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She cut off the wayward direction of her thoughts—which could only be a carryover from the romantic eighteen-year-old who had wanted to find a connection with Rene, to justify the physical urge they’d both succumbed to that night… And in the early hours of yesterday morning.
She had always been drawn to him whenever he seemed vulnerable. But then, finding excuses for the selfish behaviour of men was a weakness she had always suffered from. After all, hadn’t she succumbed to the same self-destructive naivete with her dad, determined to kid herself that he cared for her, that he loved her, that he wanted to have a relationship with her after the divorce, when he had made it abundantly clear to her in every way that he didn’t?
Rene had done the same damn thing by sleeping with her then ghosting her, and yet she hadstillwanted to believe there was more to their lovemaking than a quick endorphin fix.
What on earth was the matter with her?
When someone tells you who they are, believe them, Mel, remember!
‘I hope I didn’t make a nuisance of myself,’ he murmured, keeping his head down.
‘No more than usual,’ she said, determined to puncture the strange sense of intimacy, and get their relationship back to where it had been before their near-death experience.
After all, snarky had always been a much better defence against Rene’s dark arts than curiosity and compassion.
He let out a weary laugh which didn’t seem to have a lot of humour in it.
‘Touché,’ he murmured.
But as he began shovelling the bacon into his mouth like a starving man, she found herself dwelling again on those tortured cries. And her heart swelled against her ribs, as it had for hours while she had watched him struggle with those demons.
They finished the meal in silence, but when she got off her stool and reached for his empty plate he snagged her wrist again.
‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘I’ll wash up.’
She tugged her wrist free, far too aware that her pulse had started dancing a jig.
‘No, thanks.’ She tilted her head to one side. His colour was a bit better but he still looked washed out. ‘I don’t want you faceplanting in the kitchen this time,’ she added. ‘Because you’re too heavy for me to carry anywhere and too big to step over.’
Her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly as a sensual smile curved his lips. She hadn’t seen that smile for four years—the only time he’d ever bestowed it on her—but she could still remember its devastating effect. How annoying he could still use it like a lethal weapon to disarm all her defences.
‘Fair point,’ he murmured. The mocking light shimmering in the golden brown of his irises only added to his killer charm. ‘I’ve discovered that sleeping for days on the floor is quite literally a pain in the arse.’
She collected the plates and headed to the sink, determined not to be charmed. Nothing had changed between them. He was still a prince, and she was still a PA—and she wasn’t about to make the mistake again of thinking that he viewed her as more than just an easy lay.
Been there, done that and still have the inferiority complex to prove it.
Unfortunately, they were stuck here, alone together, until the storm broke or the phone line was restored. Or a search and rescue team came looking for them. Hopefully, that would be sooner rather than later, but until then she would just have to ensure she kept her wits about her—and didn’t fall into the trap he had always represented.
After all, she’d already slept with him once without intending to—because he had a devastating effect on her libido as well as her common sense, even when they were practically comatose.
Rene had always been indiscriminate when it came to his sexual conquests—and he had a devastating personal charm when he chose to use it. But forewarned was forearmed.
She turned on the tap and began scrubbing the plates with more force than was probably necessary. She heard him get up from the stool and swear softly as he stumbled, but forced herself not to turn around.
‘There’s a guest bedroom on the ground floor you can use. I’ve taken the master upstairs.’ She threw the words over her shoulder, glad her voice remained unmoved.
She needed to make it clear that even though he was a prince they were equals here.
‘I found a stash of toiletries in the laundry room under the sink,’ she added, her nerves forcing her to fill the silence when he didn’t respond.
‘Are you saying I stink?’ he asked.
She turned, then realised her mistake when she got another eyeful of his chest, temptingly displayed in the figure-hugging cotton. She folded her arms across her breasts, suddenly aware of the bra she had left drying in the laundry room when her nipples tightened under his amused gaze.
She gave him a deliberate once-over, then sniffed the air. ‘I’m saying a shower certainly wouldn’t hurt.’
But instead of reacting with indignation or anger as she’d hoped, he let out a gruff chuckle, his gaze still warm with appreciation.