Dani Collins - Cinderella's Royal Seduction / Crowned At The Desert King's Command

This constant circling was exhausting. In the space of a day, he’d come around from thinking he should marry to impatience for task completion. Maude’s eldest was exactly what was expected of the royal family—well-bred, smoothly sophisticated and picture-perfect beautiful. She struck him as the possessive type, too. Overtures from other women would no longer be a problem. She would make damned sure of it.

“Please allow me to arrange a more peaceful dining experience for you tomorrow,” she had offered with the silky sweetness of a white chocolate mousse. “We often close the solarium for honeymoon couples.”

Honeymoon was a deliberate choice of word, he was sure. So exhausting.

“I’ll let you know.” He had cut away to his own room, not the least bit compelled to spend another minute with her, let alone a lifetime.

As he flipped open the folio, interest in purchasing this property nonexistent, the tiny black shoe fluttered to the carpet. All the darkness in him folded in on itself, becoming a burst of light with a single focus. Her.

He tried to shake it off. He had no business obsessing over anyone, let alone the least suitable woman here. How did he even have the energy to experience a rush of masculine interest? He ought to be physically exhausted from his day of skiing, but he couldn’t shake this buzz of sexual hunger. This sense of something being unfinished.

Maybe he could work it out in the pool.

He stripped where he stood and pulled on his robe. This time he had the sense to bring one of his bodyguards and ordered him to stand at the door to ensure he wouldn’t be stalked.

The lights were dimmed in the change room, the mirror and taps polished, the floor dry. The music and water feature were both turned off, along with the jets in the tub. It was blessedly silent as he walked past the still water of the indoor pool and hot tub. Through the fogged windows, he saw steam rising off the mineral pool in gentle wafts against the black sky.

Just as he was about to walk outside and dive in, however, he heard a noise down the short hallway that led to the sauna area. A woman was singing.

The scent of eucalyptus carried with her voice on the humid air. A bucket of cleaning supplies stood outside a door to a steam room. The sound of spraying water cut off, and he clearly heard her crooning a modern ballad that reverberated beautifully off the tiled walls.

He stood transfixed as she emerged to drop a long-handled scrubbing brush into the bucket. Her hair was in a messy ball atop her head, but tendrils stuck to her damp neck. She wore light cotton pants and a baggy smock, both heavily soaked at the cuffs. Without looking his way, she quit singing and sighed. She picked up the bucket and carried it down the hall and around a corner where an authorized-personnel-only sign hung.

What was she doing cleaning the sauna at midnight? She was a goddess who possessed a healing touch and a siren’s voice, not a scullery maid.

He crossed his arms, scowling as he listened to a door open and close. He waited for her to reappear.

And waited.

Had she locked herself in a utility closet? He followed to the end of the hall, where he found two doors. One opened to a closet that was empty of all but fresh linens and cleaning supplies. Her bucket sat on the floor inside it.

The other door read Emergency Exit Only. Door Locks Automatically.

It hadn’t set off an alarm when she went through, so he pushed it open. The night was clear, the air bracing. A narrow footpath had been stamped into the snow. He glimpsed a maintenance building in the trees.

Don’t , his rational head warned.

He felt for his key card, tried it against the mechanism on the outside and saw it turn green. He stepped into the cold and let the door lock behind him.

TO HELL WITH IT . That was what Sopi had been thinking the whole time she’d been scrubbing the saunas. She felt grimy and sweaty and resentful and entitled to enjoy herself .

Not in the treated waters of the hot pool, though. No, she was going to the source, the original spring that had been formed by long-ago explorers, possibly ancestors of the nearest First Nations tribe. No one knew exactly who had dammed the hot water trickling out of the mossy ground, forming a small bathing pool on a bluff in the woods, but through the 1800s and into the early 1900s the small swimming hole had been used by hunters and snowshoers who heard about it through word of mouth.

Eventually, an enterprising railway baron had built the first rustic hotel here. He had brought in a crew to dig a proper pool by hand, and that hole had eventually become what was the indoor pool today. He had lined it and filled it with snow that he melted and heated by piping water from this tiny hot spring. Since this natural, rocky pool was impossible to clean, the hotel wasn’t allowed to let guests use it. It was kept as a heat source and a point of interest. In the summer, the gate next to the pump house was left unlocked so guests could picnic on the bench nearby, enjoying the view of the lake and the soothing trickle of the water.

Tonight, Sopi’s were the only footsteps as she veered off the path to the maintenance shed and wound through the trees. The snow wasn’t too deep under the laden evergreens, but she was only wearing sandals. By the time she emerged and shoved at the gate to open it against the accumulation of snow, her feet were frozen and aching.

She waded through the knee-high snow the final few yards. As she reached the edge of the pool, she kicked off her sandals and stepped into the hot water. It hurt like mad, but was a relief, too.

She hadn’t been to the pool in a long time. Not since she had come out here to cry after getting the news her father had passed from a sudden heart attack. This had always been her sad place, and that moment had been one of her saddest. Since it wasn’t something she liked to revisit, she didn’t come here often.

She had forgotten how peaceful it was, though. The height of the trees hid it from hotel windows. The only reminders of civilization were the fence and gate and the distant hum of the pump house. She turned her back on those man-made things and faced the lake. The slope fell away, allowing a clear view of its sparkling, snow-blanketed surface.

The longer she stood here, the better she felt. The waters truly were capable of healing, she decided with a sigh of reclaimed calm. She started to pull her top up over her head but froze when she heard the crunch of footsteps.

Really? She almost screamed in frustration. Who? Why? She twisted to glare at—

“Oh.”

“You’re not supposed to swim alone.” The prince’s breath fogged against the frosty air. He wore his robe and rattled the gate to open it farther before he took long strides through the snow in his slippers. As he came closer, she was able to read his frown of dismay in the moonlight reflecting as a faint blue glow off the surrounding snow. He abandoned his slippers next to her sandals and stepped into the water, hissing at the bite of heat.

She looked back the way he’d come, expecting at least a few bodyguards and one or two of his cohorts, if not a full harem of adoring women.

“Are you lost? What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“What are you doing here?”

“You inspired me,” she admitted truthfully, although Nanette’s pithy talk of refusing to compromise had also lit a fire of rebellion in her.

“To try skinny-dipping? This is hotter than the pool.”

“It is. Too hot in the summer, which is the only time this area is open to the public.” She nodded at the sign obscured by a buildup of frozen condensation. “No swimming allowed.”