Charlene Sands - The Montoros Affair - The Princess and the Player / Maid for a Magnate / A Royal Temptation

Holding her breath, she pulled the sheets from the furnishings, raising a tornado of dust that made her sneeze. Once all the sheets were in a pile in the corner, she dashed from the room to give all the flurries a chance to settle. Using her phone as a flashlight, she found a broom in one of the closets of the old-fashioned kitchen.

“Cinderella, at your service,” she muttered and carried the broom like a sword in front of her in case she ran into something crawly since her knight had left.

By the time he returned, the sun had started to set. She’d swept the majority of the dust from the room and whacked the cobwebs from the corners and chandelier. The throaty growl of the Lamborghini echoed through the great room as James came up the drive and parked. The car door slammed and James appeared in the open doorway, his arms weighted down with bags.

“Wow.” He whistled. “This place was something back in the day, huh?”

She glanced around at the rich furnishings, which were clearly high-end, even for antiques, and still quite functional if you didn’t mind the grime. “It’s a property owned by royalty. I guess they didn’t spare much expense, regardless of the location. I wonder why no one has been here for so long?”

And why all these lovely antiques were still here, like ghosts frozen in time until someone broke the spell.

“Tantaberra liked Del Sol.” James set his bags down carefully on the coffee table and began pulling out his bounty. “My guess is this was too far out of the limelight and too pedestrian for his taste.”

A variety of candles appeared from the depths of the first bag. James scouted around until he found an empty three-pronged candelabra, screwed tapers into it and then flicked a lighter with his other hand. He shut the front door, plunging the room into full darkness. The soft glow of the candles bathed his face in mellow light and she forgot all about the mystery of this farmhouse as he set the candelabra on the mantel behind the brocade couch.

“Nice. What else did you bring me?” Bella asked, intrigued at the sheer number of bags James had returned with. She’d expected dinner and that was about it.

“The most important thing.” He yanked a plaid blanket from the second bag and spread it out on the floor. “Can’t have you dining on these rough plank floors, now can we?”

She shook her head with a smile and knelt down on the soft blanket to watch him continue unpacking. It seemed as if he’d thought of everything, down to such necessary but unique details as a blanket and candles. It was a quality she would never have thought to admire or even notice. And in James, it was potently attractive.

“Second most important—wine.” He plunked the bottle next to her and pulled out two plastic cups. “Not the finest stemware. Sorry. It was the best I could do.”

His chagrin was heartbreakingly honest. Did he think she’d turn up her nose at his offering? Well, some women probably would, but not Bella.

“It’s perfect,” she said sincerely. “If you’ll give me the corkscrew, I’ll pour while you show me what else you found in town.”

He handed her a small black-cased device of some sort. It looked like a pocketknife and she eyed it curiously until he flicked out the corkscrew with a half laugh. “Never seen one of these before?”

“My wine is typically poured for me,” she informed him pertly with a mock haughty sneer, lady-of-the-manor style. “Cut me some slack.”

Instead of grinning back, he dropped to the blanket and took her hand. “This is a crappy first date. I wish I could have taken you to dinner in Del Sol, like I’d planned. You deserve to be waited on hand and foot and for me to make love to you on silk sheets. I’m sorry that things are so out of control for us right now. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Oh, James.” Stricken, she stared into his gorgeous aqua eyes flickering in the candlelight. “This is exactly what I’ve been envisioning since I got in the car back at the beach. I don’t need a three-hundred-euro dinner. I just want to be with you.”

“You’re a princess,” he insisted fiercely. “I want to treat you like the royalty you are.”

Good grief. Was all this because of the stupid joke she’d made about being high maintenance? Obviously he’d taken her at her word. Backpedaling time.

“You do that every time we’re together. Encouraging me to make my own choices about who I date. Bringing me to the farmhouse simply because I asked, without telling me it was crazy. Holding me when I cry. Being my hero by making this night romantic with ingenuity and flair, despite the less than stellar accommodations. How could I possibly find fault in any of that?”

A little overcome, she stared at him, hoping to impart her sincerity by osmosis. Because he was amazing and somehow verbalizing it made it more real. Who else in her life had ever done such wonderful things for her? No one. Tender, fledgling feelings for James welled up and nearly splashed over.

He scowled. “I did those things because you needed me to. Not because you’re a princess.”

Silly man. He didn’t get what she was saying at all. “But don’t you see? I need someone to treat me like me . Because you see me and aren’t wrapped up in all the royal trappings, which are essentially meaningless at the end of the day.”

That was the mistake her father had made, trying to pawn her off on Will. And Will was nearly as bad. Everyone was far more impressed with her royal pedigree than she ever was. Everyone except James. And now he was being all weird about it.

Just as fiercely, she gripped his hand. “I wasn’t a princess last year and if you’d met me then, wouldn’t you have tried to give me what I needed instead of trying to cater to some idea you have about how a girl with royal blood should expect you to act?”

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “I would. I just didn’t want this to be so disappointing for you. Not our first time together.”

Seriously? After the way he’d kissed her on the terrace? There was no freaking way he’d disappoint her, whether it was their first time or hundredth time. The location hardly mattered. She wanted the man, not some luxury vacation. If he thought dollar signs turned her on, she’d done something wrong.

“Our first time together cannot be disappointing, because you’re half the equation,” she chided gently. “I expect fireworks simply because you’re the one setting them off. Okay?”

He searched her expression, brows drawn together. “If you’re sure.”

She caressed his arm soothingly, hoping to loosen him up a little. The romantic candlelit atmosphere was going to waste and that was a shame. “Yeah. Now show me what else is in your magic bag.”

With a grin, he grabbed the last bag. He fished out a roll of salami, which he set by the wine, then lined up a wedge of cheese, boxed crackers and a string of grapes. “Dinner. I wish it—”

“Stop. It’s food and I’m hungry. Sit down and let’s eat it while you tell me stories about growing up in Alma.” Patting the blanket, she concentrated on opening the wine, her one self-appointed task in the evening’s preparations. It was tougher to pierce the cork than she’d anticipated.

Instead of complying with her suggestion, he took the bottle from her hands and expertly popped the cork in under fifteen seconds.

“You’ve done that before,” she accused with a laugh as he poured two very full glasses of the chilled white wine. It was pretty good for a no-name label and she swallowed a healthy bit.

“Yep. I’m a master of all things decadent.” He arched a brow and plucked a grape from the bunch to run it across her lips with slow sensuality that fanned heat across her skin instantly. “Hurry up and eat so I can show you.”