.
Was that a possessive glint in his eyes? Darn the darkness. She couldn’t tell. And it didn’t matter anyway. Never in her life had she been more conscious of the countdown on her days with Dominic.
She stepped around Toby. “I don’t think you two were introduced the night of the ball. Dominic, this is Toby Haynes, an American NASCAR car driver and team owner. Toby, Dominic Rossi, Prince of Montagnarde.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Dominic offered his hand. Madeline glanced from Dominic to Toby and back as the men shook hands. Had the testosterone tide swept in? And then with a sharp nod each man released simultaneously. Had she missed something?
Madeline touched Toby’s forearm and Dominic stiffened beside her. For Pete’s sake, he couldn’t be jealous? Could he?
She knew Dominic cared about her. No man could be as passionate and unselfish a lover without some feelings for his partner, but love? Of course not. They both knew this was a dead-end relationship.
So why did a thrill race through her? She blinked away her irrational thoughts and blamed them on that last glass of champagne—the one she’d had to try because someone told her a single bottle of Krug Clos du Mesnil cost more than her monthly mortgage payment.
“Toby, I’m going to take a rain check on your offer of an escort back to the hotel.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Good night and thanks. See you tomorrow.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Toby pivoted and headed back toward the yacht.
“Why will you see him tomorrow?”
“A wedding thing. Why are you really here, Dominic?”
“I was impatient for your company.”
“Good answer.”
His gaze caressed the deep décolletage of her halter-neck gown. “You look lovely. Very sexy. Very beddable.”
Her n**ples tightened in response to the desire in his eyes and his voice. “Thank you.”
She glanced around. “I don’t see Ian. Usually, I can spot him.”
Was that a guilty flush on his cheekbones? “He’s not here.”
Surprise and concern rippled over her. “Voluntarily? Because the guy hates to let you out of his sight. I swear he’d be in the bedroom with us if given a choice. He still doesn’t trust me.”
Dominic’s teeth flashed white in the moonlight, but his tight smile didn’t completely erase the strain deepening the lines on his face. “He feels he failed me where you’re concerned and it disturbs him.”
He took her hand in his and guided her away from the harbor. “I used to be very good at giving Ian the slip. I decided to see if I still could.”
“Hmm. So you have a few drops of rebel in your blue blood. I like that. And Fernand?”
“I informed him you’d been invited to spend the night on the yacht.”
“I was. But I declined. As you well know.” Amelia, Candace and Stacy had accepted. She glanced up and down the uncrowded area. Parts of Monaco rocked late into the night. This wasn’t one of them. “Is it safe—for you, I mean—to wander the streets alone?”
Dominic shrugged. “Monaco is the safest country in the world. And I’m wearing tracking devices and carrying a panic button.”
“So what’s the plan? I’m guessing you didn’t sneak out just to sneak back in again.”
“Have I mentioned that I find your intelligence a turn-on?”
Her pulse spiked. “At least a dozen times. So what gives?”
“I’d like to walk through Monaco-Ville and enjoy the musicians and magicians of the Midsummer Night’s Festival.” He studied her shoes. “Or should we find a piano bar and sit?”
“Lucky for you, my shoes are not the kamikaze kind despite the stiletto heels.” What had he told her? He wanted to feel like a man instead of a monarch? There weren’t many gifts she could give a prince, but she could handle that request. She looped her arm through his. “Let’s walk—if you’re sure it’s safe.”
His hand covered hers on his forearm. He held her gaze. “I would never do anything to endanger you, Madeline.”
“I know. You’re a prince of a guy,” she replied tongue in cheek. “Besides, you know you’ll get lucky if you get me back to the hotel safely.”
Dominic choked a laugh, dragged her into a shadowy alcove and covered her mouth with his. She mmmphed a protest through smiling lips, but dug her fingers into his waist and pulled him closer. Her smile faded as the heat of his body seeped into hers and hunger for Dominic took control of her brain. His lips were firm and his kisses hard and desperate with a dangerous edge that stopped just shy of being too rough.
The unusual aggression turned her on like nobody’s business. By the time he lifted his head her heart raced and her legs quivered like a marathon runner’s after crossing the finish line.
He leaned his forehead against hers and sucked in deep breaths. “Your puns are terrible. Stick to medicine.”
“Your wish is my command, Your Royal Buffness,” she replied with a wink and curtsied as she often had during the past five days. She only did it because she’d discovered how much kowtowing irritated him. As usual her smart-aleck quip made him chuckle. Good. She wanted to ease whatever somber mood had taken hold of him.
