‘This is highly irregular, Miss Roberts,’ the personal assistant protested after Mackenzie knocked on the door to Devereaux’s suite and demanded entrance.
‘I understand, but it’s a matter of urgency,’ she told Hans. ‘Please tell Prince Devereaux I need to see him, now.’
‘The prince hasn’t yet returned to the palace from his evening out.’
Mac pressed her lips together tightly as she tried to keep a handle on her anger. ‘You and I both know that’s not the case, so I’ll count to three and if you still refuse, I’ll go to see King Gabriel.’ The technique always worked on Eliza but this immovable wall of grown man who stood between her and the prince’s apartment wasn’t having a bar of it.
Hans folded his arms across his chest. ‘Miss Roberts, I assure you—’
‘Fine. If you won’t flush him out, I will.’ With his arms folded, she seized the opportunity to try to push past the personal assistant, but the man’s reflexes were too quick. His arms were uncrossed in a second and his hands arrested her movement.
‘Let me go!’
‘Hans!’ Finally, Devereaux appeared. ‘It’s okay. Let her through.’
Her blood flowed hot with anger after her confrontation with the personal assistant, but one look at Devereaux made her senses spin and her heart pound somewhere close to her throat. It looked like the dark blue bathrobe was all he wore. His hair was wet and a white towel draped over his divinely broad shoulders.
Mac’s thought processes turned to mush. Devastatingly handsome didn’t even begin to describe him.
Hans released her and gave a half bow to the prince. ‘As you wish, Your Highness.’
‘You can leave us,’ Devereaux told him.
Mac straightened, one hand going automatically to rub at the place where Hans had held her other wrist.
Concern shadowed Devereaux’s eyes and he shot a frown at Hans’ retreating form. ‘Show me your arm, Mackenzie.’
‘It’s nothing.’
He stepped closer, his arm outstretched as he gestured to her to show him her wrist. ‘I apologise. Hans takes his job seriously.’
She put her hands behind her back, unwilling to let him touch her. ‘Is he your personal assistant, butler or bodyguard?’ She wished her vision wasn’t glued to the naked, tanned skin at the vee of Deveraux’s bathrobe, but she was transfixed by the light smattering of dark hair on his chest. She wanted to reach up and place her palms against his flesh. She wanted to absorb his heat, explore the hard planes of his torso and feel the crispness which covered it.
‘All of the above. Please, show me your wrist.’
‘Really, it’s nothing,’ she emphasised.
Something electric arced in the air. It surrounded and enclosed them in a space where only they existed. The charged, crackling atmosphere made her super-aware of every little detail about him and reignited her sexual longing. She willed herself to remember why she’d come. ‘Why did Hans lie to me when I told him I needed to see you?’
His head moved a fraction. ‘What did he lie about?’
‘He told me you hadn’t returned from your evening out.’
Devereaux shrugged. ‘It’s nearly one am, Mackenzie. Did you really expect him to let you in?’
‘I told him I needed you urgently.’
One dark brow winged its way up into a question and a smile played around his lips. ‘You need me urgently?’
‘Yes.’ Oh geez. Too late, she registered his whole manner should’ve warned her he referred to sexual need.
‘I like the sound of that.’
‘No!’ Even as she made the automatic denial, her mouth dried and she had to swallow. She wasn’t an accomplished liar and she realised her compelling, physical need for him must be stamped on each feature. Her desire became a burning ache—impossible to ignore.
He took another step closer. ‘Yes or no? Which is it, Mackenzie?’
The blue depths of his eyes were mesmerising. Hypnotising. Without even knowing it, she relaxed and her arms came back to her sides from where they’d hidden behind her back.
Immediately, he reached out and took her hand, making a clicking sound of disapproval with his tongue as his thumb soothed over the slightly reddened flesh at her inner wrist. ‘Way more force than was necessary. I’ll speak with Hans about this.’
His thumb continued to rub in small circles, working its way along to her palm. Her skin heated under his touch. Fiery arrow tips shot from her palm, up her arm, across her chest and lodged deep within her womb, setting the whole space alight.
