Prince of Midtown / Marriage, Manhattan Style. Jennifer Lewis

thousand years old.

      That was a landmark.

      He flung the envelope back on the pile and lifted his foot to step over the bag he’d dropped in the foyer the night before. He’d gone straight from the plane to the office to an all-night party and hadn’t had time to unpack. It was inconvenient having no one to do it for him.

      But the bag wasn’t there.

      Did he hear voices?

      He did. Female voices.

      Interesting. Especially since he hadn’t brought anyone home last night.

      Anticipation pricked through him as he walked down the marble-floored hallway toward the living room.

      A familiar mane of blond hair cascaded over the back of an uncomfortable eighteenth-century chair. “Tessa.”

      She jumped. “Oh, Your Highness, I didn’t hear you come in.”

      “Your Highness?” He lifted a brow.

      “I’m interviewing candidates for your new house sitter.” She indicated a red-haired girl seated opposite her.

      He smiled at them both. He always could count on Tessa to handle everything.

      Tessa excused herself for a moment and hurried after Sebastian. “I unpacked your bag. I’m not sure if I did it right. Let me show you where I put things.”

      She rambled on, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his private space. His house sitter used to handle the apartment, so she rarely came here. She was embarrassed that she still hadn’t had time to tackle his mail. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I just thought it would be a good idea to interview the house sitters here so they’d have an idea of what the job entails. The antiques and all. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they treat your home.”

      “Good thinking.”

      She rushed along the hallway. Why was she so anxious? Perhaps because she was also secretly interviewing for her own replacement.

      “The agency had three girls ready this morning, and I didn’t want to wait, or to interrupt you at Reed’s. How did the meeting go?”

      “Great. I wanted to get his advice on how to bring Caspia Designs into the twenty-first century.” He glanced at her. “Or even the twentieth.”

      His mischievous grin made her heart beat faster.

      “You’ll turn the company around fast.”

      “With your help.” He shot her a dark look. “Starting with this trip to Caspia.”

      She swallowed. Even poring over the inadequate and whimsical financial reports of Caspia Designs had made her fall a little bit in love with the country. It seemed a land ruled by passion rather than politics. Exuberance rather than economics.

      Much like its devastatingly handsome prince.

      Tessa bit her lip. Already she’d reconsidered her plan to leave. Sebastian paid her well and treated her kindly. Her parents told her she was mad to quit a job with such excellent benefits.

      But she’d spent most of her adult life working with the rich and famous, first at a PR firm and now here. She was sick of glitz and glamour. She’d trade it in a heartbeat for the simple happiness her parents still shared after nearly fifty years of marriage.

      For some reason being tall and blond attracted the biggest jerk in every room she entered. She’d had enough of being arm-candy for movers and shakers who weren’t interested in anything beyond a night of sex.

      Normal “regular guy” types never asked her out. Patrick was the best thing to happen to her in a long time. Yes, he was a high-profile lawyer, but he was down-to-earth and practical. He called when he said he would. He took her out on dates—when he had the time—and treated her with respect.

      Something she’d begun to worry would never happen.

      In his large, uncluttered bedroom, Sebastian removed his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. Tessa dragged her eyes away. “I hung your pants and shirts in the closet. And I put your…underwear in the drawer.”

      Her cheeks heated. Handling his boxers had felt way too personal.

      “You didn’t have to do that.” His fingers continued down his buttons. He tugged his shirt out of his pants to undo the bottom ones and she fought an urge to run for the door.

      But she didn’t want him to know that watching him undress affected her. He was probably used to undressing in front of…staff. It meant nothing to him.

      She meant nothing to him.

      For years she’d been telling herself her silly attraction to her boss would fade over time. She’d fall for someone else.

      But other men seemed pale and uninteresting compared to Sebastian.

      Except Patrick, of course. He was thoughtful. Nice. Considerate.

      He wasn’t quite ready for fatherhood yet, but maybe once his big case was over and they settled into a comfortable house in a nice quiet neighborhood with trees and grass and…

      Uh-oh. Sebastian’s long fingers undid the button on his pants.

      She headed for the door. “I put your toiletries in the bathroom. Well, your toothbrush. I didn’t see anything else.”

      “I don’t need anything else.”

      “I’ll get back to my interview.” Her voice was high and squeaky. She heard the swish of his pants sliding over his long, muscled legs.

      “Did Dior Homme send the T-shirts?”

      “Um. Yes. I put them…” She’d have to go back into the bedroom to find the shelf. Squinting to avoid the vision of a seminaked Sebastian, she hurried to the closet.

      “Here, on the middle shelf.” The fresh pile of shirts commemorated the deal he’d brokered to open a Dior boutique in the row of luxury stores along the harbor in Caspia. She picked up a large black T-shirt with a geometric design and held it toward him while keeping her eyes averted.

      She could smell his scent. Soap and skin. A hint of sweat.

      How could that get her blood pumping? He was just a guy, for crying out loud. Patrick smelled much nicer, of that woodsy cologne he wore. Which, actually, she hated. But she could buy him another.

      “Tessa.”

      She turned without thinking. At the exact moment he lifted the T-shirt over his head and flexed all the muscles of his wide, bronzed chest.

      Her knees buckled and she struggled to stay upright.

      Not a problem. She didn’t like big muscles anyway.

      Too brutish.

      She preferred men who were…cerebral.

      “What do you think?” He indicated the T-shirt freshly pulled over his thick pecs.

      “Nice design.” Her voice came out weird and flat. A light dusting of black hair roughened his hard, bare thighs below the T-shirt hem.

      “Yeah. I like this new line. Did you take some for yourself?”

      “I don’t wear extra large.”

      “You could wear them in bed.” His low voice tickled her ears.

      Tessa’s eyes widened. Her face heated. Sebastian was thinking about her in bed?

       Oh. Get over yourself.

      If anyone knew that women like to sleep in oversize T-shirts, it was Sebastian. He’d seen a lot of women in bed.

      “Sure. I’ll grab a couple.”

      “Great.” He shot her a white-toothed smile.

      That set her on alert. Why