Thanking him, Rosanna stepped through, then stopped, eyes widening as the door clicked closed behind her.
She’d expected an office. Instead it was a lounge room. Large by normal standards, it felt pleasingly intimate with a grouping of comfortable-looking sofas, glowing lamps, a scatter of papers across a side table and plates of food on a low table at the centre of the sofas.
But what made her chest contract was Salim. He wore black, tailored trousers and a formal shirt undone just enough to reveal a tantalising V of dark golden flesh. A silk bow tie dangled loose at the collar and his dark hair was rumpled as if he’d run his hands through it.
Or as if some woman had.
Rosanna’s gaze skimmed the room but there was no one else here. A door on the other side of the room caught her attention. Did it lead to a bedroom? Had his lover slipped through there?
Why that mattered, she refused to consider.
He looked up and she saw he was chewing. Golden lamplight highlighted the movement of his strong throat and Rosanna felt a strange trembling inside.
She’d had two days to push her unresolved feelings for this man into a locked box. She’d done it well enough during the day. It was only her dreams she hadn’t been able to control. But now, entering what looked like his personal domain late in the evening, discovering that he looked every bit as delectable as he had that night six months ago, jarred her confidence.
‘Your Majesty.’
The words sounded strident, too abrupt, and Rosanna hid a wince as she sank into a curtsey.
‘Please, Ms MacIain—’ he rose and gestured for her to take the sofa side-on to his ‘—have a seat.’ He smiled and her body responded as a galloping heat raced through her. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me snacking as we talk. I missed my evening meal when a crisis cropped up.’
Rosanna sank onto the lounge. Shame rose at her earlier suspicion that he’d avoided her because he hadn’t relished their earlier discussion, addressing personal issues. And at her imagining him busy with a lover.
Now she looked beyond his flagrant sex appeal and she noticed lines of weariness around his mouth and a hint of shadows beneath his eyes.
‘It must be tough, taking on responsibility for a whole country,’ she blurted, then snapped her mouth closed, horrified at how her thoughts had slipped out.
Salim’s eyes widened and he paused with a piece of flatbread in his hand. Belatedly she wondered if anyone was ever so frank with him. She was sure the answer wasno.
Then his shoulders lifted in the tiniest of shrugs. ‘It has its moments. This has been a particularly demanding week.’
‘I’m sorry... I—’
‘Don’t apologise. It’s refreshing to have someone say what’s on their mind. Most people are cautious expressing themselves around royalty.’
Rosanna winced. Usually she was more circumspect. What was it about this man that made her respond without thinking? She was struggling to convince him she could do this job. She didn’t need to plant more seeds of doubt in his head. ‘Nevertheless, Your Majesty, it’s none of my business and—’
‘Please. It’s late and it’s been a long day. Shall we dispense with the formality, Rosanna?’ He paused. ‘If you don’t mind me calling you Rosanna?’
Mind?How could she mind when the sound of her name in that dark, velvety voice sent a wash of eagerness through her? When the way he spoke her name made her sound like a glamorous, seductive stranger, not the ordinary woman she was. She felt her skin tighten and something deep within her clench.
Sheshouldmind. She should do everything she could to keep distance between them. Not that she feared him, more that she didn’t trust her reactions to him.
‘If you prefer, Your Majesty.’
She looked down at the laptop on the cushion beside her and pulled it close, determined to focus on business.
‘Idoprefer.’ Rosanna felt his gaze touch her face but didn’t look up, pretending to be busy with her computer. ‘When we’re alone, you needn’t bother to curtsey and I prefer that you call me Salim.’
That jerked her head up. She met eyes the colour of a midnight sky. Rosanna had the disturbing sensation that if she looked long enough she’d fall into those inky depths and not want to come back to reality.
‘Your Majesty seems far too formal after what we shared.’
And there it was, out in the open.
Everything she had tried to forget.
Or if not forget, then at least pretend hadn’t happened.