LITMIR.BIZ

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a label to have designer written all over it, with a cashmere scarf artfully knotted around her throat.

      One elegant eyebrow arched as she took in the crumpled sweatshirt and beanie.

      She made him feel rough and uncouth, as if he was still just some island boy carrying suitcases and fetching drinks for the rich out-of-towners. A girl like her wouldn’t have given him the time of day then.

      These days he didn’t give girls like her the time of day.

      Why the hell had he said “yes” to hiring her? He should have insisted on the kind of woman he preferred – confident, sassy. The kind of woman who wasn’t afraid to show a little skin or live on the wild side. At least then he might have had a little fun alongside his espresso.

      The repressed virginal types just brought out his dark side. He wanted to muss up her hair and wipe the satisfaction off her face. He wanted to see her hungry for something she couldn’t have.

      Which wasn’t a good way to start the day.

      He slid into the seat across the table from her and tasted the espresso. Exactly the way he liked it.

      “Good morning,” she said brightly. “I have your new shirt.” She patted the wrapped parcel on the table beside her. The stores would have been closed by the time she left the hotel yesterday. How in all that was holy had she managed to go shopping between then and now?

      And not just any shirt.

      He looked closer at the brown-paper package wrapped in black ribbon with the name of the designer on the attached card. Anton Martens, one of Westerwald’s most famous exports, designer to the rich and famous.

      Christian flipped the card over. There was even a personal message from Anton himself hand written on the back.

      No assistant he’d ever had would have been able to pull that off overnight.

      Tessa sipped her tea. “I’ve spoken to Robbie, the Second Assistant Director. He says they’re ahead of schedule this morning and would like you to join them as soon as possible. Your driver will be out front in ten minutes.”

      “You’d make a good boot-camp drill sergeant,” he grumbled.

      Teresa arched an elegant eyebrow. “Your thanks are overwhelming. Are you always this pleasant in the mornings?”

      “No, I’m usually grumpier.”

      “I’ll remember that.” She sipped her tea and silence fell.

      He downed his first espresso and Teresa waved for the waiter to bring another. With caffeine in his bloodstream, he felt a little less like a barbarian. Not that the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her up to his room abated any.

      The waiter also delivered a platter of croissants with preserves, cold meats and local cheese, but Christian couldn’t stomach food this early.

      “You hungry?” He asked.

      She shook her head. “I already ate. You should eat something. Coffee is not a breakfast.”

      “Wanna bet?”

      Silence fell again. The caffeine worked its way through his system, and he started to feel a little less off balance. A little more rational.

      “You’re early. Does that mean your date wasn’t a great success?”

      “It was a lovely evening, thank you.” And she smiled.

      He leaned back in his seat and contemplated her. Smiling, she looked less stuck-up. Less like the brats he’d had to say “yes, sir” and “no, sir” to all that last summer in Los Pajaros.

      “You should do that more often.”

      “Do what?” Her face smoothed out into the calm, unemotional mask he’d already learned was her default setting. She unconsciously tucked back a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

      He reached across the table and worked it loose again. She froze at his touch. “You should smile more often.”

      He wouldn’t have believed it possible if he hadn’t seen it. She blushed as she turned her face away, revealing just how porcelain-thin her skin really was.

      God, even her neck was perfect. For a wild moment he imagined himself nipping that delicate skin at her throat with his teeth. His body pulled tight in response.

      “I’ll wait outside for the car to arrive.” She began to rise, but he grabbed her hand.

      “It won’t be here for another few minutes and it’s cold outside. Sit down.” He grinned. “I won’t bite, I promise.”

      She didn’t look as if she believed him, but she sat back down and folded her hands demurely in her lap, eyes cast down. He had no illusions it was out of any kind of meekness. He’d seen enough to know Teresa Adler was neither meek nor shy.

      She simply didn’t want to look at him. Why? Other women had no problem looking. And looking. Could it be because of the colour of his skin, or because she thought he was beneath her? It couldn’t be because she wasn’t interested. That blush said she was very interested.

      He wanted to reach out again and touch her, but resisted the temptation. It was growing obvious she didn’t like to be touched. Yet that silky skin, the colour of fresh cream and just as soft, begged him to touch so much he ached with the desire.

      He emptied his cup and put his shades on. “Let’s go.”

      But walking was an effort.

      Christian’s car was a luxury grey sedan with darkened windows. She’d expected a stretch limousine, something showy and pretentious, so the understated elegance came as something of a surprise.

      The driver stood waiting beside the car. He looked military, with his buzz cut and sharp eyes, though he wore an unremarkable suit beneath his massive overcoat. He held the door open for Christian, who climbed wordlessly into the back and turned to Tessa with a quick smile. “He’ll be much friendlier once he’s woken up. I’m Frank.”

      As they pulled off, she called Robbie on her mobile. “We’re on our way. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes, morning rush-hour traffic permitting.”

      “Text me when you’re two minutes away,” Robbie said.

      This was ridiculous. Stefan didn’t buzz his office with two-minute warnings. These film people really were angsty.

      They drove in silence. She was sure Christian dozed behind his dark glasses. If she hadn’t seen firsthand how much of a morning person he wasn’t, she’d have thought it to be a pretentious Hollywood thing.

      Except he hadn’t looked sleepy in that moment he’d touched her. He’d looked as if he’d been stung, those mischievous blue eyes alight with interest. There’d been a startled intensity in his eyes, a focused look that unnerved her even more than his touch had.

      It didn’t bother her that he found her attractive. Many men openly admired her. What bothered her was the nervous flip her stomach had made.

      She paged through the morning papers that had been provided ready in the car, and when they were mere minutes away from the palace she texted Robbie.

      A military guard opened the massive palace gates as they approached, and Frank eased the car around the palace building to the gravelled forecourt, where at least half a dozen trucks were parked, their contents spilled out around them. Several large motor homes stood in a cordoned-off area to one side, and it was here they headed.

      Frank pulled the car up beside the largest trailer before jumping out to survey the area. He opened the door for Tessa and she stepped out, Christian a pace behind, rubbing his bleary eyes as if he’d only just woken.

      Robbie already awaited them, stamping his feet to keep warm in the icy wind that whipped about them. Of course the balmy weather had been too good to last. Tessa stuck her hands deep into her coat pockets. She’d

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