Lessons in Seduction (10 page)

The girl nodded, the rabbit ears on her ski hat bobbing. “I can't find my daddy.” Her bottom lip and her voice trembled.

“That's okay,” Danni said brightly, “because I know how to find lost daddies.”

“Do you?”

“I sure do.” She passed her skis to Adam.

“There's an information kiosk just over there,” he said quietly to her.

She turned back to the girl. “Hold my hand and we'll go to that little building.” She pointed to the kiosk, where a number of people were milling around. “They have a special place for lost fathers.”

The girl put her gloved hand into Danni's. “What's your name?”

“Georgia.”

“Come on then, Georgia. Let's go find your daddy. I'll bet he's really worried.” Danni quietly prayed that Daddy had noticed the missing child and would also have gone to the kiosk.

Adam walked ahead of them, cutting a path through the crowd. At the kiosk he tapped on the shoulder of a tall man gesticulating wildly, who stopped and turned. Adam pointed out Danni and Georgia and the man came running. “Is that your daddy?” Danni asked the girl.

Georgia saw her father, said “Daddy,” and promptly burst into tears. The man scooped up Georgia, enfolding her in a hug. “Are you okay, honey?”

Georgia nodded into her father's shoulder, her sobs subsiding. “The pretty lady knew how to find lost daddies.”

He swung an arm around Danni and pulled her into a fierce embrace. “Thank you, thank you. I only turned around for a moment. And then she was gone.” His voice was marginally steadier than his daughter's had been earlier.

“She's fine.” Danni disentangled herself from father and daughter. “And a lovely girl. Enjoy your skiing.” She wasn't even sure he heard, he was so busy hugging his daughter.

She turned to find Adam standing close by. “You handled that well,” he said, admiration in his eyes.

“Thanks.”

“Pretty lady.”

“Enough with the sarcasm.”

“I don't think Georgia was being sarcastic.”

“I didn't mean Georgia.”

“Neither did I.”

And she wanted too much to believe him. “Let's see if you're still calling me
pretty lady
when I beat you to the bottom of the first run.”

He tipped his head to the side. “It's all right to accept a compliment, Danni.”

No. It wasn't. It wasn't all right to accept or believe in Adam's compliments. It wasn't all right to have this conversation with him. “Frightened of losing? Is that why you're being nice? So I'll go easy on you in return?”

He sighed. “Come on then. Show me what you've got.”

 

It was late afternoon before they got back to Blake's chalet. They'd intended to return at noon. But the conditions on the slopes had been perfect. As they'd skied they'd slipped into the easy camaraderie they'd once had—at times teasing, at times earnest, always effortless. For the second part of the afternoon, when they should have been packed and departing the chalet, each time they'd made it to the bottom of a run, they'd looked at each other and one or the other of them had suggested,
one more.

Technically Adam was a better skier than she was, a joy to watch as he swerved and swooped effortlessly down the runs, but while she couldn't quite match him in sheer skill and grace she made up for it in determination and what he'd laughingly called recklessness as she'd skidded to a stop mere inches from him at the bottom of a run.

For the afternoon, she'd allowed herself to forget who he really was, helped by the fact that if they recognized him nobody on the ski field called attention to
who he was. So, it was a day without cameras or protocol or excessive politeness and deferential or preferential treatment. He'd waited in line with her at the small cafeteria, his hat low on his forehead and his glasses on, and sat outside at the picnic table where they'd sipped their hot drinks and eaten pizza before taking to the slopes again.

“We'll head back tomorrow morning,” he said as they approached Blake's chalet.

She questioned him with a look but he gave no explanation. He never did. Not to her and, she was guessing, seldom to anyone. Their plan, when they'd stretched out their time on the slopes, had been to head back straight away once they were finished. She didn't want to ask whether he now wanted to stay because he wanted the day—with her—to continue. Like the day at Disneyland she'd once had as a kid, a day that she couldn't bear to end. But perhaps he was just tired and didn't feel like the drive, or perhaps he didn't want her driving after a day's skiing. Assuming they were ignoring the whole
you're fired
thing and that he would let her drive anyway. Always with Adam there were so many questions in her head because he let no one see what was going on in
his
head.

And the weak part of her that she'd denied for so long was just grateful that she would get to spend more time with him. Every minute delighting her. She wasn't going to question that. Not yet.

They stepped inside and stowed their gear in the drying room. But with the divestment of their outer layers, Adam seemed to put on an invisible layer of reserve, something that had been blessedly missing all day. He'd put it on as she'd taken off her jacket, and it
became even more noticeable as she passed by him to exit the drying room. He backed almost imperceptibly away from her.

They walked silently to the living room.

Blake welcomed them with his customary verbose good humor, insisting that he'd have mulled wine ready for them in front of the fire as soon as they'd—and he used his fingers as quotation marks—freshened up.

So she showered and thought of Adam. Thought of the deep pleasure she'd found just being with him today. She'd sat on the chairlift with him, the hum of the wheel on the cable the only sound interrupting the deep quiet that was peculiar to snow. Sometimes they'd talked on the chairs, and sometimes they'd just sat. Both ways were easy. Both were blissful.

She was a fool. And she didn't know how to stop it.

She'd had relationships before, but they'd been mutual. And clear. Superficial and uncomplicated. Nothing like this.

This one-sided wanting was so much harder to deal with, so much harder to hide. She knew he did what he thought was best for her—but he had no idea. His definition of
best
and hers were poles apart.

He was passing her door when she left her room, self-conscious in a dress and heels.

