A Royal Vow Of Convenience: The steamy new romance from a multi-million selling author. Sharon Kendrick
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singing carols in the old traditional way?’
His face hardened and Sophie saw something in the depths of his eyes which looked almost like pain. She blinked. Surely not. She couldn’t imagine a powerful man like this ever hurting.
‘That kind of Christmas only exists in fairy tales,’ he said and suddenly his voice grew harsh with cynicism. ‘And I never did believe in fairy tales.’
Abruptly he stood up and moved away from the window and suddenly he was close enough for Sophie to touch. Close enough for her to notice that his jaw was dark with the hint of new growth, even though he could barely have been out of bed for more than a few hours. As a symbol of virility, he couldn’t have sent out a more potent message and another rush of unfamiliar desire pulsed through her.
‘Why look,’ he observed, his steely eyes glittering before they were shaded by his ebony lashes as he glanced down at her fingers. ‘Your hands are trembling. What’s the matter, Sophie? Is something bothering you?’
She suspected he knew exactly what was bothering her but she concealed her embarrassment behind a shake of her head.
‘Actually, there is,’ she said. ‘I get nervous if someone stands around watching while I work—especially if that someone happens to be the boss. I’m about to start making the men their mid-morning smoko and you know how hungry they get.’ She gave a quick smile, hoping it hid the way she was feeling. Hoping he wouldn’t notice the fact that her nipples were pushing like little hard stones against her T-shirt or that her cheeks were getting hotter by the second. ‘So if you’ll excuse me?’
‘I get the distinct feeling I’m being dismissed,’ he said silkily. ‘Which is something of a first. Still, since dedication to work is a quality I’ve always admired, you won’t find me objecting.’
But before he reached the door he paused, and suddenly he was no longer the mildly curious boss asking idle questions about her background or pointing out that her fingers were trembling. Suddenly he was the billionaire station owner with the shiny helicopter, who was regarding her with a certain sense of entitlement.
‘I have no objection to sharing the homestead with you, just as long as you realise that I like my own company. So please don’t feel you have to seek me out or engage me in conversation, especially if I’m working. If it happens to be a beautiful day, we’ll take that as a given, shall we?’ His voice hardened. ‘I certainly don’t need to hear your views on the sunshine levels or having you brightly enquire how I’m planning to spend my day. Understand?’
Sophie met his piercing grey gaze, thinking that was possibly the rudest thing anyone had ever said to her. Engage him in conversation? Why, she’d rather talk to one of the large bugs which regularly scuttled across the veranda each morning! But her face betrayed nothing as she nodded, even if her voice was stiff. ‘Of course.’
She was glad when the door swung shut behind him. He was the most arrogant man she’d ever met—even more arrogant than her brother—but he was also the most attractive. By a mile. Briefly she closed her eyes as she reminded herself of the effect he’d had on her. She’d been stumbling and uptight in his company and that wasn’t her. Just as trembling fingers and aching breasts weren’t her either. She’d let him get to her just because he looked like some fallen Greek god who’d been given more than his fair share of sex appeal and she mustn’t allow that to happen again. He was her boss—nothing more. A man who was just passing through.
But despite her best intentions, something made her go to the window as he crossed the yard and something kept her there, watching him.
The morning sun was touching his ebony hair with splashes of dark red and she could see the powerful thrust of his thighs as he walked. A pulse started beating deep in her groin and Sophie felt a yearning so powerful that she had to grip onto the window sill for support.
It was just unfortunate that Rafe Carter chose that very moment to turn around and catch her staring.
And she couldn’t mistake the lazy arrogance of his smile.
IT WAS TORTURE having your boss hanging around for longer than he was supposed to. Sophie gave the bowl of cake mix a vicious stir as he began to walk across the yard towards her. Sheer torture. Why was he still here four days after telling her he was just ‘passing through’? Wasn’t he supposed to be some important international CEO with loads of calls on his time? Not someone who helped his men repair fences and muster cattle before standing in the evening sunlight with a bottle of cold beer held to his lips. Sophie swallowed. And why the hell did he have to walk around the place looking like...that?
Her heart pounded as she watched him approach the homestead, the expensive grey suit he’d worn on his arrival now just a memory. He was wearing faded denim jeans, which might as well have been sprayed onto his muscular legs, and a clinging black T-shirt, which emphasised his washboard abs and the powerful lines of his arms and shoulders.
It was getting uncomfortable. Embarrassing, even. Every time he came into her eye-line, a load of unsettling things started to happen to her body. Things which centred around her aching breasts and a newly sensitive spot between her thighs. Things which had never happened to her before. She’d tried telling herself that it was because she was in this very elemental place instead of the rarefied atmosphere of her palatial home which was making her so aware of her own physicality. She’d tried keeping out of his way as much as possible—scuttling out of sight whenever she spotted him in the distance—but nothing seemed to help. Whatever qualities Rafe Carter had, he had them in abundance and she just couldn’t stop thinking about him...
He pushed open the door and walked into the air-conditioned cool of the kitchen. His black hair was curling in damp tendrils around his hard-boned face and a single line of sweat arrowed down the front of his T-shirt before disappearing beneath the soft leather of his belt. She put down the bowl of cake mix as she forced her gaze upwards to his face, but that wasn’t much better. Why couldn’t she just look at those sensual lips without wondering what it would be like to be kissed by them?
‘Anything I can do for you, Rafe?’
‘You mean, apart from looking as though you’d rather I was anywhere else but here?’
‘I told you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I get uncomfortable if people watch me while I’m working.’
‘So you did,’ he said softly. ‘Well, you won’t have to endure my company for much longer because I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ Sophie tried to keep her stupid wash of disappointment at bay. ‘You are?’
‘I am. So I’ll be out of your hair once and for all.’ He paused. ‘I thought you could cook the men a special meal tonight. An early Christmas celebration, if you like. A kind of thank you from me to them for all their hard work over the year. We could open some decent wine—and afterwards go into Corksville for a drink.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Think you could manage that, Sophie?’
When he looked at her that way she felt incapable of managing anything except dissolving in a puddle, but somehow Sophie produced an efficient nod of her head. ‘Of course!’
She spent the rest of the day rushing around, consulting online recipes as she attempted to make a traditional Christmas dinner for the men, but her thoughts were mostly occupied with what to wear. Because even though she was only there to cook and serve, her cheap dresses and shapeless shorts didn’t seem appropriate for a celebration dinner and besides—wasn’t there a stupid part of her which wanted to dress up? Who wanted Rafe Carter to see her as a real woman for a change, rather than just the fading-into-the-background person she had tried her best to be?
She looked longingly at the one dress which was hanging in her wardrobe and the only outfit she’d brought with her from Isolaverde. It was made to measure by her favourite designer and deceptively simple; she loved the soft blue cotton material, which