His Royal Pleasure. Leanne Banks

I’d like to work for room and board until the end of the month.”

      Katherine mentally cursed her half brother and picked up a pencil. “Al, you arrived here last night, drunk and passed out. I don’t really see how I can hire you on that basis.”

      “I arrived here passed out because I happened into a bottle of whiskey aimed for your brother’s head. I was not drunk.”

      He stood and dropped the paper napkin into the trash. Then he looked directly at her. “Have you been unhappy with my performance today?”

      Katherine leaned back in her chair. “Well, no.”

      “Are you short-staffed?”

      She resisted the urge to squirm. “Yes.”

      He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Take me on a trial basis.”

      Her chest squeezed tight. What woman wouldn’t take him? He was the kind of man women made fools of themselves over. If she had erotic dreams, he would be the kind of lover she’d dream of. His hands would be slow and sure, his mouth both giving and ruthless, his voice low and urgent. She shivered.

      “Trial basis,” she repeated weakly.

      “Yes.” He glanced away from her, suddenly appearing tired. “I’m rather…”

      “…down on your luck at the moment,” she supplied for him.

      His dark eyes held wry, weary amusement. “So, you’re not only beautiful, you’re also perceptive.” He bent over the desk and took her fidgeting hand. “What have you got to lose?”

      Katherine’s cheeks heated at the feeling of her hand enveloped within his larger one. Beautiful? Lord, he’s good, she thought. She pulled her hand away and cleared her throat.

      She couldn’t say what tipped the scales in his favor. Maybe it was the fact that he’d worked so hard this afternoon. It might have been that she wondered if she’d misjudged him. What if he wasn’t a con man and needed help? Katherine was sensitive to unfairness, having taken too many cheap shots from the tabloids over her ex-husband’s affairs.

      But what really affected her was the way his posture screamed confidence while his eyes revealed flashes of something deeper and more human.

      “One week’s trial,” she finally said, and watched him relax slightly.

      “You won’t regret it.”

      Katherine gave a grim smile and prayed.

      Katherine awoke to darkness and the sound of someone scratching on her window screen. After a moment of terror she recognized old Mr. Larson’s husky voice. He wanted to borrow fishing lures from her uncle and had forgotten Jasper was gone for the summer. Katherine promised to find them, and Mr. Larson said he’d be back in twenty minutes.

      Pushing her hair from her face, she crept from her room to the hall closet. She shined the flashlight up the shelves to the top one and sighed. There sat the tackle box.

      She tiptoed to the kitchen and grabbed a bar stool. After positioning it in front of the closet, she climbed on top and reached for the box.

      “What are you doing?” a low voice said behind her.

      Startled, Katherine gave a muffled squeak. The bar stool shifted. She panicked until the stool was steadied and a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

      She took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

      “That’s what I asked you,” Al said. “Do you know what time it is?”

      “No. And please don’t tell me. I’ve got to get fishing lures for Mr. Larson. He and Uncle Jasper always go fishing together this time of year.” She moaned. “They’d leave about four o’clock in the morning.”

      “You’re close. It’s actually—”

      “I said don’t tell me.”

      His chuckle rumbled pleasantly out of the darkness. His arm felt warm around her. She’d rested her hand on it and could feel his flexed muscles. Her back absorbed the sensation of his hard chest pressed against her. His musky male scent made her lightheaded. The darkness covered them like a blanket, and their hushed voices made the situation feel oddly erotic.

      “Let me go.”

      “No. You might fall.”

      She started to argue, then realized it would be faster just to grab the tackle box and get down. She turned around with the tackle box in her hand. Al took it, and before she could bend down, he picked her up. She clutched his shoulders and slid down his body, feeling his bare chest against her breasts. Her hair shimmied over one of his shoulders.

      She looked into his face, and everything stopped. Her mind, her heart, her breath. Somewhere in her conscience the hint of a melody, stirring and poignant, teased her. At that moment all she could do was stand still inside his arms and watch.

      With one arm still wrapped around her waist, he picked up the long lock of hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “It’s so long,” he mused.

      Katherine’s mouth went dry. “I—I keep saying I’m going to cut it.”

      “No, it’s you. Long red hair, slim little body, lots of warm smiles.”

      She sucked in a deep, desperate breath. Laughing nervously, she tried to step back. “How do you know anything about me? You just met me.”

      He released her slowly, and she could make out the intent look in his eyes even in the darkness. “You learn by watching and listening. I’ve done both.”

      “Oh,” she said. She shook back the distracting hair, relieved to be out of his arms.

      “Why are you managing this place on your own?” he asked.

      “My uncle had a heart attack. I’m the only one he trusts.”

      “But you don’t like it.”

      That stopped her. “Does it show that much?” She sighed. “I teach first grade during the school year and head up the children’s programs for Pirate Island during the summer. Jasper’s heart attack caught all of us by surprise.” She shrugged. “I may not be a wonderful manager, but I think with a little help I can hold things together until he decides what he wants to do.”

      “It’s a heavy responsibility.”

      “Yeah.” Katherine grinned and picked up the tackle box. “But I’m tough.”

      He put his hand on hers. “Let me take that.”

      “I can handle it,” she insisted.

      “I’m sure you can.”

      Katherine stared at him to see if he was making fun of her. But his gaze was serious. “Okay. Just put it on the front porch, please.”

      She set the barstool back in the kitchen. “See ya in the morning,” she whispered.

      “That will be in about two hours,” Al said.

      Katherine moaned. “Don’t rub it in.”

      After she closed her door and settled into bed, Katherine stared at the ceiling. She wasn’t sure about Al Sanders. Too many things didn’t add up.

      Who was he? Why was he staying on Pirate Island? Why did she care? She wrestled with the questions until she finally fell asleep.

      Then she dreamed she danced in the dark. She couldn’t quite make out the face of her partner, but his shoulders were broad, his arms strong, and the music she heard touched a tender, vulnerable place inside her.

      Chapter Two

      Katherine hung up the phone and stared at it. She felt as if she’d just committed a murder.

      It was the right