Tempted by the Prince (The Raminar Family Book 4) Read online

  An hour later, she’d called the palace travel office and given them Prince Tarin’s itinerary, organized hotels in each of the cities, and coordinated with his housekeeping staff and security team.

  It was after hours now and she guessed that Tarin had gone to eat dinner with his family. She knew that they enjoyed meals together, especially since they all seemed to take a hand in raising the two orphaned nieces, Elsa and Ellora. Those two darlings were getting on in school now and were normal, rambunctious young ladies. Amit was the closest to a father figure that the girls had, but Gaelen and Tarin both made themselves available for advice or conversations, or especially fun activities.

  It was one of the things she loved about this family. They were just that: a family. There were no harsh insults, no passive aggressive compliments, and no power grabs, which she knew happened in other royal families. Furthermore, there was no ridicule for dressing one way or another, no competition for grades or friends or girlfriends.

  Unlike in her family, she thought with a groan.

  Not that Rachel and her older sister, Wendy, ever competed for anything. What a ridiculous thought. As if Rachel could even compete with Wendy’s beauty and glamor.

  Packing up, she glanced around to ensure that everything was neat and tidy, then headed home…or at least, back to the temporary apartment she’d be calling home while working on this project.

  Chapter 3

  Tarin tapped his pen against his notebook, bored out of his mind. Rachel wasn’t cleared for military briefings, so she wasn’t with him. It was just him, Gaelen, and Amit, as well as Izara’s generals and he wanted to toss these papers aside and get the hell out of here.

  Amit and Gaelen seemed to be enraptured by the newest information on troop movements, readiness capabilities, and the seemingly endless issues with their enemies…and their allies. There really was no such thing as a trustworthy ally in the game of world politics. Friendships were formed out of necessity and loyalty, but both could be shattered with one false move.

  Rachel would give her loyalty and friendship completely, he thought. More tapping. More fidgeting in his chair.

  “Are we boring you with this national security stuff?” Amit demanded, turning away from the generals to glare at Tarin.

  Tarin laughed. “Nah. I’m utterly fascinated.” He turned to the general. “Please proceed. I’m completely enraptured.”

  The generals shared in the laugh, knowing that their information was dry. “I think we’re about finished for now,” he replied.

  Even Gaelen smiled, although he tried to appear stern while in Amit’s presence. Chronologically, their oldest brother might be only a few years older, but Amit was an old man at heart. He loved spending time with his family, had never really gone out and sowed his wild oats. He was a home body who worked intensely during the day, only to escape to his family’s private quarters to play with his small kids, then pick up his sketch pads or paintbrush and free his mind as he captured his children or wife’s smiles on paper and canvas.

  Slowly, everyone stood up from the conference room table, but Tarin was aware that no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. So, instead of sprinting out the door in order to go find Rachel, he waited around, chatting and joking with the others.

  “I have to get back to work,” he finally muttered to someone, he wasn’t really sure who. With that announcement, he turned and walked out, eager to see Rachel’s huge, green eyes and quirky smile. Yeah, he had it bad, he thought as he headed down the long hallway.

  Rachel watched the instructional video carefully. She nodded along, shifting in small half movements, locking the next steps into her memory.

  “Right!” she muttered, then stepped into position. Arms up. Chin up. “And…one, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.” Her mind focused on keeping her left elbow high, her right arm straight and tight. “No spaghetti arms!” she reminded herself. “One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.”

  The music swelled from her computer and she glanced over her shoulder at the video that was playing. “And turn!” the man in the video called out.

  “Turn?” she muttered, glaring over her shoulder at the laptop. “Turn how? And where am I supposed to turn?”

  “Definitely avoid the other people,” a deep voice offered from the doorway. “And avoid the furniture too.”

  Rachel jumped about a foot in the air and swung around, finding Tarin leaning in the doorway.