Holding her gaze, Devereaux lifted her hand and placed his lips on the slightly bruised flesh of her inner wrist in a very gallant gesture. ‘I’m sorry he hurt you.’
It was too much, yet way too little. Too intense, yet not nearly passionate enough as her entire body knew an extreme yearning to be taken into his arms. It was a craving more forceful, more urgent, than ever before.
‘I need information,’ she blurted in an attempt to pull out of the sexual trance she was under.
His eyes opened wider in disbelief. ‘At this hour of the morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t say I admire your dedication to your job. You’re a beautiful woman, Mackenzie. At this hour, you should be in bed with a lover—making love or sound asleep in his arms.’ One finger traced the shape of her lips. ‘I’m available.’
Her heart did cartwheels.
His offer shouldn’t tempt her. She shouldn’t fantasise about going to bed with a man she barely knew—a man whose reputation was the antithesis of everything she admired.
A man who had just been kissing a blonde at Club Tango!
The thought had the same effect on her ardour as being doused with a bucket of icy cold water. It pulled her up sharply and brought her back to the reason she was here. ‘Why are you here in your suite?’
‘Where else would I be?’ He shook his head in confusion. ‘It may have escaped your attention but I live here at the palace.’
Damn his mockery! ‘I mean, why aren’t you with the blonde, or why isn’t she here with you?’
‘What blonde?’ The words were sharp and his easy demeanour disappeared.
‘The one you were with at Club Tango.’ She knew some satisfaction to see him grapple with her question. ‘The one who was at your side and in your limousine when you left the club.’
His hold on her hand firmed just a fraction. ‘How do you know what I did?’
‘I was there.’ She stood her ground and refused to be intimidated by his piercing gaze.
‘At Club Tango?’
‘Yes.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘Why shouldn’t I have been there?’ she threw at him with defiance and pulled away from his touch. ‘It might be an expensive nightclub, but it’s a public one.’
‘Do you regularly hit nightspots and leave your daughter alone?’
The censure in his voice made her spine prickle in indignation. ‘I haven’t been to a club since before Eliza was born, and I hardly think you’re qualified to question my parenting.’
‘So why Club Tango?’ he challenged. ‘Why tonight?’
‘I followed you.’
He didn’t even bother to hide his incredulity. ‘You stalked me to a nightclub?’
It sounded bad when he put it like that. ‘That’s not how it was.’
‘You need me urgently—you admitted it yourself. Is that why you followed me?’
‘No!’
‘I don’t understand, Mackenzie. You admit your need for me, you follow me to a nightclub, but now you want to bombard me with questions when you could be sharing my bed?’
‘Damn it, Devereaux! I didn’t follow you to the club for sex.’ He’d twisted everything and rattled her. ‘I went to see you in your evening environment and to get the answers you don’t want to supply.’
‘You were there watching me?’ His hands clamped down on her shoulders. ‘Spying on me?’
‘Your brother’s hired me to do a job,’ she told him in defence of her actions. ‘I need to know who I’m dealing with—what situation I’m dealing with. I can’t work on your reputation if something’s about to blow up in my face.’
‘What on earth do you imagine is going to blow up?’ Releasing his hold on her, he threw his hands up and laughed in a mocking way, but she saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.
‘Before tonight, I had no idea. At worst I wondered about a secret lover, a secret baby … I even wondered if you were gay.’
‘Definitely none of the above, Mackenzie,’ he scoffed. ‘You need to concentrate on your brief here and stop letting your imagination run wild,’ he told her abruptly. ‘Gabriel’s asked you to reinvent my public image. What I do in my private time has nothing to do with you.’
‘It has everything to do with me if you don’t do it in private! Tonight, you pretended to be drunk. You left with a blonde woman and the photographer outside the club assumed, like everybody else did, that you’d scored yourself another blonde “hottie” for the night— his words.’ She shook her head and willed him to explain his behaviour. ‘It seems like you’re creating a smokescreen around you. Your womanising, your drunkenness, telling me you dislike kids … I’m starting to believe none of it’s real, yet I don’t know why you’d go to such lengths to pretend to be something you’re not—especially when you’re manufacturing negative personality traits.’
