Riley closed the door to her bedroom and sighed. Hanging out with Jag in a group of people was one thing, but one on one for the entire day? Ugh. Was it okay to drink this early in the morning? It had to be five o’clock somewhere, right? In a crowd, she could disappear into the backdrop, but now the pressure was on to make conversation. And eye contact. And other kinds of contact.

She swallowed. Conversation. Yeah, like that wasn’t the joke of the century. Whenever Jag so much as looked her way, her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth, rendering her speechless. Not exactly convenient considering what needed to get done today.

Plopping down on the edge of her mattress, Riley looked at her reflection in the armoire’s mirrored doors across from her bed.

Totally not his type.

At least that part was true despite the fact Jag Kasaval had the leading role in every one of her daydreams and late-night fantasies since she first laid eyes on him.

A thunderbolt hit her square in the chest when she first saw him that afternoon in the throne room, sizzling to the sweet spot between her legs. Ivy was missing. But even through her worry about Ivy, thoughts of his rugged, handsome face and muscled body pushed past.

She went to bed that night praying her friend was safe, but also that Jag would come back and notice her. She wasn’t like Henley. Spirited and outspoken. Or even Ivy. Sassy and strong. She was the quiet one. Private.

The mood walls in her room turned pale lavender. The shade was reassuring and a sense of determined calm spread across her mind. She had a job to do. People were counting on her to get it right, and Jag could either help or not. Pride in a job well done was something she prized, and no one, not even her living, breathing fantasy was going to get in the way of that.

Looking at the armoire mirror, she smirked. “Okay, smarty. Since I know you’re gauging my mood like the rest of this room, pick something for me to wear that says it all. Quiet but strong, so watch out.”

Riley giggled to herself and headed into the bathroom to clean up. Gerri said try him on for size and that’s what she intended to do. She had less than a half hour to pull it together and meet Jag in the main hall.

* * *

Once last look in the mirror and Riley nodded. “Not bad,” she murmured.

Her ankle-length skirt skimmed her slight curves to where strappy flat sandals gave her a sexy turn of foot. A bright yellow camisole played off the skirt’s vivid colors, the shade highlighting the soft texture to her smooth mocha skin. Her dark springy curls twined past her shoulders, and she ran a hand over the rich mass, tucking a loose coil into place. She nodded once more, straightening her shoulders before heading for the door.

She walked at a quick pace toward the stairs leading to the main hall. Turning the corner at the end of the corridor, she stopped short, crashing headlong into a broad chest.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you…I didn’t mean to…” she stuttered, staggering back, embarrassed. What was up with this turn in the bend? The hallway needed a no speed walking sign or something.

The man she collided with was tall. Almost as tall as Jag, with cropped black hair and piercing dark eyes. Really pretty eyes. Like melted chocolate. He wore a dark maroon tunic and leather pants that seemed to mold to his body. Riley blinked. Yikes. He was hot with a capital H, like every other guy in the capital. Figured.

He smirked, and a small predatory smile curved his lips. “You must be one of our new queen’s friends. From Earth.”

“I’m sorry?” Riley asked, knowing the question sounded as stupid as she felt.

“The queen,” he repeated, his voice rough as a faint glow ringed his eyes. “Married to Vander Kasaval?”

She nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, I’m sorry. I am…I mean…I’m visiting with them. For the upcoming wedding and coronation.”

“I’m here for the same reason,” he said, inclining his head. “I am Sharan Dul, advisor to his Serene Lord of the Sands, Tar Navam. I’m representing the nomadic tribes that live past the sand ocean. Vander has been trying to unite the Palladian Oasis with the capital city for a long time.”

“I’m Riley. Riley Parks. Pleased to meet you.”

His predatory smirk spread, and he extended his hand, taking hers. “Riley. Such a strange name for one so—appealing.” He ran his thumb over her palm and then in small circular motions, squeezing ever so gently.

Did he just…

Oh, yes, he did.

Before she could say a word, he lifted her fingers to his lips, giving a soft kiss, lingering just a second longer than necessary. Wow. Talk about unexpected.

As if on cue, Karis came up the stairs from the main hall and stopped short, her eyes riveted on Sharan.

He looked up, and his smile changed from predatory to calculating. “Lady Karis. Always a pleasure to see one so wise and yet still so beautiful.”

Riley pulled her hand from his grasp and took a step back. “Sorry for being so clumsy.”

With a nod, he inclined his head once more. “Well, I hope we bump into each other again, perhaps when we can talk more.” He stepped past her and continued on his way, leaving her taken aback in his wake.

Okay? Surreal much?

First Jag and now this guy. Men like that didn’t happen to her. Ever. Riley shook her head in doubt and then remembered Karis standing there. The woman’s face was not happy. Was it because she secretly wanted her with Jag or was there something about Sharan what’s-his-name she didn’t like? She made a mental note to ask Gerri later.

Karis wasn’t usually one to judge, and with everything that happened with Ivy’s kidnapping, it was best to keep strangers a little strange. Especially since there was so much to do. She glanced at her watch. She was late. Jag was probably waiting for her by the doors to the main hall.

Just the thought of him and his devil-may-care smile and gorgeous blue eyes made her face flush. Funny really. All Jag had to do was say hello and her hormones were all over the place. Yet a hot stranger kisses her hand with a look that sized her up as an appetizer for foreplay, and nothing. Not even a shiver.

Dammit.

She had it bad for the boy and she knew it. Jag knew it, too.

Dammit twice.

Still standing at the top of the stairs, Karis crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Shouldn’t you be meeting the prince about now?”

“Oh, yeah, I am…I mean, I was…rushing, that is, to meet Jag, when I crashed into Sharan.” High color burned Riley’s cheeks. “Literally. I nearly knocked the man over.” She twisted her fingers in the side seam of her skirt and moved past Karis to head down the first few steps.

The older woman’s brows knotted, and a slight frown tugged at her lips. “Sharan is quite the charmer, Riley. His dark eyes hold secrets and lures best left unexplored.”

Riley blinked at the woman’s warning tone. Karis really didn’t need to worry about Riley exploring anything on a man that wasn’t Jag. It was official, she was in lust with Casanova Kasaval. Not sure how to react and not wanting to get into a thing, she nodded once and then turned to continue down the steps, but something made her spare another glance for Karis.

Her pretty face was inscrutable, but the caution in her eyes made Riley’s throat tighten. What she saw wasn’t a threat. No. It was fear, and a wave of anxiety coursed through Riley’s chest that stopped her cold. Mental note, indeed. She opened her mouth to ask why, but before she could utter a word, Jag was halfway up the stairs.

“Hey!” He flashed a gorgeous grin. “I’m not used to being kept in suspense. Don’t we have delicacies to sample?”

Riley spared a look for Karis, but the woman was gone. She turned back to Jag, discomfited, but nodded just the same. “Yes, we do.”

“Well,” he grinned, holding out his hand. “Are you coming, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way?”

Her knees went weak at the thought, and she grabbed hold of the bannister to stop from stumbling to the stairs. Ivy might not like the caveman gene in the Kasaval men, but right now the thought of Jag carrying her off made her panties damp and her nipples ache. God, help her. She was spending the day with a man she said wasn’t her type and vice versa, yet she knew given the chance, she’d spread herself wide if he asked.

Goddamn Gerri Wilder. How the woman always knew was a mystery. Still, right now the only mystery she was interested in keeping was her feelings for the Kasaval Casanova. She had no intention of telling the man she would risk being a notch on his belt just to see if he tasted as good as he looked.

Again. Dammit.