  For a long moment, Rachel stood there, her hand to her heart as she looked at the enormous man lounging in the doorway. Finally, she pulled herself together. “How long have you been standing there?” she demanded, struggling to regain her balance, and folding her hands nervously in front of her. The music on the video increased and the man called out, “Remember your…!” He didn’t get a chance to finish since Rachel slapped her laptop closed. She struggled to appear professional even though she knew that Tarin had probably heard and seen everything. Good grief!

  “Long enough,” he replied and pushed away from the doorway to step into her office. “Are you learning how to dance?”

  “Yes. I just…”

  “From a video?”

  Rachel sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. But she rallied quickly, pulling herself back and looking Tarin straight in the eye! “Yes. I try to improve myself in various ways and…well, dancing is something I’ve always wanted to learn.”

  “Did you ever take dance classes when you were a kid?” he asked, moving closer.

  From this distance, he was so close, she could see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. Fascinating!

  “Rachel?” he prompted.

  Rachel jerked slightly, pulling her eyes away from his. “Um…yes. I begged my mother to let me take ballet lessons.” She smiled crookedly, lifting one shoulder. “She finally signed me up for classes but…apparently, she thought I was too klutzy and looked ridiculous trying the various steps, so my mother only allowed me to take a few classes.”

  Tarin cocked a dark brow. “Klutzy? I doubt it.”

  She grimaced. “I don’t see how you can. I’m always tripping over things.” Only when you’re around, she finished mentally.

  He shrugged a shoulder, dismissing her assertion. “I bet you’re a beautiful dancer, Rachel,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make her shiver.

  She looked up at him, saw the soft look in his eyes and something melted inside of her. “Yes. Well, dancing has always been a dream of mine. But…,” she licked her lips, thinking she should move back, put some space between their bodies. Instead, she stood still, transfixed. “I’ll figure it out.” She turned and picked up a file folder from a stack on her desk. “Here are the proposals you asked for. Plus, I did a bit of research and added a couple more architectural firms that you might want to consider. I evaluated your criteria from the previous list and compared that criteria to some other firms. Any that matched, I pulled up information for your review and included details in this file,” she explained, handing him another file. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  He flipped open the second file and skimmed through the pages. “This is great work, Rachel. Thank you for doing this.”

  “You have another meeting with the Water Board in five minutes,” she explained.

  He sighed, closing the file folder. “Right. Back to the boring stuff, huh?”

  She tried to hide her smile, but he was just so irreverent! “I guess so, Your…” Rachel stopped when she saw the warning in his hazel gaze. Shifting her feet, she glared up at him, although she was unaware of her expression. “I can’t call you by you first name,” she declared. “It’s disrespectful and inappropriate.”

  He grinned. “Ah, but don’t you love living on the wild side?” He put the files down on her desk, then leaned his fists against it. “Come on. Try it. I dare you! Say my name, just once. I bet it would feel liberating!”

  Rachel rolled her eyes, fighting back a laugh at his teasing. Carefully, she folded her hands
in front of her. “You’re going to get me fired.”

  He laughed. “No way. You’re too valuable. I can’t fire you.”

  Her lips quirked slightly, but she quickly shook her head, unaware of the prim, librarian-like way she was standing. Pushing her glasses higher onto her nose, she shook her head. “I’m not using your first name,” she told him firmly.

  His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ll fire you if you don’t,” he returned.

  She rolled her eyes, adding a bit of a huff for emphasis. “You just said I was too valuable to fire. Now, you’re threatening to fire me if I don’t follow your completely inappropriate order?”

  Another shrug of that deliciously muscular shoulder and she had to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing out loud.

  “I’m fickle. So sue me. But you’ll have to use my first name in court.”

  She crossed her arms over her stomach. “Your Highness, has anyone ever told you that you’re a horrible man?”

  He chuckled, straightened to his full height and grabbed the files again. “All the time.” He turned around. “I’ll be in this meeting for about an hour. Would you mind sticking around so that we can discuss these firms over dinner tonight?”

