Rachel blinked at the text message, not sure that she was awake enough to understand. “What does he mean? Paris?”
Leaning back against the pillows, she took several deep breaths and re-read the message. “Paris? He wants to fly off to Paris?” For a long moment, she tried to remember the list of cities that he’d mentioned yesterday. She’d spoken to the travel office and…thinking hard…nope, Paris had not been on that list.
The loud knock on her door startled her and she looked around, wondering who would be knocking so early in the morning.
“Just a minute!” she called out. “Probably the property manager again,” she grumbled, grabbing her favorite silk robe. Her hair probably looked like a tumbleweed and her face was clean of makeup. She wore only the small cami and her panties that she’d slept in, but the silk robe covered enough of her sleep attire that she felt comfortable opening the door.
Tying the belt of her robe around her waist, she padded over to the entrance, paused to take a deep breath, then pulled it open. “Good morn….”
Rachel stopped and stared as she found Prince Tarin standing in her doorway. Was he rumpled and sleepy like her? Nope, of course not! He stood there looking fresh, alive, and magnetic in a dark suit and blue tie, freshly shaven and smelling like something clean and spicy.
“Your Highness!” she gasped, grabbing the collar of her robe and holding it tightly closed.
He pressed the door wider and stepped into the room, forcing Rachel to step back to make space for him.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, tucking her hair back behind her ear in the hopes that it wasn’t as messy as she suspected.
“Is that how you normally answer the door?” he demanded, eyeing her silk robe pointedly.
Rachel glanced down and hissed when she realized her nipples were pressing against the silk. She crossed her arms protectively and frowned up at Tarin. “No. Usually, the people who knock on my door don’t do it this early in the morning. So normally I’m showered and dressed in appropriate clothes.”
Instead of apologizing, he grunted. As if that meant something to her? She had no clue what a grunt meant. She didn’t speak caveman. So she rolled her eyes and demanded, “Is there a reason why you are at my door this early?”
He smiled. “Not a morning person, are you?”
She pressed her lips together, not sure what to say. “I am normally at the office very early each day. If you ever have an issue with my…?”
“No! My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply any such thing,” he countered and moved closer.
Just a step, but it was a significant step because now she could smell his aftershave and her heart pounded violently against her ribs. Darn it, she needed to put some space between them, but she’d backed herself into a corner with the sofa behind her.
“So…why are you here, Your Highness?”
He frowned. “Didn’t we just have a conversation yesterday about you calling me Tarin?”
She shrugged, fighting to control her trembling. “Yes, I believe we did have that conversation.”
“And?”
Rachel refused to be intimidated. If she was going to work with him over the next several months, she needed to show him that she wouldn’t be intimidated. “And I disagreed,” she told him tartly, pretending as if she weren’t standing in front of him in only a silk robe and not much else.
His lips curled up slightly but he didn’t argue her point. “Ah, Rachel, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
That was such a startling claim, she blinked, taken aback. “We are?”
He nodded and she vaguely wondered how he got such a close shave. By late afternoon, he looked all sexy and scruffy. But right now, he looked…gorgeous!
“We are. And today, we’re flying to Paris. How soon can you be ready to go?”
“Paris?” she echoed, not sure she’d heard him correctly.
“Yes. Paris.”
Rachel looked around, her arms dropping unconsciously. “I can’t go to Paris!”
“Why not?”
“Because…,” she huffed, trying to force her brain to start working. But she hadn’t had coffee yet. She really needed coffee! Rachel fully admitted that she probably drank more coffee than was good for her, but she didn’t care. Working in a high pressure environment such as with Princess Talia and, now, with Prince Tarin, coffee was her friend! So she relied on vague emphatic replies. “I can’t just fly off to Paris!” she said.
“Do you have a cat?”
A cat? “No.” What an odd question.
“A dog?” He pressed.
Irritated now, Rachel shook her head. “No!”
“A passport?”
“No!” She shook her head, then she realized what he’d asked and closed her eyes with irritation. “I mean…yes! But…!”
