‘No.’ Rosanna scrambled for something to distract him. ‘I just wondered how you knew about my psychology qualification.’
‘You don’t think I’d hire you without due diligence?’ Reading her expression, he went on. ‘No, I didn’t have you investigated. Just the usual check of references. I don’t do business with someone without ensuring they’re able to deliver.’
Was that a reference to her lack of preparation when she came to Dhalkur? Or a simple statement of fact?
Either way it was a timely reminder that she was here to work, not fantasise about a relationship that could never be.
‘Of course.’ Rosanna stepped back. ‘I’d better leave you before people think I’m monopolising you.’
Rosanna MacIain mightn’t be monopolising his company but she’d taken over his thoughts. He spent the rest of the evening watching her from the corner of his eye. Even as he spoke to the women invited here for him to meet.
She’d chosen well. They all had qualities to recommend them and were all bright, self-possessed and attractive.
They were all blonde too, and at least topped his shoulder. Rosanna had taken those comments to heart.
He thought of her devoting her time to finding the perfect woman to meet his needs and the idea sent a forbidden thrill through him.
Since she’d come into his life he had needs that it seemed only she could satisfy.
He’d told himself his celibacy since taking the crown was to blame. But that was only part of the problem. The main part was Rosanna MacIain. Serious and conscientious. Intelligent and obstinate. Tenacious and effortlessly sexy. She even made a trouser suit look enticing. As for those soft lips and her give-everything brand of passion...
No wonder he craved her, waking nightly in a hot sweat, body throbbing with unassuaged need.
Dragging his mind back to the conversation around him, he congratulated one of Rosanna’s candidates on her grasp of his language. She was a French diplomat who spoke five languages, had a throaty, attractive laugh and a love of the outdoors. She was also chic, sexy and engaging.
Theoretically they were an excellent match.
Yet, even as he leaned closer, telling her about four-wheel driving in the desert, his attention strayed to a dark head and a sensuous body in smoky green on the other side of the room.
Anger coiled in his gut.
Anger at Rosanna and at his wayward inclinations.
This wouldn’t do.
He didn’t have the time or inclination to drag out his search for a wife. The sooner it was sorted the better. But Rosanna MacIain was proving as much a hindrance as a help, distracting him at every turn.
She was surprisingly good at her job. Surprising because at heart he’d never quite believed a matchmaker could find a woman he’d consider marrying. She’d proved him wrong, producing several candidates who might fit the bill.
If only he could concentrate on them and not her.
Either she had to go or he had to find a way to neutralise her hold over his libido.
CHAPTER SIX
‘YOURMAJESTY.’
Rosanna kept her voice even despite rising frustration. Despite his delay acknowledging her amongst the throng waiting to speak to him at the museum opening. He only deigned to recognise her because she refused to move away.
His congenial smile solidified as the other guests melted away.
He inclined his head briefly, his tone as cool as hers. ‘Ms MacIain.’
What had happened to the man who, at last week’s royal reception, had called her beautiful and seductive? Whose dark gaze had made her feel more feminine and alluring, morealivethan she’d ever felt in her life. He’d even come to her aid when the Minister for Finance had grilled her.
But Salim had only intervened because he didn’t want the secret of her work getting out. It had been nothing to do with Rosanna herself.
Strange how his indifference hurt. She felt it as a crushing weight in her chest and a ridiculous prickling behind her eyes. That made her angrier still.