  “Absolutely!” she replied. Then, just because she was in a good mood, she added, “Your Highness.”

  He’d already disappeared through the doorway, but he’d obviously heard her because he stuck his head back through the door. “You’re going to pay for that,” he warned.

  At her laughter, he once again disappeared, and Rachel slapped her hand over her mouth, trying to hide her amusement. “Good grief,” she grumbled happily. “That man is…” she didn’t finish the sentence because too many “wrong” adjectives popped into her head. Describing Prince Tarin as horrible, sexy, gorgeous, or anything else was a bad move professionally.

  Sitting down at her desk, she re-opened her laptop, still smiling at the short interchange with Prince Tarin. Working for Tarin was definitely different than working for Talia. The princess was kinder, asking for assistance and offering praise constantly. Rachel felt like a dynamo while in her employ.

  Tarin was far more demanding, she thought. He didn’t ask, he ordered. But for some reason, she sort of liked that. She liked his autocratic demeanor. Maybe because…her head tilted slightly as she contemplated the differences in Tarin and Talia’s work methods. For the life of her, she couldn’t seem to figure out why she liked Tarin’s managerial style slightly better.

  But she definitely understood why she liked his eyes! Rachel sighed wistfully, thinking about those teasing, hazel eyes of his. She loved the way he looked at her, as if he truly saw her and not just the overly efficient, prim, future-owner-of-twenty-cats lady.

  No, the way he looked at her wasn’t the kind of look a man gave to a woman. It was just…sort of flattering in a strange, breathtaking way. Rachel was pretty sure that Tarin didn’t have any idea that his attention caused her body to crave unspoken things. He couldn’t ever know that her breasts tingled with awareness whenever he walked into a room. Good grief, that would be humiliating!

  Pushing her completely irrelevant reactions to the man’s presence aside, she focused on work. Unfortunately, the project demands hadn’t really kicked in yet, so there wasn’t much to work through at this point. She suspected that she’d be swamped in a week or so, but right now, everything was slow.

  “Great,” she muttered, slumping slightly over her desk and looking around for something more to accomplish. “Can’t go home, but why would I? Not much to do there either.” She leaned back in her chair and adjusted the folds of her flowered skirt more primly over her knees. “It isn’t even my home,” she grumbled, thinking about the luxurious apartment that the Izara government had allowed her to use for the duration of this project. But it wasn’t her home. She didn’t feel comfortable rearranging the furniture or hanging her pictures or…doing anything. Good grief, she even felt weird sleeping in the bed because it wasn’t made up with her personal sheets!

  “I’m weird,” she sighed.

  Chapter 4

  “Come with me,” Tarin ordered, stepping into Rachel’s office and looking down at her startled face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He couldn’t stop the frown as he took in her silk blouse and the pleated, navy skirt. He didn’t like the outfit. Not even a little! He preferred Rachel in the flowered things she normally wore. The flowered dresses and skirt just seemed…right on her.

  Ignoring his irritation over her outfit, he shook his head. “Nothing. This way,” he urged as she circled her desk to follow.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He slowed when he realized that she was almost running to keep up with him. He had to remind himself how tiny she was. “How tall are you?” he asked, turning right, heading towards the area of the palace where the more formal entertainments happened.

  “I’m tall enough,” she snapped.

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Seriously. Five six? Five five?”

  Tarin watched her bristle with irritation, but she admitted, “I’m five feet, four inches tall. Which is tall enough for anything that I need to do.”

  He laughed, thinking her umbrage was adorable in a sex-kitten sort of way. “Well, at six foot, four and a half, you’re teeny to me.”

  She glared up at him. “I don’t see how my height is relevant to my employment.”

  “It isn’t relevant to your employment. I just wanted to know,” he said, stopping in front of a set of double doors. “But at the moment, I’m going to teach you to dance, so I assure you, it’s relevant.” He pushed open the doors to reveal the palace ballroom.