“A boyfriend?” He had the audacity to peer into the bedroom.
Automatically, she stepped in front of the door, afraid he might see the rumpled sheets and think…well, she had no idea what he might think. Coffee! She really needed coffee! “No!”
His hands clapped together, then he rubbed them together. “Excellent. Then jump in the shower and pack a bag. I’ll make coffee while you shower.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Your Highness, do you even know how to make coffee?”
He laughed and shrugged one of those deliciously massive shoulders. “I never have before, but how hard can it be?”
Oh, the joyful mysteries of the coffee maker! This should be fun! “Okay, sounds good. I’ll get ready and pack. You make coffee and I’ll be ready in about twenty minutes, if that’s okay with your schedule?”
He looked towards her bedroom again, almost as if he were trying to figure out how to cut that twenty minutes down into ten. “Fine. Twenty minutes.” Then he turned to face the kitchen.
Rachel stared at his back for a long moment and shook her head as she padded towards the bedroom. “I wish I had a camera for this,” and she disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door, then hurrying to the shower.
Tarin eyed the kitchen countertops, not sure which machine was the coffee maker. Sure he had coffee every morning, but his coffee appeared on the table or was rolled into his apartment on a tray, already made. Usually even poured for him since the palace staff knew exactly how he preferred his coffee.
He heard the shower start and groaned, his attention straying from his coffee-making task. She was naked, he thought. Naked and wet and running her soft, delicate hands all over her body!
Tarin leaned against the edge of the counter, willing himself to focus on his task…which was what? Walking into the shower so that he could join her? Watch her hands slide over her dewy skin? Nibble her taut, wet nipples as…!
“This was a bad plan,” he sighed. Shaking himself, he returned his attention to the coffee maker dilemma. There were several appliances lined up neatly along the counter, pressed back against the wall. But which was the coffee maker?
The one with the coffee-pot-looking-thing underneath! Triumphantly, he pulled it out and stared at it. “Okay, you’ve identified the machine, now what?”
Coffee! Yep, a coffee maker needed coffee, right? Or did it have the coffee already in it?
Opening and closing the various parts of the coffee maker, he discovered there was no coffee in it. It also occurred to him that he wasn’t exactly sure what coffee looked like before it was brewed. He knew that coffee was essentially boiled beans but…where were the beans? Where did the beans go in the coffee maker?
He searched through the cabinets and spotted the bag labeled “coffee grounds”, which he opened. That smelled good, he thought with a nod. He even spotted a coffee maker manual and grinned. Flipping through the pages, he rolled his eyes at the warnings, finally coming to the page with the instructions.
“Filter? Why the hell does the coffee maker need a filter?”
A small chuckle behind him warned Tarin that he was no longer alone.
Turning, he spotted her over his shoulder and swallowed a groan. She wore another one of those flowery dresses, this one had a round neck and the extra visible skin drew his eyes. She had the palest, most delicate skin he’d ever seen! Plus, it was dewy from her recent shower. Her hair was twisted up into a towel and she wore no makeup. Tarin had seen his past mistresses done up with their hair like that, but none had looked as sexy as Rachel. He had no idea why, but seeing her like this, with her long neck exposed, his body reacted…predictably.
“Need some help?” she asked innocently, laughter dancing in her eyes.
Pulling his gaze away from her, he stared blankly at the coffee machine manual, unable to read the words, but it was better than staring at her. And wondering what kind of underwear she was wearing under that hideous dress. He shook his head, trying to clear away the thought. “No. Go away. I’ll have the coffee ready in a minute.”
She shifted, tying something behind her. Involuntarily, he turned to watch. This dress was navy blue with big, white tulips all over it. It wrapped around her, cinching tightly around her tiny waist, and showcasing how round and lush her hips were. She didn’t have large breasts, but what she had were perfect. Not too small, not too big. Just perfect. For a long moment, he stared, his mouth watering as he pictured those breasts bare and heaving. Pictured himself touching those breasts and taking them into his…!
