The Princess and the Player. Kat Cantrell
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hadn’t been crowned yet? Whatever the form of address, she was way out of his league.
But that didn’t mean she thought so. She hadn’t bothered to hide the frank attraction in her gaze when she’d been in his arms earlier. If there was anything he knew, it was women, and she might be royalty but that didn’t necessarily make her off-limits.
He quickly scrambled to his feet in case there was some protocol for standing when princesses stood...even if she was wearing a postage stamp–sized white bikini that somehow covered everything while leaving nothing to the imagination.
No point in beating around the bush. “Am I permitted to call you Bella or is there some other title you’d prefer?”
“What, like Princess?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not really used to all that yet. And besides, I think we’re a little past that stage, don’t you?”
The feel of her soft curves flush against his body flooded his mind and his board shorts probably wouldn’t conceal his excitement much longer if he didn’t cool his jets. “Yeah. Formality isn’t my specialty anyway. Bella it is.”
Strangely, calling her Bella ratcheted up the intimacy quotient by a thousand. He liked it. And he wanted to say it a bunch more times while she lay stretched out under him again. Without the bikini.
She smiled and glanced down, as if the heat roiling between them was affecting her, too, and she didn’t know quite what to do with it. “This is all so awkward. I wasn’t sure you knew who I was.”
Shrugging, he stuck his hands behind his back because he had no clue what to do with them. It was the first time he’d been unsure around a woman since the age of fourteen. “I recognized you from your pictures.”
She nodded and waved off her friend who’d most likely come to investigate the disappearance of her Frisbee partner. “Me, too. I wasn’t expecting to run into you on the beach or I would have dressed for the occasion.”
Ah, so she did know who he was—and dare he hope there was a hint of approval there? She’d gotten rid of the friend, a clear sign she planned to stick around for a while at least. Maybe he wasn’t so far out of her league after all. “I’m a fan of your wardrobe choice.”
Laughing, she glanced down. “I guess it is appropriate for the beach, isn’t it? It’s just not how I thought meeting you would go. The picture my father sent painted you as someone very serious.”
“Um...you don’t say?” He’d just completely lost the thread of the conversation. Why would her father be sending her pictures, unless... Of course. Had to make sure the precious princess didn’t taint herself with the common riffraff. Stay away from that Rowling boy. He’s a boatload of trouble.
His temper kicked up, but he smoothed it over with a wink and a wicked smile. “I’m every bit as bad as your father warned you. Probably worse. If your goal is to seriously irritate him, I’m on board with that.”
He had no problem being her Rebel Against Daddy go-to guy, though he’d probably encourage her to be really bad and enjoy it far too much. Instantly, a few choice scenarios that would get them both into a lot of trouble filled his mind.
Her eyes widened. “He, uh, didn’t warn me about you... Actually, I’m pretty sure he’d be happy if we went out. Isn’t that the whole point of this? So we can see if we’re suited?”
This conversation was going in circles. Her father wanted them to date? “He’s a football fan, then?”
She shook her head, confusion clouding her gaze. “I don’t think so. Does that matter to you, Will?”
“Will?” He groaned. This was so much worse than he’d anticipated. “You think I’m Will?”
More importantly, her father had sent her a picture of Will for some yet-to-be-determined reason, but it wasn’t so she could flirt with Will’s twin brother on the beach. And this little case of mistaken identity was about to come to an abrupt halt.
Bella laced her fingers together as she got the impression all at once that she wasn’t talking to the man she thought she was. “Aren’t you Will Rowling?”
He had to be. She’d studied his picture enough on the plane and then again last night while she tried to go to sleep but couldn’t, because she’d been wondering what in the world her father was thinking with this arranged marriage nonsense. And then she’d come to the beach with the daughter of one of the servants who was close to her age, only to trip over said man her father had selected.
Except he was staring at her strangely and the niggle of doubt wormed its way to the surface again. How could she have made such a mistake?
“Not Will. Not even close,” he confirmed.
He grinned, and she let herself revel in his gorgeous aqua-colored eyes for a moment because she didn’t have to fight an attraction to him if he wasn’t the man her father picked out for her.
The sun shone a little brighter and the sea sparkled a bit bluer. Digging her toes into the warm sand that suddenly felt heavenly against her bare feet, she breathed a sigh of relief and grinned back.
This was turning out better than she’d hoped. Geez, she’d been one heartbeat away from believing in love at first sight and trying for all she was worth to shut it down. Because she’d thought he was Will Rowling. Imagine that. Her father would be insufferable about it and demand they get married right away if she’d become smitten so fast. It would have been a disaster.
But if this extremely sexy man wasn’t Will—perfect. She slid her gaze down his well-cut body, which a T-shirt and long shorts couldn’t hide. Of course she’d felt every single one of his valleys and hard peaks. Intimately.
No. This was not perfect. She was supposed to be meeting Will and seeing if they got along, not flirting with some look-alike stranger who made her itch to accept the wicked invitation in his gaze, which promised if he got her naked, he’d rock her world.
With no small amount of regret, she reeled back her less-than-innocent interest.
“Well, sorry about that, then,” she said and held out her hand. Might as well start over since this whole thing had blown up in her face. “Bella Montoro. I guess you already knew that, but I’m at a disadvantage.”
His rich laugh hit her a moment before he clasped her hand in his and the combination heated her more than the bright sun or her embarrassment. “I’m the one at a disadvantage, if you were hoping I was Will. I’m James. The other Rowling. Will is my brother.”
“Brother? Oh,” she drawled as it hit her. “You and Will are twins.”
“Guilty.” His eyes twinkled, sucking her under his spell for a moment.
“Then I’m doubly sorry.” Mortified, she racked her brain, but if her father had told her Will had a twin brother, she surely would have remembered that. “I’ve made a complete mess out of this, haven’t I?”
“Not at all. People confuse us all the time. It’s fine, really.”
It was not fine. It was so the opposite of fine, she couldn’t even wrap her head around how not fine it was. Because she’d just realized this sensually intriguing man she’d accidentally tripped over was the brother of the intended target of her father’s archaic arranged marriage plan.
If that didn’t complicate her life a million times over, she didn’t know what would.
Her hand was still gripped tight in his and he didn’t seem in any hurry to let her go. But he should. She pulled free and crossed her arms, wishing for a cover-up. Why did that glint in James’s eye cause her to feel so exposed all at once?
“I’m curious,” James