âPerhaps you could get a stick and draw a line down the beach on the boundary. I promise I wonât cross it.â
âBut how much can I trust your promise?â
Alexa knew sheâd regret letting her normally even temper get the better of her, but at this moment it exhilarated her. âEnjoy the rest of your stay in New Zealand.â With a brisk little air she held out her hand.
Lukaâs long fingers closed around hers. As his mouth branded her skin Alexa crossed a hidden boundary into wild, unknown territory.
She yanked her hand back. White-faced, grabbing for composure, she said shakily, âIs that how you say goodbye in Dacia?â
âThatâs how we say I want you very much in Dacia,â he drawled. âBut you already knew that. And you want me, too. I hope you find it as irritating as I do.â
She swallowed. âIâm going. Goodbye.â
His laugh was low and unamused, totally cynical. âI think weâll see each other again.â
âNot if I see you first,â she shot back.
THE hotel events organiser burst into the drab staff cloakroom with all the drama of a star going nova, her frown easing dramatically when she saw the woman there.
âAlexa! Thank heavens!â she cried. âI was afraid you werenât going to be able to make it. This wretched flu has struck down just about every waiter with security clearance.â
âHi, Carole,â Alexa Mytton said cheerfully, smoothing sheer black pantyhose up her long legs. âI didnât know I had security clearance.â
Carole looked a little self-conscious. âWith all the high-powered bankers in Auckland for this conferenceânot to mention the Prince of Daciaâs security man, who is driving us crazyâhead office insisted we run checks on everyone,â she said. âYouâre as clean as a whistle, of course.â
Something in her voice alerted Alexa. âDid you mention that Iâm a photographer?â
A grimace distorted Caroleâs perfectly made-up face. âNo, because paranoia reigns! I could see I didnât have a hope of convincing the Princeâs man that youâre an up-and-coming studio photographer, not one of the dreaded paparazzi!â
Five years previously, when Carole had owned the top restaurant in the city, sheâd hired Alexa as part-time help. A first-year university student, with no family and no money, Alexa had been grateful for the job, and still enjoyed helping her former boss in emergencies.
âSecurity men are paid to be paranoid,â she said cheerfully, straightening up to pull a long black skirt over her head. She patted the material over her slender hips and shrugged into a classical white shirt.
âHeâs not too bad, I suppose.â Carole surveyed Alexa with a professional eye. âI thought you might have stopped taking casual work.â
âNo, Iâm still saving for that trip to Italy to research my grandfather.â
âTell me when youâre planning to go so I can take you off the roster.â
Alexaâs long fingers flew as she buttoned up the shirt. Laughing, she said, âItâll be another couple of months. But even if I had the tickets Iâd have jumped at the chance to see the Grand Duke Luka of Dacia close up.â Opening her wide ice-grey eyes to their fullest extent, she batted long black lashes and simpered. âHeâs not a regular visitor to unfashionable countries like New Zealand, so this might be my only chance to admire the gorgeous face thatâs sold so many millions of magazines and newspapers.â
Carole leaned forward, her voice dropping into a confidential purr. âMock all you like, but heâs a seriously, seriously beautiful man.â
âLetâs hope I can control my awe and fascination enough not to tip the crayfish patties over him.â
Oh, to be twenty-three again, Carole thought, before remembering what it had been like to ride that rollercoaster of emotions. But it would be great to look twenty-three again! Not that sheâd ever come up to Alexaâs standard. With her warm Mediterranean colouring of cream skin and copper hair the younger woman glowed like an exotic flower in the cramped, utilitarian confines of the room.
âNot patties,â Carole corrected briskly. âThey went out with the fifties. Did the Italian university have any information about your grandfather?â
Alexa shrugged. âA big fat nothing so far.â Skillfully and swiftly she began to plait her thick hair into a neat roll at the back of her head. âEither they wonât give out information, or my Italian is so bad they didnât understand my letter!â