The Park's Empire: Handsome Strangers...: The Prince's Bride. GINA WILKINS

to her suite and followed her inside.

      The room was shadowy, dimly lit only by the faint light from a bedside lamp left burning in the adjoining room.

      “Lazhar, I don’t think…” Emily began, her normally clear tones husky with emotion.

      “Shh.” He silenced her with a fingertip against her lips. “Don’t think.”

      He backed her against the door panels, lifted her hands to place them around his neck, and lowered his head to cover her mouth with his.

      And was instantly lost in the hot, honeyed taste of her mouth that opened willingly beneath his, the press of her body that curved so perfectly against his own, the scent of her skin and hair that stirred his senses with every breath he drew.

      He was drunk on the taste, scent and feel of her. He sank his fingers deep into the heavy thickness of her hair and tilted her face up to his. She murmured incoherently, her arms tightening around his neck to hold him closer as the kiss turned hotter, the press of their bodies more urgent in the thick silence of the darkened room.

      Lazhar wanted her. Emily clearly wanted him. And the bedroom was only steps away. But when he drew back, intending to obey the urging of his body, pick her up and carry her the few feet to her bed, sanity intruded.

      “Damn,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers while he struggled for control.

      “What?” Emily murmured, opening heavylidded green eyes to look up at him, confusion vying with arousal on her expressive features.

      “We can’t do this.”

      “Why?” Awareness chased away the drowsy, passionate cast of her face. Still flushed, she stiffened and pulled out of his arms. “Of course we can’t.” Her voice was equally stiff. “I think you should leave now, Your Highness. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

      Lazhar was painfully aroused but he couldn’t help smiling ruefully at the contrast between the vibrant, passionate Emily he’d held a moment before and this prim, annoyed and obviously uncomfortable Emily who faced him now.

      “It was my pleasure.” He caught her shoulders and bent to take her mouth in a brief, possessive kiss. “Especially this.” She glared at him, speechless, and he smiled, delighted with her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      She didn’t answer and he stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. He clearly heard the sharp thud as something hit the panels. It was probably her purse, or maybe a shoe, he thought as he moved quickly down the corridor, whistling softly, his hands shoved into his pockets.

      Emily woke to the sound of birds warbling and chirping outside her room, where the earlymorning sunshine flooded the garden. Despite the early hour and the late night before, she rose, showered, dressed in a bright yellow sundress she found hanging in the closet, slipped her feet into matching leather sandals, and within the hour was ready to search for the breakfast room.

      She stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her, and paused, trying to remember if the maid had led her to the right or the left the prior morning.

      “I think we went to the right,” she murmured. She set off down the thick carpet that ran down the center of the wide hallway, leaving blackveined grey marble floor visible along both sides.

      She hadn’t gone far when a man wearing the blue and gold uniform of a house servant entered the hall from a side passage and walked toward her.

      “Miss Parks?”

      “Yes.”

      “His Highness, King Abbar, asks that you join him for breakfast in his garden. I’m to take you to him, should you choose to accept his invitation.”

      Emily smiled with delight. “I would be more than happy to join the king.”

      The man bowed. “If you’ll follow me, please. This way.” He gestured down the hallway he’d just traversed and set off, Emily walking behind him.

      Once again, she quickly lost her bearings as they turned into yet another hallway and then another. At last, however, they reached the familiar door where the soldiers stood guard and her guide led her through the king’s spacious sitting room and out into the sunshine.

      “Good morning, Emily,” King Abbar’s lined face lit with a smile.

      “Good morning, Your Highness.” Emily let the servant pull out a chair and seat her. “How lovely of you to invite me to share breakfast with you.”

      “And how gracious of you to accept.” The king’s eyes twinkled. He gestured at the waiter, who leapt into action, deftly pouring equal streams of coffee and hot milk into the Limoges china cup next to Emily’s plate. “What would you like to eat this morning? My chef will make anything you want, from American pancakes to British kippers to a Danizian omelet.”

      “I think I’d like an omelet.”

      “Excellent.” He waved his hand and the servant bowed and withdrew. “That is my choice as well, together with fruit and our own Danizian version of coffee, which is a bit of a cross between Turkish coffee and Italian espresso. You must taste it and tell me what you think.”

      Emily obediently lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. The rich flavor of strong coffee blended with the vanilla-flavored milk, creating a smooth, succulent drink.

      “Mmm.” Emily gave a small hum of appreciation, her eyes closing briefly. “This is almost sinfully delicious,” she told him. “I have a favorite coffee shop in San Francisco, not far from my office, and I’d love to take this recipe home with me so I can ask the owner to make it for me. Is that possible?”

      “I will have my assistant write it down for you,” he smiled approvingly. “I’m pleased that you like it. How are you enjoying other things about my country? Are you having a pleasant visit?”

      “I’m having a wonderful time,” she said promptly. “Last night we visited the casino and a club named Pilar’s where we saw flamenco dancing.”

      “Ah, yes, I believe that Pilar’s is one of my son’s favorite nightspots.” King Abbar’s gaze was veiled and he looked away, lifting his own cup to drink. “What did you think of our casino?”

      “I was fascinated.” Emily leaned forward, the heady rush of excitement she’d felt when she’d won last night returning in a gust of memory. “And I actually won at roulette.”

      “Did you?” The king’s eyebrows winged upward in surprise. “Are you often lucky at games of chance?”

      “I have no idea. Last night was the first time I’ve ever played roulette. Lazhar explained the system his grandfather used and when I tried it, I won. A lot,” she added, still faintly incredulous at the ease with which she’d gained such a large sum.

      His gaze sharpened and he watched her closely over the rim of his cup. “Lazhar told you about the gambling system his grandfather used?”

      “Yes.” Emily lowered her voice. “He told me that his grandfather taught him to play blackjack and roulette when he was only six years old, is that true?”

      The swift grin that curved the king’s mouth was as mischievous as a boy’s. “Yes, I’m afraid it is true. My father—Lazhar’s grandfather—thought Lazhar should have a chance to experience life out from under the watchful eye of palace protocol. So he took my son to many places that in retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t have, and taught him things that might have been better learned when he was older.”

      “But Lazhar loved him very much and treasures those memories of his grandfather,” Emily said with a soft smile.

      “Yes, he does.” The king eyed her consideringly. “Did Lazhar tell you that?”

      “He told me that he gave his winnings to St. Catherine’s because his grandfather thought he should and he loved his grandfather,” Emily said. “I gathered from Lazhar’s words and his