“Your Highness?” she asked.
Brutally, he ripped his gaze from her breasts and looked into those amazing green eyes of hers. She wasn’t wearing her glasses at the moment, so he could see her eyes clearly. They looked confused and thankfully, not offended by his lack of discipline.
“Right. Go away. I’m making coffee and it’s going to be good.” He looked down at the manual again, trying to read the words but all he could see were her breasts.
“If you let me, I can have the coffee brewing in just a….”
“I’m on it,” he said firmly, not bothering to look up.
“Fine,” she replied and he heard the soft chuckle. He also thought he heard something along the lines of, “I can get it at the corner store faster than this.” She disappeared back into the bathroom before he could demand that she repeat her comment.
Staring blankly at the instruction manual, he sighed with irritation. A moment later, he tossed the manual back into the cabinet and stormed to the front door. His guards stood in the hallway, alert and tense. “Do either of you know how to make coffee?” he asked.
Both of them blinked at him, confused. “Your Highness?” one of them asked, needing clarification.
“Coffee,” he repeated. “I told Rachel I’d make coffee for her, but I can’t figure out the coffee machine. Either of you know how?”
They shared a bemused glance before one stepped forward slightly. “Come on. I have to hurry before she finishes.”
He heard the hair dryer turn on as the guard followed him into the apartment. He walked over to the coffee machine, eyed the machine, and nodded. “This has a reusable filter, Your Highness. You just add coffee grounds in here, and water in here, then press this button.”
The man efficiently scooped several spoonfuls of coffee grounds into the machine, filled up the carafe with water, then poured it carefully into the reservoir, slid the carafe into the machine and pressed the button. “That’s it, Your Highness.”
He nodded, absorbing the knowledge for the future. “Excellent. Thank you.”
“Anytime, Your Highness,” the guard said, and returned to his post outside. Tarin spotted the man’s smile at his inabilities, but, thankfully, the man didn’t say anything. He simply pulled the apartment door closed, leaving Tarin to search for mugs.
He was sitting down on the sofa with a cup of perfectly brewed coffee, flipping through a magazine when she emerged. He almost laughed at her skeptical expression.
Silently, he took a sip of the coffee.
“How did you…?” she asked, then stopped, looking over at the coffee maker. There was another cup set beside the coffee, so she carefully poured a cup. Taking a sip, she sighed happily and nodded her head. “Okay, you did it.” She took another sip, eyeing him over the rim of the cup. “How did you do it?”
“Are you questioning my masculinity by assuming I can’t figure out how to make coffee?”
She smiled at him. “Well, I’m challenging your ability to make coffee,” she replied.
“And yet, you’re drinking said coffee.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Did you watch a video online or something?”
He shrugged, not bothering to answer, secretly irritated that he hadn’t thought of that himself. “Are you packed? My pilot is standing by.”
A slow grin curled her lips. “I’ll figure out how you did it, Your Highness,” she warned.
He moved closer. “I’ll tell you if you promise to use my first name.”
Rachel felt the spark of challenge, among all of the other sparks that were fizzling in the air between them. “Eh,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t want to know that badly.”
With that, she opened a cabinet and grabbed her travel mug. She poured the coffee from her mug into the travel one, then filled it up to the top. “You didn’t tell me why we’re going to Paris. I thought we were working on identifying architectural firms that are capable of handling your university project?”
“We are, but I always visit Paris before starting a project like this,” he told her. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. I suppose. Although, I don’t understand your agenda, so I don’t know if I packed appropriately.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he said and stepped into her bedroom. “If you need anything, we can get it there.” And with that, he grabbed her suitcase off of her bed and carried it to the door. “Let’s go.”
She followed him down the hallway, carrying her tote bag and computer while he carried her suitcase. Rachel could have handled it herself. But since he wanted to carry it, she saw no reason not to let him. And besides, she liked watching him do it. The task seemed to make him more human somehow. Just like making the coffee, which she was still skeptical about, he was more approachable now. Still overwhelming, but human too.