Adam, as always, looked totally at ease. A soft black cashmere sweater stretched across his shoulders and hinted at the definition of his chest. He held out his arm for her, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe for him it was. Doubtless he had held out his arm to women to escort them to dinner almost every night. But for her, just sliding her hand onto his
forearm filled her with new sensations. Made her blood rush faster. It made no sense. They'd spent the whole day together. And she'd thought she'd put yesterday's insanity behind her. They'd been close the whole day. And though she'd had wayward thoughts, they hadn't had the intensity that gripped her now. She'd been able, so long as she wasn't looking at his lips, to put their kisses from her mind and not crave more.

But they'd also had on layers and layers of clothes. And she was acutely aware that she'd never touched him before in this supposedly neutral fashion, not since she was a kid when touch meant nothing except friendship, when touch didn't light fires of connection and possibility within her.

Resting her palm on the softness of his sweater, feeling the strength and warmth beneath it, well, it did bad, bad things to her. Made her think bad, bad thoughts. She wanted to lean in, inhale more deeply of his scent, the scent of freshly showered male. And she wanted his lips on hers, and his hands on her. She wanted to know so much more about him than he let her see.

What she needed, on the other hand, was to get farther away from him. So that her brain could start functioning properly again, so that she remembered who she was. And who he was. And that he was looking for a wife. One who met his criteria. Not a temporary fling with his temporary driver.

But, a little voice whispered,
that wouldn't be so bad, would it?

His step slowed and she looked up to see his gaze on her. “What is it? Do I have toothpaste on my lip?” She ran her tongue around her lips to check. He shook his head and looked away.

“You look—” he cleared his throat “—nice. That's all.”

“Nice?”

“Lame compliment, I know. But I don't think the right word to describe you exists. And in that dress…” His gaze swept over her; it didn't linger but there was something in it that warmed her. “Your legs…I scarcely knew you had any.”

Danni laughed at his uncharacteristic awkwardness. She'd brought the simple black dress because it traveled well and still made her feel feminine, as did the glint of male appreciation in Adam's eyes. “I hope that's not supposed to be a better compliment.” She tried to make light of the reaction to him that was sweeping through her.

His laughter was little more than a breath. But it warmed her further and compensated somewhat for the “nice.” Not the best compliment she'd ever had. But coming from Adam, who doubtless had a wealth of sophisticated flattery at the tip of his tongue, it felt honest. And making him laugh always felt like a triumph.

The laughter was still there in his eyes as they held hers for a second.

He started walking again. Oh yes. She knew how he thought of her. As a kid. Almost a sister. That was why his “nice” had felt honest. Danni slid her hand from his arm on the pretext of adjusting her dress. And didn't put it back.
Nice.
It made her realize how much more she wanted from him.

Blake met them as they came down the stairs and insisted they sit in front of the fire while he brought the mulled wine. Adam tilted his head toward the chess set
and when she nodded, he shifted it so that it sat between them.

He adjusted the pieces on his side of the board and looked up. “I owe you an apology and my thanks.”

“An apology
and
thanks. Wow. That's a big day for you. I'm a little shocked.”

“I'm serious, Danni.”

“So am I.”

He shook his head but a grin tugged at his lips. “Wait till you hear me tell you that you were right.”

She slapped her hand to her chest and gasped. This was how she was supposed to behave—the teasing friend, not a woman whose mind was steaming down a one-way track that ended with his bones being jumped.

His grin widened briefly before disappearing. “I haven't had a day like that, as good as that, in…I don't know how long. I skied and forgot about almost everything. Forgot about brewing diplomatic crises and security concerns and upcoming engagements and speeches. Forgot about looking for—thinking of the future.” Had he been going to say looking for a wife? “And I owe you for that. You made a good decision when you brought me here.”

“Thank you.”

“Nobody else would have seen that or done that.”

“Because they're all too scared of you.”

“Scared?” He sat back in his chair, his brows drawn together. “No they're not.”

“In awe, might be a better word. Though I fail to see why.” He was just a man doing his job. His job happened to be fairly high profile. But it was still just a job. And a demanding one that he needed time out from occasionally. Who was she kidding? Even she felt
the awe occasionally. But in her case it was because of who he was, not what he was.

“I can live with awe,” he said with a faint smile.

“It's not good for you. You'll lose touch with reality. You'll get a big head.”

“A big head?”

Big Head
was what she used to call him when he got all superior on her when she was younger.

Now he was laughing at her. Not out loud. But inside. She just knew it. And she felt her lips twitch in response.

“Thankfully I have you to keep me humble.”

And scarily, she wanted to do far more than keep him humble. Things she wasn't supposed to want to do to a prince. It was there somewhere deep inside her, a humming attraction to him. Stronger when she was closest but always there. And she didn't know how to make it go away.

“I needed today. So thank you.”

He'd needed today. He'd needed the time out. But he didn't need her. She bit her lip. She shouldn't want him to need her. But wanting her, just a little, wasn't she allowed to want that?

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“You enjoyed today?”

“Yes.” Way too much.

“You seem thoughtful.”

“I'm fine,” she said a little too brightly. “Tired. In a good way. And hungry.” In a bad way.

It had happened again. Since coming back here, the ease she'd felt with him had turned to dis-ease. The
stiffness and politeness that he used to keep people at a distance was creeping back.

“So, are we going to play?”

“Sure. Can't wait to whip your…”

“My?”

She loved it when he smiled like that, knowledge in his eyes. “Your fine royal ass.”

“Have at it.”

If only.

They'd scarcely started when Blake returned with their drinks. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour. And you'll be relieved to know that the chef finally turned up. And whatever it is he's cooking, it smells good.”

They sat in front of the fire, the chess set between them. The game gave her something other than Adam to focus on. But it wasn't enough of a distraction to keep her from noticing his hands as he moved his pieces and wanting those hands on her, or the deep concentration on his face when she stole looks at him while his attention was focused on the board, and wanting it focused on her.