‘It’s no smokescreen.’
She resisted the urge to stamp her foot down as she made her point. ‘I know none of it is true. You rescued Eliza, you knew and cared enough about Jemma to find her and see she received the medical care she required. You’re not drunk and you’re not spending the night with a woman, so why pretend? What are you hiding?’
Slashes of red appeared along his high cheekbones and his eyes were chips of hard, blue sapphires. ‘I would be with the woman from the club, but my “blonde hottie” as you call her, had too much to drink.’ For all that she could feel his anger emanating towards her from every pore, he didn’t quite meet her eyes as he spoke. She got the distinct impression he was thinking on the run. ‘I might enjoy a variety of lovers, but I prefer the women in my bed to be sober.’
‘She didn’t look drunk to me,’ she argued.
Unless she’d been drunk on the taste of Devereaux’s mouth and the feel of those strong arms around her. Mac knew from personal experience that his kisses and touch were intoxicating.
Don’t go there!
‘When I realised she’d drunk too much, I sent her home.’ His hand moved in a dismissive gesture. ‘I’d only just finished taking a cold shower, when you stopped by.’ His eyes snared hers as he took a step closer. ‘Are you certain you won’t serve as an impromptu replacement? We’re quite alone … No risk of discovery … Eliza tucked up safe and securely in her bed …’
Mac saw through his attempt to change the subject. She was almost certain he wanted to wrong-foot her or throw her off her trail of questions—that he wanted her to be distracted by this constant thrum of sexual energy between them. She even got the distinct feeling he deliberately insulted her by referring to her as an impromptu replacement.
Although the sexual pull was strong, the sense of mystery was stronger right now. She couldn’t allow him to keep avoiding her questions. ‘It doesn’t add up. Your drunken would-be lover doesn’t explain your own pretence at being inebriated,’ she persisted.
‘I imbibed a little too much tonight, but I recover fairly quickly from drinking to excess.’
‘Let’s get to the real reason you went to the club tonight.’ She crossed her arms over her chest.
His eyes narrowed and he pinned her with a hard stare but remained silent.
‘Who was the man you met with in the manager’s office?’
She could almost feel his need to draw in a shocked breath.
‘You were busy tonight,’ he drawled.
‘The man?’ she hammered.
‘I don’t have to answer your question, but I’ve nothing to hide, so I will. I caught up with an old friend from university days.’
Another lie.
Her arms uncrossed and she moved her hands upward in an abrupt, jerky gesture of frustration and disbelief. ‘In a pre-arranged meeting at midnight? A man who has his own minders?’
‘He guards his privacy zealously.’
‘Hence the meeting at a trendy nightclub rather than in a private room here at the palace, or inviting you to join him at his place, or his hotel room or wherever he’s staying,’ she said sarcastically, not bothering to hide her absolute scorn for his ridiculous story.
‘He’s very wealthy. Eccentricity sometimes accompanies extreme wealth.’
‘Oh, come on, Devereaux! You don’t expect me to believe that!’
‘Believe what you will.’
‘You were with him for all of five minutes. That’s a pretty short catch-up.’
‘We realised we don’t have much in common these days.’ He raised his hand up to his mouth and covered what she was sure was a feigned yawn. ‘It’s late, Mackenzie. I’ve done you the courtesy of answering questions you’ve no right to ask. If you didn’t come here for sex, I’ll say goodnight.’
He started to turn away from her and her hand shot out to detain him. She’d barely touched him when she had to let him go to disconnect the electric current that shot straight down to the juncture of her thighs.
Swallowing hard on her physical response she pushed, ‘Are you involved in something criminal?’
‘You’re out of line.’ A note of anger crept into his voice as he turned back to her.
‘What’s your connection with the Ploutos Corporation?’
He froze at the mention of the company and she saw the shock in his eyes before he looked away from her.
‘Was the man you met in the manager’s office the elusive owner of Ploutos?’ she demanded.