They strolled through the streets of Monaco-Ville for over an hour enjoying music, magic and sharing vendor foods like any other couple. But that was the catch. They weren’t like any other couple and never could be. Tonight was a stolen moment—one they’d never repeat. The realization saddened Madeline enough to make her eyes burn and her chest hurt.
Dominic must have misinterpreted her silence as tiredness, for he waved down a taxi to carry them back to the hotel. When they arrived he silently escorted her inside, and then backed her against the wainscoted elevator wall, cradled her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes.
“I will never forget our time together.” The gravity of his voice made the fine hairs on her body rise.
“Neither will I.”
And then he kissed her. She knew she was in trouble because she couldn’t hold him tight enough, couldn’t burrow close enough. And she didn’t want to let him go.
Oh, my God. I’m falling for him. Her stomach plunged as if the elevator had dropped to the basement. She gasped and broke the kiss.
The doors opened on the penthouse floor. Dominic threaded his fingers through hers and stepped toward the doors, but Madeline’s muscles refused to engage. Had she been fooling herself by believing she could have an affair without her heart getting involved?
No. No. It’s not love. It’s only a crush. A crush due to circumstances, romantic settings, a man larger than life and a surplus of sexual satisfaction. “Madeline?”
She blinked and swallowed. She wasn’t dumb enough to fall for a prince. Was she?
Nope. Not love. Her rapid pulse, quickening breaths and the tension swirling in her belly were by-products of sexual arousal. Nothing more. And her chest ached only because Dominic had become a friend—a friend she’d soon have to say goodbye to.
Mentally kick-starting her muscles into motion, she traveled down the corridor beside him, tiptoed into the suite and then his bedroom. The covers looked rumpled, as if Dominic had been in bed but unable to sleep before coming after her. The bedside lamp cast a dim glow over the room. The digital clock read 2:00 a.m. She’d been up since 5:00 a.m. and should be exhausted, but energy hummed through her veins.
Behind her, the door lock clicked. She turned her head.
Dominic leaned against the panel with his hands behind his back. “Undress for me.”
“Is that a royal command?”
“Need it be?”
“You first.”
His lips twitched. He shook his head, but kicked off his shoes and reached for his belt. “Some man needs to tame you.”
“Pfft. That’ll never happen.”
“I know. It’s part of your charm.” The belt slid free. He tossed it aside. “Your turn.”
The longer this took the more time she’d have with him. Tomorrow—today—was Saturday. Candace didn’t have a meeting and Madeline didn’t have to be anywhere until noon. She and Dominic could sleep the morning away if they wanted. She kicked off her shoes and removed the silver clip from her hair.
Dominic removed his watch. She mirrored the action.
Without a word Dominic fisted his shirt, yanked the tails free and then reached beneath the fabric to unfasten his pants. His trousers slid to the floor. He kicked them aside.
All she could see was his great legs beneath the shirttail hem. “Tease. Two can play that game.”
She reached beneath her dress and removed her panties. She shot them toward him like a rubber band. He caught the scrap of black lace, crushed it in his hand and stroked it across his cheek. He dropped her panties and shoved his briefs to the floor. A kick piled them on top of his discarded pants.
She released the button fastening the halter top of her dress at her nape and squared her shoulders. The black satin fabric fell to her waist, revealing her br**sts.
Dominic’s sharply indrawn breath broke the silence of the room. He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling with a few of the buttons as if his fingers refused to cooperate, and then ripped it off and flung it aside, leaving him nak*d. His thick arousal rose from a tangle of dark golden curls. A bead of moisture glistened on the tip.
She wet her lips, curled her fingers against the need to stroke him and turned her back. “Zip?”
She didn’t hear him approach. Her first inkling that he had was the touch of his lips on her shoulder, and then his hands spanned her waist and slid up to cup her br**sts. He rolled the tightened tips in his fingers. Desire coiled tightly between her legs. She leaned against him. His hard, hot erection pressed against her spine and his beard stubble erotically rasped her neck as he sipped a string of kisses on her skin. He murmured something in a language she couldn’t understand.
She lifted a hand to cradle his face, stroke his bristly jaw and trace his soft, parted lips. She turned her head and whispered against his lips, “No fair. Speak English.”
He ignored her request, lowered her zipper and pushed her dress from her hips. And then he pulled her flush against him and bound her close with his strong arms.
She’d miss this. His strength. His gentleness. His passion. The radiator-hot warmth of his hard body against her, surrounding her.
He stroked and caressed her, her br**sts, her belly, her bottom and finally, the knot of need between her legs. Her muscles quivered with each deft stroke. She could barely stand. And then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Madeline gasped. She’d never had a man literally sweep her off her feet. And she liked it.