Virgin Seduction

compromises. All this formal socializing, rubbing elbows with royalty-that wasn't his style. Oh, he knew a certain amount of that stuff was unavoidable from time to time, but he was always glad when it was time to roll up his sleeves and get down to the real work, down and dirty sometimes, rough as a bare-knuckle brawl, but that was what he liked about it-the excitement of the game. That, and the satisfaction that came with winning.

Anyway, for sheer stress, all that was a piece of cake compared to what he'd just been through. He'd rather spend three days in cutthroat negotiations than three hours at a formal reception-and in this case, formal was putting it mildly. Not that it hadn't been impressive as hell, the palace ballroom lit up like Christmas, the food delicious, the music tolerable, if you went in for that sort of thing. And he'd never seen so many purple sashes and gold medals in one place in all his life, or so many beautiful people-especially the women. Everywhere he looked was a feast for a man's eyes. But there was something about it he couldn't quite put his finger on. Undercurrents.

Undercurrents. Yeah, he thought, that about described it, all right. Underneath all the bright lights and highbrow music, the dazzling smiles and graceful bows, elegant tuxes and designer gowns in rainbow colors swirled together like ribbons in a washing machine…under all that, like a subterranean river, ran a ribbon of tension, a hum of intrigue he could feel in his bones. He wondered whether it was something going on between these Tamiri people and their nearest neighbors, the Montebellans, or if it was just standard operating procedure for royal courts. Not unlike what goes on every day in Washington, D.C., he thought, or for that matter, any state capitol back home.

This thing with Leila Kamal, though…that was another story. That particular intrigue was entirely personal, and the tension a steel rod running straight down the back of his neck. It had made for one helluva nerve-wracking evening, trying to avoid eye contact-or any sort of contact whatsoever-with the woman, while being at the same time aware of her with every nerve in his body. Nervewracking…intense…but now, thank God, it was over. Finally, he could relax.

With another gusty exhalation, he peeled off his necktie and headed for the bathroom. There, while his fingers dealt with the studs on his shirt, his eyes gazed dispassionately back at him from the ornately framed mirror above the sink.

You were damned lucky, Gallagher.

Oh yeah. He knew just how lucky he'd been. He'd played with fire and somehow managed not to get burned.

That narrow brush with disaster had left him shaken, but he'd managed to put it behind him. All he needed now was a good night's sleep, and tomorrow some mutually advantageous wheeling and dealing with the old sheik, and he'd be himself again.

Stripping off his shirt, he briefly considered another shower. But he was tired, just wanted to hit the sack, so he turned on the tap above the sink instead. He was hunched over the bowl, cupped hands filling up with water to splash over his face, when he heard a light tapping on his chamber door.

What now? One of the servants, probably, they were always bringing him something-towels or fruit or herbal tea-though it seemed pretty late for that. Frowning, he turned off the faucet, grabbed a towel and went to open the door.

When he saw who was standing there, he wondered why he didn't have a heart attack on the spot. At the very least, he was pretty sure he knew now what it might feel like to be speared in the belly with an icicle.

Chapter 4

'Princess-' It gusted from him before he could think. 'What're you-why-' And while he was sputtering like that she slipped past him and into his room.

He had a fleeting impression of a light, spicy scent, hair that flowed down her back like an ebony river, a gown made of something pale and floaty-she'd glow in the dark like a candle!

He'd never felt more exposed, or more cognizant of the danger he was in. If anyone happened to walk by…if she so much as raised her voice, cried out, Cade's goose was as good as cooked. Even in this part of the world he doubted they still executed people for such transgressions, but at the very least, any hopes he had of doing a deal with the Tamari people would be out the window, and he might even be out-literally- himself. As in, given the bum's rush. Bounced unceremoniously out the door on his butt. Right now, this minute, in the middle of the night.

Plus, Elena was never going to forgive him-never.

With icy dread crawling down his spine, he gave his face an absentminded mop with the towel, glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then silently pulled the door closed. He felt as if the door of a trap had just slammed shut behind him.

Leila moved as if through a wall of suffocating heat-holding her breath, feeling her cheeks burn and sweat bloom on her forehead. Knowing instinctively the source of the heat, she kept her face turned away from him-as if that would help!

She reached with her hand to touch the back of the sofa and leaned against it a little, testing it for support, then brushed her fingers over the fabric to hide the fact that she'd done so. She heard the door close behind her and silence fill the room. In it the thump and swish of her pulse sounded loud as the storm surf striking the rocks below the cliffs.

'Princess-' His voice was harsh.

And though she didn't want to, she flinched. Still, as she turned she knew her smile would appear bright and determined. 'I thought you were going to call me Leila.'

Breath gusted from him, as if he'd been holding it in too long. 'For God's sake, what are you doing here?'

But she could not answer. Suddenly she had no moisture in her mouth; she could not seem to move her tongue. Nor her eyes, either, for somehow they had become stuck to the naked masculine chest in front of her, and not even for her life could she tear them away. She did not understand-she had seen men's chests and torsos before… hadn't she? In pictures, at the very least. But if she had, it did not seem so. To her this felt like the first time she had ever laid eyes on such a sight… .ever.

'Look…Leila-' He took a step toward her, face darkened, both hands upraised and fingers tensed, as though he wanted to grasp her with them.

Her breath caught and her heart gave a frightened leap. Even she could see that it was not a welcoming gesture. But not a violent one, either. She thought he seemed more distraught than angry, and her fear was not for her physical safety. He would not harm her, she was certain of that.

Just as she was certain now that she had made a terrible mistake in judgment. Somehow, because of the vast difference in their cultures, probably, she had misunderstood him. She knew that he had not meant what she had thought he meant. Not at all.

I shouldn 't have come.

All of that passed through Leila's mind in the time it took her to utter a single dismayed gasp. In the next moment, memory-sensual, visceral, overwhelming-slammed her with the force of a physical blow. Hard lips, smooth and gentle lips… liquid warmth, breath smelling of tobacco, trembling pressure and pounding pulse…

Her body felt cold, and her legs as if they would not support her weight. She heard a rushing sound in her ears. But I had to come…I had to. What else could I do?

She took one step forward…and into a void.

Swearing vehemently, Cade caught her as her knees buckled. Then, since there didn't seem to be anything else to do, he scooped her up in his arms. This is insane. Ludicrous.

While casting frantically about for a place to deposit his unconscious burden, he caught a glimpse of himself and her in the gilt-framed mirror above the tile and marble fireplace-heaving breasts in a filmy gown against the backdrop of his own naked, sweaty chest…her pale throat a taut and graceful curve…raven hair cascading over his arms like a waterfall…Damn, he thought with a snort that was part irony, part disgust and most of all dismay. Look like the cover of one of those romance novels women are always reading.

He'd about decided to lay his swooning princess on the sofa when he felt her arms come to twine around his