The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит

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be there in twenty minutes?”

      “Yes. Thank you.”

      When she got there, she waited outside the door to Rafe’s office and forced herself to stand still. She’d pulled on the first clothes to hand, jeans and a white blouse, and come straight here. She was at least five minutes early, undoubtedly a mistake because now she was loitering in the corridor where any of the staff or family, if they were up, could see her and wonder what she was doing, why she was waiting for Rafe. Had gossip already spread through the castle? As far as she knew no one had seen them, but…

      She clutched this morning’s San Philippe paper and yesterday’s American paper in her hands. Both had been delivered early to her room, as they had been every day she’d been here. The first had caused her to spill her coffee, the second to forget her coffee altogether. She’d only looked at each once before quickly closing them. And she hadn’t yet dared check the Internet.

      Her first panicked impulse had been to call Rafe. Not only because her predicament involved him, but because he’d know what to do. He’d dealt with scandals before, and for the first time she could see some benefit in that.

      And like her, he didn’t want his brother to be hurt.

      She was on the verge of walking away, planning to come back shortly, when Rafe strode down the corridor. His hair was damp, and his white linen shirt revealed a vee of tanned skin. He wore black jeans and he looked masculine and earthy. The sort of man her mother had warned her about. She should have listened. But more important, she told herself, he looked calm and capable. Some of her anxiety eased. She’d made the right decision. He’d know what to do, how she should handle this.

      “Lex,” he said by way of a greeting. She wasn’t sure whether she imagined the same longing in his voice that she was unable to quell. For all the lectures she’d given herself, she still thought about him, dreamed about him.

      His gaze traveled leisurely over her, and she had to hide the physical reaction, the leap of her pulse, that his presence inevitably caused. His eyes seemed to linger on her hair, which because of her distraction still lay loose around her shoulders. A frown creased Rafe’s brow and he swallowed. Clearly she should have taken the time to put it up. She remembered too well how much he loved her hair, how he had run his fingers through it, arranged it over her shoulders, her chest.

      “I’m sorry about this,” she said, clutching the papers tighter. “I didn’t want to bother you. I just didn’t know who else to ask for advice. And you did give me your phone number and say to call. This isn’t about a fork or anything, but it concerns you, too.”

      He turned from her and tapped a code into the keypad by the door. After pushing it open he stood aside for her to enter. “You can call me anytime, Lex. You don’t need to apologize.”

      She stepped past him. She’d seen his office once before, a glance as she’d passed by, but she hadn’t had a good look at it, partly because her attention had been caught by the man who’d occupied it.

      She looked now. It was a beautiful room, dominated by a massive, intricately carved desk, its surface clear of anything. The paperwork that had covered it the time she’d seen him in here working was nowhere in sight.

      The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling book-filled shelves. Plush carpet cushioned her footsteps as she crossed to the window she knew to be bulletproof. A view over the palace grounds and beyond to the rolling farmland and forest greeted her. And in the distance, golden sunlight bathed mountaintops still capped with snow.

      “How bad is this situation?” he asked. “Do I need to close the door?”

      Lexie turned at the reluctance in his voice. He still stood by the door, watching her. She hesitated. “No. I don’t think so.” A closed door would be bad. That would suggest she—they—had something to hide. And it could also too easily lead to temptation.

      “Sit down—” he gestured to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk “—and tell me what’s wrong.”

      As he spoke he crossed to his desk and sat behind it. He looked remote and strained, not the friend she’d thought she had in him. But remote was good. Remote worked for her. She could have friendship with Adam and Rebecca. For now all she needed was to let Rafe know what had happened and get his opinion and his advice.

      She’d be gone from here soon. He, on the other hand, would have to stay and deal with the fallout. Lexie put the newspapers on the desk. He smoothed out the creases her clutching had caused. And she remembered those hands on her body. To distract herself, she turned over the first page of the San Philippe Times. Rafe raised his eyes to hers briefly before scanning the page before him.

      It was covered almost entirely in the story of her supposed engagement to Adam. There was one picture of her unadorned left hand and some speculation as to the possible reason for the delay in the appearance of a ring.

      “This was expected,” he said. “There’ll be more when the news that you’re going home—permanently—breaks, but then that, too, will pass. Something bigger always eventually comes along.”

      As bothered as she was by all the talk of an engagement that no longer existed, that wasn’t why she was here. “Bottom right photo. The one of you.”

      His gaze tracked to the photo in question.

      “And…me. Together.” It had been taken in the nightclub in Boston. And it looked like he was holding her to him. His lips were close to her ear. It looked intimate. Nothing like what had really been happening. Although Lexie clearly recalled how it had felt, how even then her brain had fired off frantic warning signals that she hadn’t fully understood about the unfortunate chemistry Rafe caused to spark into life.

      “And could an engagement be in the offing for our other prince?” he read the caption aloud. The small piece went on to answer its own question, speculating that this was just the latest dalliance for a man with more than his share of oats to sow. It asked when the second prince was going to grow up and settle down. It listed Rafe’s previous girlfriends and then went on to wonder at the identity of the mystery woman.

      A tap sounded at the door and it opened slightly. Rafe nodded for a woman in the palace staff uniform, carrying a silver tray with two coffees, to come in.

      He waited till she’d left again. “I didn’t know whether you’d had time for your coffee.”

      “I started one, but I spilt it.” She pointed out the stain on the second paper.

      Rafe passed her the coffee, made just how she liked it.

      “Thank you.”

      He sat and leaned back in his chair, swiveling to look out the window as he sipped his own coffee.

      “What should we do?”

      He took his time answering. “I know I said I didn’t think that picture would make it to the papers, and clearly I was wrong. But I really don’t think anyone’s going to recognize you. Your face is largely obscured, and you really didn’t look like you. I only recognized you that night because I was there. Looking at this—” he tapped the paper “—if I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t guess it. You’re safe.”

      “But you?”

      His frown deepened.

      “They’ve got it all wrong, suggesting it was something it’s not. They’re tarnishing your reputation, and bringing up all your earlier girlfriends.”

      “Tarnishing my reputation?” He sat back in his chair and laughed. “My reputation is so blackened a little tarnish isn’t going to show. And as for all my other girlfriends—” he glanced back at the list “—I’d scarcely have had time for even half of the women mentioned.”

      “It doesn’t make you angry?”

      “Why waste the emotion on something I can’t change? Like I said, some other news will come along and this will be forgotten.”

      “What


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