Leanne Banks - Tall, Dark & Royal

He looked at her quizzically. “I’m surprised you didn’t drop it when Jordan crashed into you.”

She blinked. “Training, I guess, sir. Don’t lose your dignity, but if you do, don’t spill your tray.”

His lips twitched. “Your teacher should be proud.” He set the pizza box on top of an entertainment center and turned to the dog. “No pizza for you tonight. That’s no way to treat a lady,” he muttered.

Erin took a long look at the contrite dog. The animal was huge, with dark soulful eyes and large paws. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that particular breed, sir,” she said, unable to mask her curiosity. The beast looked like a combination of a brown bear and a bulldog.

Daniel ruffled the dog’s ears. “He’s a mixed breed,” he said, then shot Erin a look that mixed humor and undiluted masculine sex appeal. “Mixed breed. Kinda like me. Half Altarian royalty and half American rebel,” he said and led the whining dog to another room.

So true, she thought, except Daniel was much better-looking than his dog. Erin tried to collect her wits. Taking a deep breath, she wasn’t sure which had rattled her more, the dog rushing her or Daniel carrying her to the couch. Her books, she suddenly remembered, reining in her strange feelings. Focus on the job, she told herself, not His Majesty’s distracting body. Glancing toward the doorway, she saw the books on the floor. Daniel must have dropped them to catch her.

She moved her legs to rise from the sofa and felt a twinge. She looked down at her stockings. They were shredded and one of her legs was scratched and slightly bleeding.

Daniel returned to the room at that very moment. He swore again and rushed toward her, then bent down and gingerly touched her leg. “Damn. I’ll get some antiseptic and a bandage.”

Flustered, Erin shook her head. “That’s not necessary,” she said to his back as he strode from the room. She jumped to her feet to follow him. “Sir, this is not at all proper protocol,” she protested, but might as well have been talking to the dog for all the attention Daniel was paying her. As he entered the bathroom, she paused outside the door, uncertain what to do next.

She watched him collect some items from the medicine cabinet and run some water over a washcloth. He turned to face her. “Go back to the sofa,” he said, meeting her with a gaze that said he meant business.

“But, sir—”

“But nothing,” he returned, striding past her.

“My dog did this to you. I’m responsible.”

Distressed, she followed him into the living room again and resumed her seat on the sofa. “Sir, this truly is not appropriate.”

“What would be appropriate? For me to order a servant to take care of your scratch?”

“Yes, sir, or I could do it myself.”

He shook his head and knelt in front of her. “Neither of those choices work for me. I’m king, I’m pulling rank.” He glanced at her leg, then met her gaze. “You need to ditch your stockings.”

Erin’s heart climbed into her throat. Seeing the unswerving determination in his eyes, she held her breath for a full moment. She opened her mouth and closed it, then cleared her throat. “Could you please turn around, sir?” she asked in a voice that sounded high-pitched to her own ears.

Realization crossed his face. He shrugged. “Sure. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Try never, sir, she thought, as she pushed her stockings down her legs with unsteady hands. The horrified face of her finishing-school teacher flashed before her eyes. Erin had known this assignment would be challenging, but she’d never imagined finding herself in such an awkward position. Stepping out of her pumps, she pulled the shredded hose off her feet and tried again to collect herself.

“Ready?” he asked as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Yes, sir,” she said reluctantly.

He turned around and lifted his hands just above her knee to the scraped place on her leg. Her leg automatically stiffened. His gaze shot up to meet hers. “Sore?”

“A little, I suppose, sir,” she managed, too aware of the fact that His Majesty was kneeling before her. She felt the threat of her dreaded secret nervous response and closed her eyes. She took slow, soothing breaths and pictured a peaceful Swiss snowfall.

An odd intimacy seemed to swim between them when he touched her thigh. His hands were gentle as he cleaned the scrape and applied antibiotic ointment. He put on the bandage and Erin opened her eyes. She caught him looking at her painted toenails.

She couldn’t resist the urge to curl her toes into the carpet.

He skimmed his hand down her leg to her feet, sending an odd ripple through her. “These are going to get cold. I can give you some socks,” he offered, rising to his feet.

He looked down at her and held her gaze for a long moment in which the world seemed to turn on its axis. Erin held her breath. She watched his gaze dip to her lips for several heart-stopping seconds before he glanced away. Briefly, he shook his head, almost as if he’d considered kissing her, then come to his senses.

Erin wondered when she would come to her senses.

“Socks,” he muttered. “They may not make the kind of fashion statement you usually make, but you’ll be more comfortable.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Come to think of it, you’re not going to want to go back to your hotel with bare legs. I’ll get you a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.”

Erin felt a rush of panic. Wearing His Majesty’s clothes? How had this situation gotten so totally beyond her control? “Thank you very much, sir, but it’s truly not necessary.”

“Of course it is,” he said. “It’s January in Chicago. No one in their right mind faces the elements with bare skin,” he said, then his eyes glinted with masculine intensity. “Although it’s a damn shame to cover legs as nice as yours with sweatpants.”

Erin’s heart skipped over itself, and a rush of emotions swam through her. How was she supposed to accomplish her job, maintain appropriate distance and, as her father had requested, subtly discourage Daniel from accepting the throne, when Daniel was clearly determined to treat her as a human being more than as a protocol instructor? How, in heaven’s name, was she supposed to maintain her equilibrium when this man emanated enough electrical energy to burn her to a crisp?

As Erin sat on Daniel’s couch, it occurred to her that it was tough to remain proper and starchy when she was wearing a sweat suit that swallowed her. She stiffened her back. “I brought several books for your reference, sir,” she said. “This one is the most complete. I have another on royal etiquette, and I brought a book with pictures of the military uniforms you’ll wear for a variety of occasions. Some people absorb information more easily if it’s introduced in a visual manner.”

Daniel thumbed through one of the books and gave her a considering glance. “You thought I might need a picture book?”

Oops. She hoped she hadn’t insulted his intelligence. “With all the information you’re being given, sir, I thought it might be easier if some of it weren’t delivered to you in such a dry manner.”

One side of his lips lifted in a half grin. “I’m curious what you’ve been told about me.”

Erin sifted through half a dozen things her father had told her that couldn’t be repeated. “I know you’re thirty-four years old and you are Vice President of Marketing for the Connelly Corporation, sir. I’ve been told you attended college with a football scholarship and you’re as American as—” She searched her brain for the correct term. “As popcorn,” she said. “Or is it pie?”

He flashed his teeth in a grin. “Both will do.”