Six Of The Best Of Desire 2016. Maisey Yates

strain in her cheeks.

      She’d had a helluva long day. Fainted. Found out she was pregnant with twins. And she still had not gotten her damn chili dog.

      There was a lot going on.

      He could cut her some slack, give her space to collect herself. It was no use pushing so hard while she was emotional. And she had every right to be. Hell, he’d been upset tonight, too, uncharacteristically irritated with his father.

      So he would revise his approach until cooler heads prevailed. This tactic to get her to stay was not the right one. She’d dismissed it out of hand.

      Who could blame her, though? He’d given her no real reason to stay. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Erika Mitras was a woman who did not need him for anything. She could afford the best care and doctors for her pregnancy the same as he could. She would have highly qualified help with day-to-day care in her homeland.

      But what she hadn’t realized yet was that they were so damn good together. There was something between them, a small spark that could be more. And they had the children to consider.

      Rather than insist she stay, he’d convince her. Which meant she was in for some grade A romancing. That was something he could give her that she couldn’t just find in a store.

      He would win her the old-fashioned way. Because like hell if he was losing his children. Missing out on the lives of his offspring simply wasn’t an option. He’d make sure of that.

      * * *

      The next evening Erika still could not make sense of what had happened the night before. But no matter which way she spun Gervais’s actions in her bed last night, nothing made sense. She’d been so sure that he wanted her. That he felt that same sharp tug of attraction between them, but his decision to simply walk away and let her go to bed alone had left her surprised. Confused. Aching. Wanting.

      He hadn’t mentioned the baby issue at all the whole day, then he surprised her with this dinner date, a night out in the city they called the Big Easy.

      Draping an arm along the white-painted wrought-iron railing of the patio, her hand kept time to the peppy jazz music playing. She hadn’t realized her head nodded along to the trumpet until Gervais flashed her a smile.

      Heat flushed her cheeks as she turned her attention away from the very attractive man in front of her. She pushed around the last bite of her shrimp and andouille sausage, a spicy blend of flavors she’d quizzed their waiter about at length. Every course of her meal had been delicious.

      Attention snapping to the present, she caught a whiff of something that smelled a lot like baked chocolate and some kind of fruit. Maybe cherries, but she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that her senses were heightened lately.

      As were her emotions.

      What was Gervais up to with this perfect evening? Was he trying to charm her into changing her mind without discussing the logistical fact that he still moved too fast?

      Setting her fork down, she inclined her head to the meal. “Dinner was lovely. Thank you.”

      His dark eyes slid over her. One forearm lay on the crisp white linen tablecloth, his tanned hand close to where hers rested. He made her breath catch, and she felt sure she was not the only woman in the vicinity who was affected. She liked that he didn’t notice. That his gaze was only for her.

      “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. But the evening doesn’t have to end now.” His hand slid closer to hers on the table.

      Her tummy flipped. Did he mean—

      Standing, he folded her palm in his. “Let’s dance.”

      She was relieved, right?

      Oh, heavens, she was a mess.

      She took his hand, the warmth of his touch steadying her as he guided her over to the small teak dance floor. Briefly they were waylaid by an older couple who congratulated Gervais on the Hurricanes’ win the day before. But while he was gracious and polite, he didn’t linger, keeping his attention on her.

      On their date and this fairy-tale evening that Gervais had created for her.

      Beneath the tiny, gem-colored pendants, he pulled her into him as the slow, sultry jazz saxophone bayed. With ease, his right hand found the small of her back, and his left hand closed around her hand. As they began to sway, he tucked her against him, chest to chest underneath the din of the music and the lights.

      The scents and sounds were just a colorful blur, though, her senses attuned to Gervais. The warm heat of his body through his soft silk suit. His fingers flexing lightly on her back, his thumb grazing bare skin where a cutout in her dress left her exposed.

      She swallowed. Each fast breath of air she dragged in pressed her breasts to the hard wall of his chest, reminding her how well her body knew his. What would it be like to be with him now, with her senses so heightened? It had been incredible two and a half months ago.

      She couldn’t hold back a soft purr. She covered by saying, “The music is beautiful.”

      “It’s the heartbeat of our city. The rhythm the whole place moves to.”

      He whirled her past the bass player, where the deep vibrations hummed right through her feet.

      “There’s so much more about my hometown to show you beyond our sports. So much history and culture here. And of course, some amazing food.”

      Which she could still smell drifting on the breeze. The scent of spices thickened the air, making the heat of the evening seem more exotic than any of the places she’d ever been to during her stint in the military.

      “I cannot deny this Big Easy fascinates me.” She could lose herself in these brick-and-wrought-iron-laced streets, the scent of flowers heavy in the air. “But I want to be clear, as much as I enjoyed the food tonight, or how much I might like the sound of jazz, that is not going to make me automatically change my mind about your proposal. We have nothing in common.”

      His voice tickled in her ear, a murmur accompanying the jazz quartet. “Sure we do. We both come from big families with lots of siblings.”

      A shiver trembled along her skin, and she reminded herself it was just the pregnancy making her so susceptible to him. It had to be. No man could mesmerize a woman so thoroughly otherwise. Her hormones simply conspired against her.

      “I guess your family does qualify as American royalty.” She held up her end of the conversation, hoping he could not see the effect he had on her. “So that is one thing we have in common. Just minus the crowns.”

      “True. No tiaras here.” His head dipped closer to speak in her ear again. “Although thinking of you in a tiara and nothing more—that’s an image to die for.”

      She knew he joked. That did not stop her from imagining being naked with him.

      “An image that will have to remain in your mind only, since I do not pose for pictures. After what happened to my sister because of the sex tape with the prime minister,” she said, shuddering, “not a chance.”

      Gervais almost missed a step, though he recovered quickly enough.

      “Your sister was in a sex tape?”

      “You must be the only person in the world who did not see it.” That snippet of footage had almost ruined her family. The publicity was all the more difficult to deflect, since their monarchy was both defunct and not particularly wealthy. They’d had precious few resources to fight with.

      “Never mind.” Gervais shook his head, dismissing that conversation. “That’s beside the point. First, I wasn’t speaking literally. And second, I would never, never let you be at risk that way.”

      Her neck craned to look at him, eyes scanning his face. There was no amusement in her eyes. “Perhaps more to the point, I will not put myself at risk.”

      “You’re an independent princess. I like that.”