LITMIR.BIZ

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won’t have time,’ he said tightly, because he was having to fight the terrible urge to kiss her goodbye—as if she were his wife or something. His smile tasted like acid on his mouth. ‘And don’t forget to book the damned restaurant!’

      ‘I won’t forget.’ She stood at the front door until he’d disappeared out of sight, praying that he would turn round and give her that rare and brilliant smile. But he didn’t.

      Sabrina felt more than a little intimidated at the thought of booking a meal at a place she had only ever read about in magazines. Wouldn’t even her best dress look out of place in a venue as upmarket as that? And, when she thought about it, wouldn’t Prince Khalim be bored rigid with going to fancy restaurants, and Guy, too, for that matter? Wouldn’t they rather try something a little different?

      She spent her lunch-hour scouring the restaurant section of the capital’s biggest glossy magazine, and eventually found what she’d half thought she’d been looking for. She picked up the phone and booked it.

      But Guy was delayed in Paris. He phoned that night.

      ‘This deal is taking longer than I thought,’ he said, and she could hear the sounds of people in the background. ‘I may even have to stay over for a few days.’

      ‘A few days?’

      ‘You’ll be OK on your own, won’t you?’

      Sabrina pulled a face. She couldn’t be missing him already, could she? ‘Yes, of course I will.’

      ‘Just lock up carefully.’ There was a pause. ‘Ring Tom Roberts if you need anything. Actually, I’ll ring him—get him to keep an eye on you.’

      ‘I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me! You make me sound helpless!’ she objected, and could hear the smile in his response.

      ‘Not helpless, Sabrina. Maybe just a little vulnerable at the moment.’ And make damned sure you remember that, he thought grimly as he hung up before tapping out Tom’s number.

      Guy arrived back from Paris on Saturday morning, feeling all frazzled and frayed around the edges as he walked into the kitchen to a delicious smell of coffee. Sabrina was already dressed, busy buttering a slice of toast. He paused for a moment which felt dangerous. Because his kitchen had never felt more of a home than it did at that moment.

      He’d missed her, he realised with a sudden sense of shock.

      ‘Hi,’ he said softly.

      Sabrina turned round slowly, trying to compose her face, making sure that every trace of leaping excitement had been eradicated from her features. She smiled instead. ‘Welcome home! How was your trip? Would you like some coffee?’

      He wanted something a lot more fundamental than coffee, but he nodded his head, sat down at the table and took the mug of coffee she slid towards him.

      ‘You’re up early,’ he commented.

      ‘I’m working today, remember?’

      He frowned. Had it really been three weeks since the last time she’d been in the shop on Saturday morning? ‘Yeah.’ He sighed. He’d been almost tempted to take the day off himself, and to ask her whether she wanted to go to a gallery with him, but if she was working…‘I guess I might as well go in myself.’ He yawned.

      Sabrina fixed him with a stern look. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Guy! You’ve only just got back from Paris. Give yourself a break!’

      He glared at her. ‘I’ve managed to get along just fine for the last thirty-two years without anyone telling me how to live my life, if it’s all the same to you, Sabrina.’ He paused. ‘Did you book the restaurant?’

      ‘I did,’ she said steadily, without missing a beat.

      ‘Which one?’

      Her bright smiled didn’t falter. ‘It’s a surprise!’

      ‘A surprise?’

      She wondered what had caused that sudden hardening of his voice. ‘You don’t like surprises?’

      ‘No,’ he clipped out, and then saw her crestfallen face and relented. It was unpredictability he shied away from. She wasn’t to know that surprises made him feel as though the control which was so fundamental to him could be in danger of slipping away. Loosen up, he told himself—just as he’d told her to. He smiled. ‘It had better be a good one.’

      ‘Oh, I think it will be.’

      ‘We’re picking Khalim up from his hotel at eight.’

      She nodded, trying to be helpful. ‘So shall I order us a car, too?’

      ‘Yes,’ he murmured, wondering why he got the distinct impression that the balance of power had somehow shifted in this relationship without him really noticing. He’d wanted her to try and let the past go, but he hadn’t expected such an enchanting switch into sexy and sassy and bossy mode. It was much too irresistible a transformation. ‘Thanks,’ he added heavily.

      Sabrina spent hours in the bathroom getting ready, comfortable in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be holding Guy up. Thank heavens there were three, she thought, remembering her initial shock at discovering that one flat had three bathrooms all to itself. Back in Salisbury her mother would have been beating the door down by now.

      In the spare room, she pulled out the hanger on which hung the dress she’d bought after work yesterday, and she looked at it with eager eyes. It was a dream—easily the most grown-up and sophisticated thing she had ever owned—but nothing less would do, not for a prince!

      It was in deepest violet velvet and it fell to just above the knee, with long, fitted sleeves. In fact, the whole dress accentuated every curve of her body and the rich, vibrant colour contrasted deeply with her red-gold hair. It was a simple dress, possibly a little too simple, which was why she’d bought diamanté earrings and an ornate and glittering necklace to go with it.

      She stepped back to look at herself in the mirror and gave a nod of satisfaction. The diamanté necklace and earrings sparkled and spangled in the light. She looked good! Maybe the best she had ever looked—and there was an added sparkle to her eyes and a soft flush to her cheeks.

      Guy was standing by the window in the sitting room, doing up his cuff-links, and he looked up as she made her entrance, then froze.

      Sabrina, who had been watching him expectantly, saw the sudden stiffening of his body, the swift hard gleam in his eyes, and her heart sank.

      ‘You don’t think it’s suitable?’

      A pulse hammered at his temple. ‘Don’t be so bloody naïve, Sabrina! Of course it’s suitable—’ He’d never seen anything more suitable in his life—and the thing it was most suitable for was being ripped off her body…He groaned and tried to pay a gracious compliment. ‘It’s lovely,’ he finished lamely.

      ‘Oh. Right.’ She screwed her nose up. ‘You don’t think it’s too over the top?’

      ‘No, I don’t!’ He drew a deep breath. ‘And I think we’ve just about exhausted the subject of what you’re wearing. Now, where the hell is this bloody car?’

      Sabrina hoped that he was going to moderate his language a little, especially in front of Prince Khalim, but now didn’t seem a very good time to say so, especially since at that moment the doorbell rang, and the chauffeur was standing there, telling them that their car was ready. She picked up the same diaphanous silver wrap she’d worn in Venice and turned to Guy.

      ‘Ready?’ she asked, thinking that she’d never seen him in formal black tie regalia before, and just how darkly imposing and broad-shouldered it made him appear.

      ‘And waiting,’ he said, in a grim kind of voice.

      Outside stood a long, gleaming, black car which made the limousine he’d hired in Salisbury look like an ancient old banger. Sabrina felt like a film star as she climbed

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