  Normally, there would be hundreds of guests milling around this room, networking and being seen. The lights would be brightly lit and there would be an orchestra set up in one corner. The ballroom could hold anywhere between five hundred and a thousand guests with enough space for mingling while tuxedo clad wait staff walked around with drinks and appetizers.

  At the moment though, the room was empty and mostly dark. He flipped a few switches and soft lights came on, creating a more romantic effect than he’d anticipated, but appreciated.

  “Dance?” she squeaked.

  He ignored her stunned protest and walked over to the stereo system controls. He fiddled with a few of the dials and, a moment later, soft music flowed through the room. He looked up, listened for a moment, and nodded with approval.

  “This will work,” he said, then turned to find Rachel watching him with huge, worried eyes.

  “Come here,” he said reaching for her. “One hand on my shoulder and,” he took her other hand in his, feeling her trembling as he put his hand on her waist. “Just follow my lead,” he whispered.

  With slow, deliberate movements, he led her through the steps of the foxtrot, not taking large steps, but enough so that she could learn the rhythm of the dance. “This is the basic step,” he told her. “Just form a square in your mind and let your feet follow.”

  She stared at his chest, not daring to look him in the eye when they were so close. That was okay…for now. Soon though, he wanted her looking up at him when they danced.

  “I…this feels awkward.”

  He tightened his grip on her hand, warning her that he was going to turn slightly. “Why is that?” Tarin smiled with appreciation when she easily followed his lead. She was a natural!

  “Because you’re my boss.”

  He turned again and she deftly swiveled along with him. “Actually, Talia is your boss. You’re just helping me on a specific project.” He shifted again. “Relax and enjoy the music, Rachel.”

  She took a deep breath, staring at his chest as she concentrated. “One, two, three, four,” she whispered.

  “Stop counting,” he instructed gently. “Just feel the music. Feel my hands leading you through the steps.”

  She smiled slightly, and stopped counting. As soon as she did that, the rhythm seemed to in
fect her legs and feet. She smiled up at him, her eyes bright with excitement and wonder.

  “See?” he prompted, feeling her muscles relax. Even the nervous trembling seemed to subside.

  “How did you learn to dance?” she asked.

  He shifted so that they were dancing in a circle. He doubted that she even noticed.

  “It’s required of all members of any royal family. We also need to know how to ride horses as expertly as any jockey, speak several languages and know how to charm leaders of the various countries.”

  Her shoulders seemed to melt. “Oh, I’d love to learn to ride,” she sighed.

  The more she relaxed, the more easily her body flowed with the music. “You’re an excellent dancer, once you let yourself enjoy it.”

  She blushed and he thought she was absolutely enchanting. “You’re a good teacher.”

  “No, there’s more to it than that. You have to have innate abilities in order to dance. There’s a rhythm to the music. But if a person doesn’t feel it in their soul, then they’ll never really learn to dance. Some people can do all of the steps to a dance,” he continued, spinning her, his feet moving between her legs and she automatically placed her feet between his, perfectly following his lead. “But they’ll never truly enjoy the beauty of dancing. Music and dancing comes from the soul, not the mind. You have to feel the dance.”

  She stared at his chest, but he could feel her body, felt the sensations flowing through her. Tarin had learned to dance at an early age, under protest, but as he’d grown older, he’d learned to enjoy it. It was a good way to get to know the ladies and a perfect opportunity to avoid irritating conversations. When an annoying diplomat approached, one he didn’t want to talk to, he simply asked the wife to dance.

  Dancing with Rachel was different. It wasn’t just moving to the music together, he realized. They were…dancing! He could feel her body, feel the music flowing through her. When her fingers tightened on his shoulder, he pulled her closer.

  “It’s polite to look at your partner when dancing,” he said, his voice sounding deeper as his body reacted.