Susan Stephens - The Prince in the Royal Suite

‘Let’s just say I’m a citizen of the world – always on the move.’

He was certainly charismatic – eastern European, possibly, she guessed, with those amazing cheekbones – but the humour in his eyes was all his own. And this was all very nice, but she really should have more sense than to talk to a strange man in a bar. ‘I really shouldn’t be doing this,’ she admitted in her usual forthright manner.

‘Shouldn’t be doing what?’ Lucaj demanded as the barman served their drinks.

‘Talking to you – allowing you buy me a drink, when I don’t even know you.’

‘I don’t know you.’ Lucaj flashed a smile that proved his strong white teeth were just as impressive as the rest of him. ‘Am I in danger? If I am, you should do the decent thing and tell me now.’

She laughed to cover for her burning cheeks. Indecent things were uppermost in her mind where Lucaj was concerned.

Shooting into an upright position, she pulled herself together. Acting confident was one thing, but taking it to the next level was something else altogether. ‘I don’t normally do things like this.’

‘But we’re both alone in alone in London. At least, I presume you’re alone?’

‘Yes I am.’ Should she have admitted that? She might be playing a role, but she got the feeling that Lucaj was playing himself.

‘Then, let’s break the rules, Libby. There’s no-one here to see us.’

He gave her that smile again, and it was bone-melting. He smelled amazing too – sandalwood and spice. And they were just two strangers chatting in a bar. Where was the harm in that?

Harm lay in the fact that for the first time in her life, this good girl wished she were bad.

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