Princess of Estoria

She wanted to flee the room but couldn’t move. He hadn’t touched her, but he held her in place just the same, with dark blue eyes that didn’t leave her face.

“You had no right to come to my job,” she said tightly.

“I wanted to get your attention. I lasted five weeks before coming here, which I think is admirable.”

“You could have found another way. I’m easy enough to find for a man with your resources. Why didn’t you come to my house?”

“If I had done that, I would have scared you off. It would have been too much, yes? So I did the next best thing. I said I wanted your services, and by doing so, I knew you could not avoid me.”

“Whatever you’re planning won’t work.”

“I’m planning to hire your consulting firm. I need advice and recommendations on how to deal with the morale problem at A. Vasquez International. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Advise and recommend?” He arched a brow.

“You know exactly what I do.” Angela placed her hands on her hips. “I’m supposed to believe you’re here about management consulting? There are probably at least a dozen other firms you could contract with.”

“But none of them have Angela Lipscomb on staff.” His disarming smile almost melted her resolve, as well as her panties.

He came forward with graceful steps, and confidence oozed from his pores with each movement of his body. She held her breath, waiting for his next words.

“So, how is your nonexistent boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend is—”

“Don’t lie again. We both know what you’re about to say is not true.”

She paused. “All right, fine. I don’t have a boyfriend. Obviously I lied for a reason.”

“Care to tell me what that reason is? I know it has nothing to do with our chemistry, because you can’t deny, we have plenty.”

No argument there. “I told you already.”

“You don’t date famous men.”

“Yes.”

He blew a frustrated gust of air through his nose. His eyes narrowed. “And what should I do? Forget about us and pretend that nothing happened in Zamibia? I—”

“Nothing happened in Zamibia—”

“I can’t forget. I can’t sleep most nights for thinking about you.” Raw emotion vibrated in his voice. “You’re in my blood, Angela.”

Inexplicable pain wrenched her chest and she took a step back. “You shouldn’t be here, Andres.” She turned from him with a jerky movement and bumped her hip into the conference table. She winced at the pain.

He reached for her and then let his hand drop. “You act like you’re afraid of me. Are you?” His voice sounded strangled.

Not in the way you think. “No.” She rubbed her bruised hip. The tension was getting to her.

He gave her a speculative look. “You’re still angry because I didn’t tell you right away that I am a prince.”

“A little detail you forgot.”

“I was wrong.” He edged closer. “Have dinner with me and explain your feelings. Go into detail about your anger. Then I can beg for your forgiveness and you can put me out of my misery.”

Tempting. Very tempting. She shook her head against the dizzying seduction of his voice. “No.”

Andres may not be very well known in the United States, but he was known throughout Europe. He lived under a microscope. She’d seen how chaotic the life of her friend Dahlia became even before she married Prince Kofi. She saw how the royal family of the UK was hounded by reporters and photographers everywhere they went. That was no life to live. She wanted no part of it.

Though she complained about her career often, she had a good-paying job, and no one knew about the stains in the fabric of her family background. There were no photographers lurking in the bushes and no reporters rewarded for digging up dirt.

She stepped backward, out of his orbit and the draining battle to lean into him. “If you want to do business with us, that’s fine. Anything else is out of the question.”

Andres studied her for a moment. A rueful smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “What’s between us isn’t over. You know it, and I know it. But for now we’ll focus on the business at hand. How about dinner, to discuss your ideas? Not a date.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Absolutely. We’ll call it a meeting,” he said with a disarming smile.

“To be clear, I don’t date clients.”

“That’s very wise, but is that rule bendable at all?”

She wanted to laugh but felt she’d be better off being firm with him. She suspected the moment he sensed she was weakening, he’d press even harder and have her second-guessing her no-famous-men rule.

“No,” she said archly.

“Demasiado. Too bad,” he said with a disappointed frown.

She ignored his pitiful face. “Where would you like me to meet you?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“I can meet you. This isn’t a date.”

“Nonetheless, allow me to be a gentleman and pick you up at your home.”

Edgar chose that moment to reenter the room. “All right, I have the contract right here.”

If he noticed the tension, he didn’t let on. He handed the papers and a pen to Andres, who quickly reviewed the contract. Afterward, he took a seat and signed and initialed everywhere that Edgar told him, set the pen on the table, and then came to his feet again.

“Looks like we’re in business,” Edgar said as they shook hands. “You can expect to hear from Angela by the middle of next week. She’ll do some research and prepare a report with the first steps for you.”

“Sounds good. Before you came in, Angela and I were having a conversation about my schedule. I have a lot of ground to cover while I’m here. I’m in meetings most of the day and have to take a trip to South America. Because of my hectic schedule, she agreed to meet me for dinner to share the report with me. I hope you can accommodate my schedule.”

Smart. By roping in Edgar, he ensured she’d show up.

“We can accommodate you with no problem,” Edgar assured him.

“Good.” Andres looked at Angela. “I cannot wait to get started.”