Four

      A midnight raid on the royal kitchen.

      That was Marc DeLoria’s idea of adventure—and Kate’s biggest disappointment of the evening. She’d been hoping for a midnight swim in the moat, although, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a moat. At the very least, she’d been hoping for a walk in the palace gardens. She had seen those when she’d first arrived—beautifully manicured gardens with roses and topiaries and a fountain set in the middle of a reflecting pool.

      But instead of taking a romantic stroll with the king, she was standing in the middle of a cavernous kitchen while Marc rummaged through a lower cabinet looking for heaven only knew what. However, he was bent over at the moment, giving Kate a really nice view of his bottom, sheathed in a thin pair of pajamas that showcased the finer points of his dignified derrière. She wondered if that was where the birthmark might be found. With just a few steps forward, and a quick tug, she could find out.

      Not a good idea.

      She could look all she wanted, but she couldn’t touch. He’d made that quite clear outside her hotel room door. No touching allowed. No kissing. No covert rendezvous on the palace grounds, or any grounds, for that matter. But she could still fantasize about it—about him—and remember the words he had spoken earlier in a voice that had nearly brought her to her knees.

      …it would be incredibly easy to kiss you right now, to back you into your room, remove all your clothing and make love with you all through the night.

      It was definitely getting hot in the castle kitchen. Kate was practically going up in flames and Marc hadn’t even turned on the stove.

      “I’ve found it.” Marc straightened and showed her a sauté pan along with his sexy and oh-so-charming smile.

      Was he planning to make breakfast? Kate’s belly roiled in protest. She didn’t eat heavy meals in the middle of the night. “I’m not really fond of eggs.”

      “Nor am I. But I do have a fondness for crepes.”

      Kate leaned back against the spotless workstation centered in the room. “I know you didn’t learn how to cook in the biology lab.”

      He set the pan on the stove and turned on the burner beneath it before facing her again. “Someone taught me how to make crepes.”

      Kate assumed the “someone” had been a woman. “I’m sure she got a kick out of teaching a king to cook.”

      “Yes, and she taught me many things.”

      Just as Kate had suspected. “Oh, really? Such as?”

      “How to tie my shoes, how to read. Her name was Mrs. Perrine, my first nanny.”

      “Your nanny?”

      “You thought I was referring to some nubile young woman. I assure you Mrs. Perrine was anything but nubile or young. She was as tough as any headmaster, but she did have a way with crepes.”

      “I’m looking forward to sampling yours.”

      He sent her another killer grin. “My crepes?”

      He pinned her in place with his blue eyes and suggestive tone. No touching, a little voice warned her. No nothing, just friendship. “Yes, I’m looking forward to trying your crepes, Your Highness. Or maybe I should say Your Chefness, since Mr. Nicholas isn’t around.”

      “Marc will suffice,” he said as he retreated to the monstrous refrigerator and rummaged around some more, withdrawing two covered bowls and a block of butter. He set the items on the counter next to Kate and opened the bowls. One held strawberries, the other a stack of what looked to be pancakes.

      “Actually,” he said, “the cook has already prepared the crepes, so I will only need to prepare the filling.”

      Kate crossed her arms over her middle. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

      He gave her a visual once-over, pausing slightly when his gaze passed over her breasts. “You need only stand there and look beautiful, since you seem to do that very well.”

      Sheesh. Beautiful? She was bare-faced and bleary-eyed. “You are such a liar, Marc DeLoria.”

      His expression went stern. “I have never lied to you, Kate. I have no reason to lie.”

      Remorse brought heat of a different kind to Kate’s face. Why couldn’t she stop throwing around the “L” word? “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not used to men saying those kinds of things to me.”

      Marc took a cutting board and knife from the counter and began slicing the strawberries, precisely, slowly. “I assure you, Kate, men have said you’re beautiful, even if not to your face. Perhaps you give off signals that indicate you don’t wish that kind of attention.”

      Kate frowned. “Do you really think…I mean…do I?”

      He leveled his eyes on hers. “You do.”

      Kate had never considered that before, but maybe he was right. Maybe she had been too afraid to make herself that accessible for fear that she would be rejected. “Then you’re saying I’m a snob?”

      “No. You’re friendly enough yet you still retain an aloofness, as if you are untouchable. Some men find that very intimidating.”

      She thought of her one medical school fling with Trevor Allen and how he’d often complained that she seemed to save all her emotions for her parents and her patients. “Do you find it intimidating?”

      “No. I find it very appealing.”

      A network of chills slid down Kate’s spine as Marc continued to look at her with eyes that could liquefy the stainless steel appliances. How many women had succumbed to his overt sexuality? Probably plenty. And she shouldn’t want to be among them, but for some stupid reason, she did.

      Glossing over the moment, Kate turned around and propped her elbows on the counter, her palms supporting her jaws. “Are you sure I can’t help you with something? I feel so useless, just standing here looking beautiful.”

      His smile finally reappeared. “Can you melt butter?”