A Prince Of A Guy

an ounce of information.”

“Neither have you.”

He fell silent.

The radio wasn’t on. Melissa was oddly quiet. Which left Carlyne with nothing to distract her from the way Sean’s long legs flexed every time he braked or clutched. His hand worked the gearshift with a natural ease that had her mind drifting to other things.

Such as what else he could do with those hands.

What he could do to a woman’s body. To her body.

She was pretty desperate if her mind had wandered in that direction about this man. “How’s work?” she asked, desperate for a diversion.

“Busy.”

“Nikki good?”

“Yep.”

“What are you working on?”

“Work.”

Subject clearly closed. Well, too bad. She needed to talk before the silence killed her. “Busy with your designs?”

He lifted a surprised brow.

“I do know what an architect does.”

“It’s not the actual work I’m too busy with,” he admitted. “I love that part. It’s the other. The dealing with rich, spoiled clients. Soothing ruffled egos. Attending silly cocktail parties to promote my work.”

“Parties?” They happened to be her forte, parties. Not that she missed wearing heels and stockings, but there was something to be said for the excitement of pulling it all together. “You have to go to a lot of them?”

“One in particular. This Saturday night,” he added in a voice that told her he’d rather have an impacted wisdom tooth removed without novocaine.

“It isn’t so bad, really,” she told him. “Just hold a drink in your hand and keep moving. Oh, and keep smiling.”

He flicked her an interested glance. “You sound like you know what you’re doing.”

“Well…”

“You can come with me, then.”

“What?”

She didn’t know who was more surprised. Sean, that he’d asked, or her. “But what about Melissa?” she asked. “She’ll-”

“She’ll be fine with Mrs. Trykowski for the night. Hey, it’s your own fault,” he said, sounding grumpy. “You looked interested. You can keep me in line.”

Yes, but who would keep her in line?

They didn’t talk again until they were seated in the noisy, bustling fast-food restaurant. They sat in front of the kiddie area, where Melissa had vanished. The small table was shaped like a hamburger. Their knees bumped. Their feet touched. And when they reached for their drinks at the same time, their hands brushed.

Overly sensitized to his touch, Carlyne drew back abruptly, knocking all her French fries to the floor.

“Here.” Sean reached into his bag and grabbed a fry. He dipped it in ketchup and lifted it to her lips.

His eyes were full of challenge and something else entirely, something that made her skin feel itchy and hot.

He waved the fry beneath her nose. It smelled heavenly.

But then again, so did Sean. “Sean, what are you doing?”

“Feeding you.”

“But-”

“Open.”

“I don’t think-”

“Open,” he said again, touching her lower lip with the fry, dabbing a drop of ketchup there, which she sucked off. The little sucking noise seemed exorbitantly loud.

SEAN FELT that noise to the depth of his toes, but mostly right between his thighs. And when Carly sunk her teeth into the French fry, he nearly moaned. “Good?” he asked in a voice gone thick with unexpected desire.

“Yes, but-”

“Eat, Carly.”

“But you don’t even like me,” she reminded him.

“I’m just feeding you.” Just looking at you. Just wanting you.

She drew the rest of the fry into her mouth. When she licked the remaining salt off her lower lip, he tore his gaze from hers and watched her mouth. It was a fascinating mouth. Wet, with a little bit of ketchup right…

She made a sound when he touched her lips. And when he dragged his finger across her lower lip, she made that sound again, an almost helplessly aroused noise that came from deep in the back of her throat.

“You have some…” His finger made the pass again, and when her tongue darted out to hit the spot, finger and tongue collided.

He let out a rough groan. “Carly-”

Her eyes closed as if the name somehow bothered her, but that was silly, it was her name, and then her tongue touched his finger again and he had to stop thinking because he lost all the blood in his head for parts south.

“You missed it,” he whispered hoarsely, and he bent forward, still holding her gaze until the last possible second, until their lips were nearly touching, until her long lashes drifted down, hiding her expression.

Until they were kissing.

Softly. Tentatively. Sweetly. And then that gentle connection wasn’t enough. Sean pulled back and reached for her glasses. He wanted them off, wanted no barriers.

“No, I want to see this,” Carly protested, her hands coming up, holding the glasses on.

He wasn’t going to argue. Cupping her face, Sean shifted closer and-

Nothing.

Because there came a tug on his shirt. “Can I have ice cream now, Uncle Sean? I been good. Really, really, really good.”

Melissa stood there, her eyes big and intent on her mission.

Carly’s eyes were big, too, and they landed on him with the same question he had. How long had Melissa been standing there?

Had she seen that impromptu-and totally inappropriate-kiss? And how had it happened? One moment he was teasing her with that French fry and the next…

“Aren’t you done talking yet?” Melissa wanted to know.

“Yes.” Carly surged to her feet. Careful to avoid Sean’s gaze, she grabbed Melissa’s hand. Her breathing wasn’t quite even, the only hint of any inner turmoil. “Let’s get that ice cream, kiddo.”

7

SHE WASN’T GOING to be able to sleep, so she didn’t even try. Instead, Carlyne slipped out of her bedroom through the sliding glass door.

The back yard was silent. The pool empty.

With a little sigh, she stretched out on a lounge chair, put her hands beneath her head, tipped up her chin and studied the sky.

“Not tired?”

Sean. He was sitting in the lounge chair right next to her, in the shadows, and she’d been so intent on the fact he hadn’t been swimming, she hadn’t even noticed him right beside her. She noticed him now, noticed every inch of