If You Could Read My Mind

by Jeanie London

  And when that woman showed up in the doorway of the exam room, silhouetted by the shadows of the dark hallway behind her, his gut gave a hard twist at the sight.

  Jillian looked so beautiful with reddish-blond hair waving around her face, her gaze caressing him in warm recognition, an expression that mirrored everything he felt inside. She flashed him a high-beam smile that twisted his gut a little more….

  It had been this way between them ever since their return from their fantasy weekend at Camp Cavelier. They’d come up with a working solution to growing apart, and were committed to carrying it out. He’d been amazed at how much time they’d found to enjoy being together in the weeks since. When the emphasis was where it belonged—on each other—everything else seemed to be fading back where it belonged.

  He was also amazed at how much he enjoyed finding new things to notice about this beautiful and competent woman he loved, and how much he enjoyed making her happy. There were definite perks to a happy Jillian, because the more he tried to please her, the more she tried to please him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Testing out the bite on my new crown.”

  “You ordered a new one?”

  He nodded.

  “I really don’t know what Widow Serafine was talking about. I didn’t see a thing wrong with the color.”

  He shrugged. “It can’t hurt. I’m tired of thinking about my teeth. Spend enough time thinking about my patients.”

  “And you need plenty of time to think about me.” She swept inside the exam room and crowded against him.

  Michael set the crown on the counter and wrapped his arms around her. “I do think about you. All the time.”

  He was paying attention to things he’d never noticed about her before, more than just reading her mind. They’d been married for seven years, yet, until recently, he’d never noticed the way she followed him with her eyes whenever he walked into a room. The way she blushed whenever he caught her watching. Jillian seemed to be ever-growing and ever-changing, and Michael knew he could make a lifetime study of her if he kept his eyes open.

  He wanted that lifetime.

  She’d recovered quickly from surgery, and the biopsy results confirmed what the doctors had suspected—the tumor had been benign. She’d have to undergo annual exams to ensure that another didn’t crop up and go undetected, but that was a result they would gratefully live with.

  Michael had also taken it upon himself to research holistic approaches to staying healthy and had been working behind the scenes to ensure they implemented them.

  One of the biggest suppressants of the immune system was stress, so he’d been keeping a close eye on Jillian’s schedule and using a variety of distractions to keep her from piling too much on her plate. Sex topped the list. As always, she was a very accommodating wife, and if she could cross junk food off her grocery list without mentioning it…

  “You think about me when you’re working?” Jillian asked.

  “I listen for your voice when you’re talking to patients. I can even tell when you’re coming down the hall.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “The floor’s laminate and every one of us wears rubber-soled shoes.”

  “Didn’t I ever mention that your legs are one of my favorite parts of your body? I know I must have. I’ve been noticing the way you walk since high school. You have a certain pace, all quick and light. I know it’s you. I’m never wrong.”

  “Never?”

  He brushed a silky wave from her temple. “Never. I look up, and there you are in the doorway, smiling that smile that makes me weak in the knees.”

  “Weak in the knees? Right. Horny is more like it.”

  “That’s a given.”

  “Speaking of…I’ve been thinking lately, Michael. Since you’ve been making all my fantasies come true, I should reciprocate, don’t you think? Only seems fair.”

  He’d spent so much time thinking about Jillian’s fantasies that if he’d had to name a fantasy of his own, he couldn’t have. “What do you know about my fantasies?”

  “Not enough, unfortunately, but that’s something I think we should address.” She stepped out of his arms, and her eyes glinted with a familiar playfulness that he was seeing more and more frequently lately.

  She backed away, reaching for the button at her throat with a deliberate motion. “That seems to be the place to start. Besides, I’m not totally in the dark. I do know a few things.”

  “You read minds?”

  She shook her head, sending glossy waves tumbling around her shoulders in a move that made him imagine running his fingers through her hair, over her smooth skin and all those sleek curves… “Then what do you know?”

  “Your fantasies involve me.”

  “That they do.”

  She turned her attention to sliding out of her uniform top, which suddenly didn’t look nearly so professional with a lacy bra and expanse of smooth stomach taunting him from between the parted fabric.

  “Have I mentioned how much I like all your new lingerie? I need to remember to send Stephanie something at Christmas to thank her.”

  “She’ll like that. She’s been contributing to my delinquency since the ninth grade.”

  Michael laughed and would have made a crack about Stephanie’s own delinquency taming into domesticity through the years, except that his mouth suddenly went dry when Jillian let her smock slither to the floor.

  Her bra followed.

  She stood there tantalizingly bare from the waist up, breasts swaying on her every breath. Michael folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter to enjoy the show, enjoying the way her breasts plumped forward invitingly when she leaned forward to shimmy her pants down.

