The Prince Who Charmed Her. Fiona McArthur

‘I think she has had enough surprises.’

      Stefano had to give the man respect. Loyalty was a good thing, and despite his own misgivings he could not grudge Kiki her friend’s championship. Though his cousin, who owed Stefano many favours, did own this shipping line.

      His fingers loosened. Relax. Let it go. He, too, cared that Kiki was not upset. ‘It is not my intention to distress her.’

      Hobson met his gaze head-on. ‘Good.’

      Enough. His day had soured and the pain in his hip from his reckless descent down the stairs was annoying him. ‘And good day to you, Dr Hobson.’

      Stefano pressed the button for the lift with remarkable restraint, not stupid enough to brave an ascent of twelve floors despite his sudden frustrated desire for explosive energy. The lift doors opened and, as if conjured, Kiki stood waiting to alight.

      ‘Just the person.’ Wonderful how good humour could be instantly restored. ‘One moment, please, Dr Fender.’ He could not believe his good luck—finally—and gestured for her to wait. With a relief he was careful not to show he stepped in beside her as she hesitated.

      Kiki couldn’t believe her bad luck. So close to being safe. ‘What if I was on my way to work?’

      He shrugged those shoulders that still made her weak at the knees. Damn him. It was so hard to not to stare and just remember.

      ‘I have been told you are not working for a few hours.’

      His voice always had made her mouth dry, and now was no exception. What was the scientific reason for that? She searched a little desperately for distraction as she watched him press the lift button for the sixteenth floor.

      Of course he had looked for her in the hospital. If only she hadn’t run down for a quick chat with Will.

      The doors began to close and for a moment she did consider diving out before the doors shut, like some female secret agent with a barrel roll in her repertoire—but she’d just look awkward, and probably get sandwiched by the doors.

      Or, a hundred times worse, he’d put out his hand and touch her, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs. That was what had happened the first time. He’d laid his hand on her arm to help her from the car and she’d woken up in bed with him. And stayed there for a week.

      That left the smart mouth as her only defence. ‘So where are we going?’ As if she didn’t know.

      He didn’t reply, and she remembered that. The frustrating habits of a man used to answering questions he felt inclined to and ignoring the rest. A prince with his own agenda unless it was for his family. Lucky him.

      She stared straight ahead at the doors of the lift as if they’d magically open and she could float out to safety somewhere in the stairwell. She could feel his eyes on her.

      ‘Why are you on this ship anyway, Your Highness?’

      She heard him sigh. ‘Do you call me that to annoy me?’

      Now she glanced at him. Sugared her voice. ‘Is it working?’

      He looked at her from under his own raised brows, and then in the ultimate retaliation he smiled. Blinded, she felt it rip open the wound she’d healed so diligently over the last months aboard ship. Blast, blast and double blast. She needed to get away.

      She’d fallen in lust with him the first time she’d seen him. Only lust. Love wouldn’t have ended as it had.

      Stefano had smiled at her then, as if they shared a secret, when she’d been late for her last surgical day in the operating theatres because of car trouble. He’d been a guest consultant of her boss, and should have chastised her like all the other consultants would have done, but instead he’d shown her surgical techniques she’d never thought to witness.

      Later, he’d bought her coffee, plied her with cake to replace her missed breakfast, and invited her to ride home with him at the end of the day. When his hand had touched hers she’d been stunned like a landed fish, all big glassy eyes and floppy with desire.

      And she knew where that had led.

      The flicker of the number lights speeding upwards brought her back to the present and her sense of impending danger grew exponentially. This wasn’t sensible. Or safe. Though she wasn’t sure who she was more afraid of. Him or herself.

      ‘I don’t want to go anywhere with you.’

      She thought for a moment she’d actually hurt him. There was just a flicker behind his eyes … But that was a joke. Instead he sighed as if she were a troublesome child, or probably just a troublesome subject.

      ‘I will not keep you long.’

      ‘Well, I know that.’

      This time he did flinch. She saw it. Good, he felt guilty—even though he didn’t know how guilty he should feel. But she was tired of scoring points or second-guessing his intentions. She just wanted to forget she’d seen him again and re-grow the scar tissue so she could complete her healing.

      When the lift stopped she planted her feet more solidly on the spot. He waited for her to pass him and when she didn’t lifted his hand to direct her. She stepped out of his way and back against the wall so fast his hand fell.

      ‘No.’ She licked dry lips. ‘Goodbye, Prince Stefano. Have a good life.’

      There. She’d said it. What she hadn’t had a chance to say nine months ago. Now it was done. Finished.

      Except he didn’t get out, and the silence lengthened.

      Without direction from them the lift doors shut and the chamber began its descent to another level.

      His voice was mild. Slightly amused. ‘So, are we to ride up and down in the lift all day until you wish to get out?’

      She stepped further to the left of him. ‘Leave me alone, Stefano.’

      He didn’t lift his hand again, but his voice reached out to her. She tried to imagine a soft ball of cotton wool jamming her ears to mute the sound—it didn’t work.

      ‘Is a few minutes of your time so much to ask? A chance to apologise, explain a little, and then we may part as friends—or less, if that is what you wish.’

      She didn’t know how much more of this power struggle she could take before those damn tears she could feel prickling behind her eyes made their escape.

      She could get out on another floor, stride away, and then spend the day dreading what could be over in a few minutes if she just faced it. Over and done with. Great theory, but what if it wasn’t? She still wasn’t sure who she trusted least.

      The silence lengthened. The lift stopped and began to go down further. ‘For goodness’ sake. Must you get your own way in everything?’ She stepped forward and stabbed the light for the sixteenth floor. The little button rattled with the force. ‘Get it over with.’ The lift whooshed upwards again.

      Stefano winced. This was not how he had expected it would turn out. A polite thank-you, a question as to whether she was well, an apology because he had had to leave so abruptly the last time they’d been together, and—most importantly—he would see that he was not as attracted to the flesh and blood woman as his imagination had assured him. Then he could move on to his duty.

      In fact, to his discomfort, the desire for Kiki back in his arms, and most assuredly in his bed, was growing stronger by the second.

      Perhaps he should have stepped out of the lift on his own after all. But how was that going to help his predicament?

      The lift doors opened again and he extended his arm against the doors to hold them. ‘After you.’

      ‘Are you? Not again, I hope,’ she muttered, and he had to bite back the smile.

      This was the woman who had captured his attention over that long-ago week. With her tiny