The Prince & the Pregnant Princess. Susan Mallery

gaze narrowed. “Even now you defy me. Why do you play a game you can’t win?”

      “I’m not interested enough to play with you anymore. As for winning—it wasn’t very interesting when I won last time.”

      He sucked in a breath. “I was the victor.”

      He had been, too. He’d seduced her in a heartbeat and had left her begging for more. Not that she was going to admit that to him. “Whatever. I really don’t remember.”

      He put his hand on her shoulder and stroked the side of her neck. Had she been one of the king’s pet cats, she would have purred.

      “Your mouth tells lies, but I see the truth in your eyes. The passion is as it always was between us. Your attempts to resist me will only make us both more hungry.”

      “You managed to forget about me for the four months I was gone, Sadik. The fact that you’re paying attention to me now simply means that I’ve turned up on your radar. It’s a knee-jerk reaction that isn’t the least bit flattering—nor am I interested.”

      She had more to say, but at that moment she was saved by the bell…literally. The head butler rang a gong that announced it was time for dinner. Cleo took the opportunity to duck away from Sadik before he could trap her with him.

      How could she have blurted that out to him? If he had a single, functioning brain cell—and she happened to know he had more than the average working guy—he would figure out that her feelings were hurt by the fact that he’d let her go and hadn’t once bothered to get in touch with her. She didn’t want him thinking that he mattered. She didn’t want him thinking about her at all. He already had too much power over her sexually. The last thing she needed was him using her fragile emotions against her, too.

      She walked into the main dining room and had a moment of panic at the thought that they might be seated next to each other. Several long tables filled the smaller of the formal dining rooms in the palace. Cleo found her name on the seating chart, then drew in a relieved breath when she saw the seats next to her were already taken. Rafe sat on her right, which meant Zara was next to him. A least she would be close to a semi-family member. On her left was a man she didn’t know, but he seemed friendly enough when he greeted her and held out her chair.

      “Jonathan Grant,” he said easily, holding out his hand.

      “Cleo Wilson,” she said, and settled in her chair. Rafe turned and gave her a wink before returning his attention to Zara.

      Cleo took a moment to glance around the room. During her first stay in the palace, she’d explored several of the public rooms. She’d even almost begun to understand the floor plan. This particular dining room was used for smaller formal events. The wall tapestries dated back to the fifteenth century and showed the various explorers who had made their way to Bahania. Four marble statues stood in the corners. At the far end of the room was a raised dais for a small orchestra. Several crystal chandeliers provided light.

      Everything glittered, especially the well-dressed people. How happy they must be that the king agreed to keep his cats out of the room on evenings such as these.

      “What’s so funny?” Jonathan asked.

      He was an attractive man in his late forties. Cleo picked up her water glass. “I was thinking that a couple of loose cats could do a lot of damage with their shedding in this group.”

      Jonathan grinned. “I’m still picking off hairs from my last visit here. Black suit, white cat. I swear I heard her laughing as she rubbed against me.”

      Cleo chuckled at the image. As she did so, she felt something intense, as if…

      She raised her head. Sadik might not be next to her, but he was across from her. The table was wide enough to keep them from talking easily, but that didn’t matter. It was enough to know he was there. There and watching her. She deliberately turned back to her seatmate.

      “What business brings you to Bahania?” she asked.

      Jonathan looked faintly surprised at the question. “I’m the American ambassador.”

      Heat instantly flared on her cheeks. She wanted to crawl under the table. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t actually live in Bahania and, well…” Her voice trailed off. Did it matter that she didn’t live here? Her circle of friends had never included an ambassador.

      “I should have done a better job of introducing myself,” he said easily. “As your sister is Princess Zara, I assumed you would have been told about me.”

      So he knew who she was. Figures. Life could be annoyingly unfair. “So far Zara and I have pretty much talked about the wedding. You know—girl stuff.”

      “I have three daughters so I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

      The fact that he had children made her able to put aside her faux pas. As dinner was served, she found herself chatting easily with Jonathan. He explained that his wife had returned home to the States to get their oldest settled at college and visit family.

      All through the various courses Cleo did her best to ignore Sadik’s watchful gaze. He was polite enough to converse with the women on either side of him, but she would have bet he barely heard what they were saying. He was too busy glaring at her.

      When the dessert plates had been cleared away, the waiters brought out trays of open champagne bottles. The bubbly liquid was served, and King Hassan rose to toast his daughter.

      Cleo joined in the applause and, at the appropriate time, raised her glass to her lips but was careful not to swallow. Conflicting emotions swelled up inside of her. She was deeply happy for her sister. Zara deserved all her joy. But the knowledge that things would never be the same between them made Cleo feel hollow inside.

      The king ended the meal by inviting everyone to dance in the main ballroom. As Cleo pushed back her seat, she could already hear the strains of music. But with her heavy heart and suddenly unsettled stomach, what she wanted more than anything was to hurry back to her room for a quiet pity party and a good movie. She nearly made it to the far door before she was caught.

      “The American ambassador is happily married.”

      Cleo spun toward Sadik. “Number one, stop sneaking up on me. It’s annoying. Number two, I know all about Jonathan’s wife and his daughters. We had a lovely time chatting together and don’t you dare turn it into something sleazy.”

      His dark eyes were unreadable. A muscle twitched in his jaw. She half expected him to throw her over his shoulder and spirit her away. A part of her would have welcomed being in his bed, regardless of the price. Fortunately, all he did was lead her toward the ballroom, then pull her into his arms for a dance.

      They moved without speaking. Cleo let herself relax to the rhythm of the music. Maybe it was madness, but being with Sadik felt like coming home.

      Despite the height difference, they danced well together. She easily anticipated his moves. The heat from his body made her feel safe.

      Safe, she thought sadly. There was a unique concept. She might be many things with the prince, but the least of them was safe.

      “You should go bother a skinny, tall brunette and leave me alone,” she grumbled.

      “You should stop talking. You’re spoiling our moment together.”

      “Is that what we’re having?”

      “Yes. And you’re enjoying it. Besides, I want no other woman but you.”

      His words sank down to her heart, ripping away protective layers of common sense. She knew he was only talking about sex, but she couldn’t help wishing…wanting…something more. Sadik held her close enough that she could feel the call of his body. She took the half step closer, nestling herself against him. His only response was to sigh softly.

      For a time, with her pregnancy, her breasts had been extremely tender. That symptom had faded so she could now enjoy