  “You’re sure the office is locked up, Jilly? I’d hate for one of the staff to realize she’d forgotten something and come back. We won’t hear her until it is way too late.”

  “Charlotte never forgets anything. And neither Dianne nor Brandi would come back even if they did. They want out of here at the end of the day.”

  “Bold words.”

  She only smiled. “That’s something else I think you like.”

  “What?”

  “When I’m bold.”

  “Right again.” His body temperature went on a steady rise as she did a sexy shimmy to ease her pants over her hips, revealing a tiny scrap of lacy pink fabric between her thighs.

  He was definitely sending Stephanie a gift.

  But that was his last thought as his brain short-circuited. Jillian kicked her pants off to reveal those long, long legs that had admittedly been a part of his fantasies since as far back as he could remember.

  “I’ll bet you’re thinking about my legs wrapped around your waist right now, aren’t you, Michael?”

  “So you are a mind reader.” He was impressed with himself for getting the words out.

  She just laughed, a silky purr that crossed the distance between them as if it were alive…Then she leaned over to grab her pants off the floor, treating him to the sight of her firm bottom in nothing but that teensy thong. Bracing his hands on the counter, he stared at the sight of the two dimples above her cheeks and the thin strap that disappeared in between.

  His body went on red alert and his memory flooded with the knowledge of what her skin would feel like to his touch. Thanks to diet and exercise, he felt better than he had in a long time. He and Jillian had certainly been enjoying more sex than they had in forever, so why was he standing there with a hard-on like it was the first time he’d ever seen her naked?

  He wanted to push off the counter, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate. His heart pounded. His pulse throbbed so hard in his ears he almost missed it when she said in a voice that was pure temptation, “Your turn.”

  She sauntered toward him, all sleek curves and bold purpose. Then she started unbuttoning his lab coat.

  Ah, his turn to get naked.

  Michael managed to rally himself enough to lend his ef
fort to the cause. Their hands brushed together, fingers entwined as they divested him of his lab coat, his shirt, then went to work on his pants.

  Jillian pressed small kisses over his chest as she freed his erection. “Mmm. Someone’s happy to see me.”

  “Damn straight.”

  She slid her silken fingers along his hot skin, which jerked greedily in reply.

  “Come here, Michael.” She led him toward his dental chair with her hand still firmly on his dick.

  He could tell by the tone of her voice that she had something very specific in mind, but Michael couldn’t seem to rally up the energy to ask what it might be. He was more than content to let Jillian have her way with him, and found himself being pushed into his chair, much as she’d been in a fantasy he’d attempted to create not so long ago—before he’d honed his skills at creating fantasies.

  “You think my fantasy is to make love in my dental chair?” he asked to distract himself from the heat that was singeing his crotch. “We already did this.”

  “You’re right. Sort of.” She pressed him back. He obliged, stretching out, wincing as his naked ass squeaked on the pleather. “I think your fantasy is for me to get bold while you’re in the chair.”

  He didn’t get a chance to imagine those possibilities before she got the jump on him. The next thing Michael knew he was handcuffed to the chair.

  “We have definitely done this before.”

  “Sort of.” She eyed him boldly while reclining the chair, but every inch he went back tested his shoulder socket.

  “Hey, this is a strange position. Did your arm hurt when I had you cuffed like this?”

  She just smiled. “Trust me, in a few minutes you won’t remember you even have an arm.”

  Her words sent a sizzle of anticipation through him, and while he couldn’t hear Jillian’s thoughts right now, he was content to read all her sexy intentions in her warm eyes.

  Michael didn’t know if Widow Serafine’s magic would last forever, but when he thought about the promises he and Jillian had made to each other about being open and putting their relationship ahead of everything else in their lives, he knew those promises would last a lifetime.

  And that was when he decided to trash the crown. Just as soon as they finished playing out what was shaping up to be one hell of a fantasy…

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  “OH, NO!”

  The reaction slipped out before Emma Valentine could stop it, for there stood the very man she most wanted to avoid seeing again.

  He didn’t look any happier to see her.

  “Well, come on, get on board,” he said gruffly. “I won’t bite.” One eyebrow rose. “Though I might nibble a little,” he added, mostly to amuse himself.

  But she wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying. She was staring at him, taking in the royal blue uniform he was wearing, with gold braid and glistening badges decorating the sleeves, epaulettes and an upright collar. Ribbons and medals covered the breast of the short, fitted jacket. A gold-encrusted sabre hung at his side. And suddenly it was clear to her who this man really was.

  She gulped wordlessly. Reaching out, he took her elbow and pulled her aboard. The doors slid closed. And finally she found her tongue.

  “You…you’re the prince.”

  He nodded, barely glancing at her. “Yes. Of course.”

  She raised a hand and covered her mouth for a moment. “I should have known.”

