Mail-Order Prince In Her Bed. Kathryn Jensen

stuff to be happy on my birthday. A good book and a hot bubble bath are just fine. And I don’t mind being alone,” she added quickly when he opened his mouth as if to comment. “I enjoy my privacy.”

      Which was true. To a certain degree.

      She’d always needed time to herself. Time to read, to write in her journal, to garden or listen without interruptions to a CD of her favorite opera. A cup of sweet tea and a melt-your-knees tenor singing to her while she soaked in steaming water was her idea of heaven.

      But there were times, more and more often these days, when she’d have liked someone to eat dinner with, someone to talk to about her day or snuggle up with in bed at night before falling asleep. These were other kinds of quiet times.

      Sex? The word popped into her head. Sex would be nice, she imagined.

      Everyone said it was an indispensable part of life, although she believed most people made too much of it. Someday she’d be able to judge for herself. That time would come when she found the man she would marry.

      Until then, she had promised herself she wouldn’t surrender totally to any man. Her mother had made that mistake, and had been left alone with a baby. Maria admitted to herself that she was curious, maybe even a little anxious as the months and years wore on and she felt child-bearing years slipping away from her. But she wouldn’t be foolish.

      Antonio’s hand returned to her knee. This time she eyed it thoughtfully, but didn’t brush it off. “Where to next?” she asked.

      “Next, we go to Espazio Italia. On my last trip to this country I saw there the loveliest terra-cotta pieces outside of my own country. I would like to buy presents for family back home and, if you like, something for you as well.”

      She shrugged, having already decided it was easier to go along with him than fight a mulish man. “Sounds harmless enough. Why not?”

      So why did she feel as if she’d just stepped off a cliff into thin air? Why did her instincts shriek at her that, with that simple gesture of lifted shoulders, she had just set forces in motion over which she had no control?

      Two

      Maria was delighted by the profusion of amazing hand-made pottery from Sicily, Taormina and Grottaglie. The brilliant colors evoked Mediterranean sunshine and made her feel cheerful just by looking at them.

      Antonio bought a pretty glazed bowl and a small figurine of an ebony horse, and had them wrapped—for safe travel, he told the clerk. It seemed odd that he was purchasing items that had originated in his own country, but maybe he was too busy with his olive groves to go shopping very often at home.

      He offered to buy Maria a pretty vase she had admired, but she politely refused after flipping over the price tag. “I’ll save up for it and come back someday.” But she knew she never would. Everything in the shop was gorgeous but way out of her budget’s league.

      At last they drove back across the city as the sun set, and Maria felt as if she were melting into the limousine’s seats. She hadn’t felt so relaxed, so pleased with a day in as long as she could remember. If humiliating her had been her friends’ goal, their plan had failed miserably. This day and Antonio had been wonderful gifts.

      The car pulled up in front of her apartment building. Maria sat up straight and was about to turn toward the passenger door beside her when Antonio’s hand closed around the back of her neck and easily guided her back toward him.

      “Sei bellissima,” he murmured, then kissed her expertly, softly on the lips.

      It happened so fast, she didn’t have time to draw a breath or protest. When he pulled back a few inches to observe her reaction, she was speechless.

      “You still don’t believe me,” he said. “I can see it in your face.”

      She shrugged, but the words came out in a froggy little whisper. “I believe you’re Antonio Boniface from Italy. It’s the prince part that’s still a little hard to swallow.”

      “A pity you’re such a cautious woman.” He tapped one finger on her chin, her cheek, then the sensitive lobe of one ear.

      “What’s wrong with being cautious?” she asked, mesmerized by his voice as much as by his touch.

      “You will miss out on a lot of life’s pleasures.”

      She laughed nervously, her heart thudding in her chest. “I don’t suppose we’re talking about chocolate cake or a good movie?”

      “No.” He gave her an amused smile.

      “Listen,” she said over a sudden dry spot in her throat, “I think I know what you’re getting at. I’m just not in the habit of sleeping around.”

      “I know that.” His finger continued its path, tracing her lips, trailing down her throat.

      She gulped. “You do?”

      He nodded slowly. “You’re easy to read, Maria McPherson. You were an obedient child, and now you’re a careful woman. You don’t entice men, intentionally that is. In fact—”

      He studied her face thoughtfully, then ran an experimental hand around behind her neck and brought his fingers up through the strands of her hair at her nape. The sensation was electric. She shivered deliciously.

      “In fact, I wonder if you’ve not been too careful.”

      “In, ah…in what way?” she asked breathlessly.

      “In the way of totally avoiding satisfaction. By running from the joy of sharing yourself with a man.”

      He was asking if she was a virgin. “This is getting way…way too personal,” she stammered.

      He smiled apologetically but didn’t remove his hand. It felt pleasantly rough, not what she’d expected of gentry, if he was that. His fingers tangled playfully in her blond waves.

      “Only an observation. I’m fascinated by your decision. If you elect to wait for your life mate, that is an honorable choice—one which any man should respect. I only wonder that a lovely woman like you shouldn’t be more eager to experiment a little.”

      “I didn’t say I wasn’t curious,” Maria blurted out, then realized she had made a tactical error in this matching of wits.

      She suddenly wondered where the driver had gone. He was no longer in the front seat, but he didn’t seem to be waiting outside her door either.

      “I mean, of course, anyone is curious about something they’ve never tried, something everyone talks about and requires at least one scene in every movie you see. That would be natural.”

      “Of course,” he said. “Natural.” There, again, was that enigma of a smile. He didn’t insist upon an explanation, but she felt compelled to give one.

      “Listen, my not wanting to have sex with you, a stranger, if that’s what you’re hinting at, has nothing to do with how attractive you are. Believe me, if I were to choose a man on looks alone, he’d be someone like you. On top of that, you have great manners and that super accent, and you’re fun to be around.”

      “But you wouldn’t sleep with me?” He was teasing her, yet he was also serious. She could see mixed motives in the dark glitter of his oh-so-blue eyes.

      “No!” she gasped. “I don’t even know you, Antonio. For goodness’ sakes, you could be married!”

      “I’ve been honest, I told you my name and where I’m from. Now I add that I’m not married. Dio! I can see you still don’t fully believe me.” He sounded honestly frustrated. “How can we get to know each other? You tell me.”

      She let out a long, weary breath. After all, she didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings. “Listen, come upstairs for a cup of coffee. I think I have a pound cake in the freezer. But this is just a way for us to talk, okay? I’m not luring you up to my apartment to have