‘James.’
‘I—What are you doing here?’ And then those hot brown eyes raked him from the top of his head to the tips of his trainers and back up again. He felt scorched, a low thrum of heat buzzing through his blood. He couldn’t push a single word past the constriction in his throat. Her sudden smile, bright and sincere, knocked the breath clean from his body.
‘You’re wearing normal clothes!’
The curve of her lips told him the discovery delighted her.
‘I—’ he cleared his throat ‘—was out for a run.’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Here?’
‘No.’ He had to tell her what he’d done. It’d be too underhanded otherwise. Sordid. But if she walked away... He ran a hand over his face. If she walked away it’d serve him right. ‘I followed you.’
She eased away a fraction. ‘You followed me?’
‘I didn’t mean to. At least, not initially. You were coming out of the building as I was coming back from my run. I was heading down to the river.’
She shuffled away another inch. ‘What happened to heading down to the river?’
His stomach clenched. ‘You were acting oddly.’
She remained silent.
‘I could tell something was bothering you. You were acting...well, almost guilty, I guess. It made me suspicious.’
Her gaze dropped.
‘I thought you were slipping off to meet with one of my competitors.’ The admission burst from him. ‘I wouldn’t blame you for being tempted,’ he hastened to add as startled amber eyes collided with his. ‘But I wanted the low-down if that was happening so I could put a new plan into place and—’
‘You wouldn’t blame me?’ Her mouth fell open. ‘Are you serious? I would! It’d be an appalling way to behave. You’re putting me up in Singapore for two whole weeks, James. That has to buy a certain amount of loyalty, surely?’
He’d hoped so, but hard experience had taught him that wasn’t the way the world worked. ‘When you got off here—at the airport—I was worried something had spooked you and that you were going home.’
‘That’s a little closer to the mark.’
Her words brought him no comfort.
‘But I can promise you I wouldn’t leave without telling you first—preferably face to face.’
But those words did. ‘Thank you.’
‘When did you work out I wasn’t meeting anyone?’
‘Probably five minutes after you sat down.’
Her brow crinkled. ‘Then why did you come over? Why didn’t you just leave? Why confess to what you did?’
‘I shouldn’t have followed you in the first place. It was a reprehensible thing to do, and I’m sorry.’ It was an effort to maintain eye contact but he forced himself to do it. ‘It seemed only right to apologise.’
She stared at him for a long moment. Eventually she nodded. ‘Okay, apology accepted. But it can’t happen again.’
‘It won’t,’ he promised.
Her gaze sharpened as if she sensed there was something else on his mind. ‘And?’
He hesitated. ‘Forgive me if this is out of line, but I can’t help thinking that something is troubling you. You’re alone in a foreign country and I’m your host. If there’s anything I can do to help...’
She lifted her hands before letting them drop back to her lap. ‘And see? That, right there, is my problem. I didn’t know that you’d be so...nice.’
He didn’t understand.
‘The reason you think I’ve been acting guilty is because I feel guilty. I’ve been sitting here having a silent argument with myself. And holding an imaginary discussion with you in my head.’
For some reason her confession didn’t scare him. His every instinct told him Christy Minslow had integrity. Somehow he’d find a way to allay her concerns—whatever they were.
He made himself smile. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to have a real-live discussion with the real-live me right now instead?’ he offered, his every instinct shifting into fix-it mode.
Copyright © 2020 by Michelle Douglas
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ISBN-13: 9781488065316
Christmas Encounter with a Prince
Copyright © 2020 by Katrina Cudmore
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Christmas Encounter with a Prince Page 18