  “Of course you should have. I don’t know why you didn’t.” He punched the ground-floor button to get the elevator moving again, then turned to look down at her. “A relatively bright five-year-old child would have tumbled to the truth right away.”

  Her shock faded as her indignation at his tone asserted itself. He might be the prince, but he was still just as annoying as he had been earlier that day.

  “A relatively bright five-year-old child without a bump on the head from a badly thrown water polo ball, maybe,” she said defensively. She wasn’t feeling woozy any longer and she wasn’t about to let him bully her, no matter how royal he was. “I was unconscious half the time.”

  “And just clueless the other half, I guess,” he said, looking bemused.

  The arrogance of the man was really galling.

  “I suppose you think your ‘royalness’ is so obvious it sort of shimmers around you for all to see?” she challenged. “Or better yet, oozes from your pores like…like sweat on a hot day?”

  “Something like that,” he acknowledged calmly. “Most people tumble to it pretty quickly. In fact, it’s hard to hide even when I want to avoid dealing with it.”

  “Poor baby,” she said, still resenting his manner. “I guess that works better with injured people who are half asleep.” Looking at him, she felt a strange emotion she couldn’t identify. It was as though she wanted to prove something to him, but she wasn’t sure what. “And anyway, you know you did your best to fool me,” she added.

  His brows knit together as though he really didn’t know what she was talking about. “I didn’t do a thing.”

  “You told me your name was Monty.”

  “It is.” He shrugged. “I have a lot of names. Some of them are too rude to be spoken to my face, I’m sure.” He glanced at her sideways, his hand on the hilt of his sabre. “Perhaps you’re contemplating one of those right now.”

  You bet I am.

  That was what she would like to say. But it suddenly occurred to her that she was supposed to be working for this man. If she wanted to keep the job of coronation chef, maybe she’d better keep her opinions to herself. So she clamped her mouth shut, took a deep breath and looked away, trying hard to calm down.

  The elevator ground to a halt and the doors slid open laboriously. She moved to step forward, hoping to make her escape, but his hand shot out again and caught her elbow.

  “Wait a minute. You’re a woman,” he said, as though that thought had just presented itself to him.

  “That’s a rare ability for insight you have there, Your Highness,” she snapped before she could stop herself. And then she winced. She was going to have to do better than that if she was going to keep this relationship on an even keel.

  But he was ignoring her dig. Nodding, he stared at her with a speculative gleam in his golden eyes. “I’ve been looking for a woman, but you’ll do.”

  She blanched, stiffening. “I’ll do for what?”

  He made a head gesture in a direction she knew was opposite of where she was going and his grip tightened on her elbow.

  “Come with me,” he said abruptly, making it an order.

  She dug in her heels, thinking fast. She didn’t much like orders. “Wait! I can’t. I have to get to the kitchen.”

  “Not yet. I need you.”

  “You what?” Her breathless gasp of surprise was soft, but she knew he’d heard it.

  “I need you,” he said firmly. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’m not planning to throw you into the hay and have my way with you. I need you for something a bit more mundane than that.”

  She felt color rushing into her cheeks and she silently begged it to stop. Here she was, formless and stodgy in her chef’s whites. No makeup, no stiletto heels. Hardly the picture of the femmes fatales he was undoubtedly used to. The likelihood that he would have any carnal interest in her was remote at best. To have him think she was hysterically defending her virtue was humiliating.

  “Well, what if I don’t want to go with you?” she said in hopes of deflecting his attention from her blush.

  “Too bad.”

  “What?”

  Amusement sparkled in his eyes. He was certainly enjoying this. And that only made her more determined to resi
st him.

  “I’m the prince, remember? And we’re in the castle. My orders take precedence. It’s that old pesky divine rights thing.”

  Her jaw jutted out. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t let that pass.

  “Over my free will? Never!”

  Exasperation filled his face.

  “Hey, call out the historians. Someone will write a book about you and your courageous principles.” His eyes glittered sardonically. “But in the meantime, Emma Valentine, you’re coming with me.”

  ISBN: 1-55254-539-3

  IF YOU COULD READ MY MIND…

  Copyright © 2006 by Jeanie LeGendre.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.eHarlequin.com

  About the Author

  Jeanie has always loved to read and write. School years were spent sneaking romance novels into school when she should have been learning algebra and biology. College years were spent taking electives such as journalism and creative writing classes when she should have been taking algebra and biology.

  Nowadays, she’s still reading and writing. She writes romances because she believes in happily-ever-afters. Not the “love conquers all” kind, but the “two people love each other, so they can conquer anything” kind. The commitment and monogamy of romance are strong values she’s passing along to her daughters, who’ll search for their own heroes someday. Jeanie’s own romance hero is a very supportive guy, who reads fantasy and watches football and doesn’t mind eating the same meal three nights in a row while she’s writing.