The Montoros Dynasty. Katherine Garbera

some tiny indication that he was not as certain as she thought he was about what had happened between them last night.

      It was then she realized she wasn’t being fair. Either she was in this, or she wasn’t.

      It took courage, but she walked to where he stood and slid her arms around his waist. “I’ve been second-guessing myself, Alex. But that’s over. I’m content to take things one day at a time. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to work with you and not want to jump your bones, but I’ll try.”

      He hugged her so tightly she thought her ribs would crack. “God, Maria.” He pulled back and rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “I thought I might have scared you off.”

       Eleven

      “I don’t scare that easily, Mr. Ramon.”

      “Thank God.” Her cheeky grin was adorable. Alex felt as if he had dodged a bullet. There had been women in his life who had walked away. At least one or two. But none whose defection had given him heartburn.

      This morning when he woke up alone, his heart had gone cold until he heard faint sounds from the bathroom. In those moments when he thought she had fled to her room, he’d felt a little sick. Not for anything in the world would he have her feel uneasy about what had happened between them. He decided then and there that if she wasn’t a hundred percent on board with this new slant to their relationship, he wasn’t going to chase after her. Not because of any pride on his part, but because Maria was too nice a woman to have to fend off unwanted advances from a coworker.

      He wrapped a hand in her silky hair, wishing he could take her hard and fast, but they had reached a tentative accord. Maybe he should show some restraint. “I suppose we need to work,” he said, finding little enthusiasm for the prospect.

      “Definitely,” she said. “And if we get a lot done, we might have time for some recreation later.”

      Alex replayed that promise repeatedly over the next three hours. It wasn’t easy to stay focused, but he tried. Fortunately, once they delved into the draft of the proposal, he was able to keep his attention mostly on the words they were shaping rather than the scent of Maria’s hair.

      It touched him that she was so sweetly intent on their task. Though not a native of Alma, she took her responsibilities very seriously. The powers that be had been right to include her in the delegation.

      The opening language of the proposal was flowery and formal, based mostly on historic documents. From there, Alex and Maria struggled with the order of points relating to the royal family’s return. Should the legalities of power and function be first, or was it more politically correct to mention the palace and what was left of the Montoro fortune from before Tantaberra’s regime?

      At least they had Jean Claude’s extensive notes when it came to lawyer-speak. Neither Alex nor Maria was trained in such areas. But they were both good editors, Alex catching the occasional typo and Maria smoothing out style and syntax.

      At one in the afternoon, he called a halt. Standing behind her chair, he put his hand on her shoulders. “My eyes are crossing. We’ve done enough for now. I need food, woman.”

      “But we only have—”

      He put his hand over her mouth. “It’s for your own good, Miss Ferro. I’m seeing symptoms of workaholic-itis. It’s a terrible disease and one that has to be nipped in the bud.”

      She stood up and stretched. “You’re so full of it. But yeah...I guess we should stop. What do you want for lunch?”

      He took her hand and reeled her in, tucking her against his chest and resting his forehead against hers. “You,” he muttered. “Only you.”

      * * *

      They eventually got around to ordering pizza. Alex threw on some pants to answer the door and tip the delivery guy, but undressed again quickly so he could eat naked in bed with Maria.

      “This is really a smart idea,” she said, rescuing a blob of tomato sauce from her bare arm. “I don’t have to worry about spilling anything on my clothes.”

      Alex nodded solemnly. “All part of my plan to keep you here indefinitely as my sexual plaything.”

       “Plaything?”

      “What?” he asked. “You don’t like the word?”

      She pursed her lips, curling her tongue to rescue a string of cheese. “I was thinking more along the lines of erotic goddess.”

      He reclined on both elbows, suddenly uninterested in pizza. “I stand corrected,” he said huskily.

      Maria dabbed her lips with a napkin and frowned at him. “Stop that.”

      “Stop what?”

      “Undressing me with your eyes.”

      “Um...I’m pretty sure that’s not a fair rap. You’re buck naked, my sweet. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

      She crossed her arms over her chest. “A gentleman wouldn’t say things like that.”

      He grabbed her ankle and pulled, laughing when she pretended to struggle. “Then I guess I’m no gentleman.”

      * * *

      Maria felt as if another woman had possessed her body. A female who was sexy and fun and carefree. Maybe she was channeling a 1940s film star. Glamorous. Mysterious. Living on the edge.

      Alex’s head rested on her bare belly, his hair tickling her leg. She stroked the outside of his ear. “You amaze me,” she whispered. Her back rested against the headboard. As she cast her gaze over the bed, the view almost made her laugh. All the covers were on the floor. She and Alex lay sprawled on top of the fitted sheet.

      She might have been cold if the man’s body hadn’t radiated heat like a furnace.

      He yawned. “Amaze you how?”

      “The whole Clark Kent/Superman thing. I’ve worked for you and with you for years and only this weekend have I discovered all your superpowers.”

      “Maybe not all,” he said, his smug, masculine grin rekindling a slow burn in her secret feminine places. “I just might have a few more surprises up my sleeve.”

      “Bragging isn’t attractive, Alex.” She squeezed his bicep. “And I might point out that you don’t have any sleeves.”

      He pretended to frown as his hand roved her bare thigh, sending gooseflesh all over her body. “Details, woman. Details. You need to look at the big picture.”

      She brushed his erection with a fingertip. “Oh, I’m looking,” she said.

      When he laughed, she felt a jolt of pure happiness. Alone in this room, he had shown her a glimpse of the kind of relationship she had always wanted. But the Alex with her now didn’t often come out to play.

      He was dedicated to his country and to his responsibilities and to his role as deputy prime minister of commerce. The livelihoods of common people rested in his hands. He wielded tremendous talent and carried a tremendous load.

      Alex sat up and hooked a hand behind her neck to kiss her. “Pepperoni,” he muttered. “My favorite.”

      Suddenly, she was painfully aware of the ticking of the clock...of the invisible hourglass whose sand was draining away at an alarming pace. “Make love to me, Alex. I need you.”

      Neither of them noticed or cared when the pizza box fell to the floor. Alex’s warm hands on her body caressed and petted and stroked and generally drove her insane. He liked to torment them both, to reduce each of them to desperation before finally moving over and into her with a slow, firm thrust that forged a connection she’d never known or understood.

      Her body seemed already to recognize