Lessons in Seduction (6 page)

Adam adjusted his seat to a more upright position and looked around, frowning. “Danni?” A low warning sounded in his voice.

“Yes.”

“The light is fading.” He glanced at his watch. “And it's snowing.”

“Yes. It's nothing the Range Rover can't handle.” But she didn't like it all the same.

“And we still appear to be going up into the mountains.”

“Ahh, yes, so it would seem.”

“So it would seem?”

She didn't like the heavy sarcasm or the annoyance underlying his words.

“Why are we still going up?”

“Because…”

He waited—far too silently—for her to finish her explanation.

“Because that's how we get to the chalet, and now we're not so very far from it.”

“The Marconi chalet?”

“You keep repeating my words.”

“In an attempt to see if they make any more sense when it's not your mouth they're coming out of. Sadly, they don't. And you're going to have to explain.”

“You fell asleep.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“And you looked so tired.”

“Danni.”

She couldn't ignore the warning in his tone. “And there really wasn't anywhere to turn around.”

“For the last hour there's been nowhere?”

She didn't answer.

“Turn around. Now.”

“I don't think it's a very good idea.” They were only twenty-five minutes from the chalet.

“Clearly you don't think it's a good idea. But that doesn't concern me. What concerns me is getting back to the palace. Tonight. So that I can sleep the night in my own bed and do the things I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow.” His voice was lethally quiet.

“I thought that you'd appreciate the enforced break. I thought you could use it.”

“You thought wrong.”

“Adam, I—”

A jolt shook the car. It shuddered and pulled to the right and at the same time an alarm sounded on the dashboard computer. All three things told her the same thing. The very last thing she wanted to happen.

A flat tire.

She pulled off to the side of the road. For a moment she sat there not daring to look at Adam. She held the wheel. “This will just take a couple of minutes. And then we'll be back on the road.” She'd have it changed quicker than another vehicle could get here for assistance or to pick up Adam. She radioed in her intentions and got out.

By the time she reached the back of the car, he was already there, pushing his arms into a down jacket. “What are you doing?” She hitched up her own jacket onto her shoulders.

“I'm going to change the wheel.” He spoke in a tone that indicated he would tolerate no disagreement.

She disagreed anyway. “No, you're not. I'm the driver. I'm going to change it. That's what I'm here for.” Danni opened the back.

“You're here to drive me where I want to go and you weren't doing that.”

“That's different.”

“I'm not going to get into an argument with you.” He spoke gently but implacably. “This is my car. I'm going to change the wheel.” Adam reached in front of her and lifted out the spare tire.

“If I was a man, would you insist on changing it?” She grabbed the jack and the wrench and followed him to the wheel that sat heavily on its rim.

Adam set the tire down. “If you were your father I would.”

Danni put the jack beside it and turned to him. She knew, and didn't like, the obstinate look in his eyes. “And he'd be just as insulted as I am.”

“Deal with it. I'm not going to stand by and watch while you change the tire. What do you take me for?”

He stepped toward the jack and she insinuated herself into the sliver of space between him and the car, blocking his way.

“But you expect me to stand by and watch you? This is my job, Adam. It's what I'm here for.”

“What you're here for is completely separate.” He sidestepped but she moved with him.

“Not separate, because, in case you've forgotten, I drove you here. Your Highness.” The title was supposed to remind him of their respective roles. It was also intended to let him know how irritated she was with him right now.

Snowflakes drifted between them. “Looks like you just solved our problem. I warned you what would happen if you called me Your Highness. You're fired. Which means you're not my driver, so stand aside.”

Her temper flared. “You can't fire me without written warning.” She had no idea if that restriction held true for the palace, a world that operated with its own rules. She only hoped Adam didn't know either—terms of employment for staff not being a major diplomatic concern. “So, as far as I'm concerned,” she pressed on, “I'm still your driver and I'm going to change the wheel.”

“No. You're not my driver and you're not going to change the wheel.” He stepped closer, intimidating her
with his size and his very nearness. Another inch and they'd be touching. She looked up and met the obstinate light in his eyes with what she hoped was its equal in hers. His breath mingled with hers. His warmth surrounded her. And a very different kind of warmth leaped deep within her. Her heart beat faster, her breath grew shallower. It took her a moment to register and recognize the sensation.

Desire. Need.

No. This couldn't be happening. Not with Adam. It was just the proximity. It was his very maleness, it was the insular life she led, lately devoid of male relationships that weren't purely about camaraderie.

The light in his eyes changed and darkened, the anger and stubbornness replaced by something she couldn't name. Time hung suspended. Slowly, he lowered his head. She breathed in his scent, and without meaning to, moistened her lips and swallowed. He was going to kiss her, and she shouldn't want it.

But she did.

In a single deft movement he slid his hands beneath her armpits, picked her up and set her to one side.

He smiled. Then dusted off his hands. Victorious. Satisfied with his win. Damn him.

It took seconds for her equilibrium to return, for her to get past the fact that she'd thought of Adam that way, and not just in some dim imagining, but with him right here where she could have, and almost had, reached for him. Because he was right there. She'd ached to know the taste of his lips on hers. It had seemed imperative.

And he had seen her thoughts and shunned her.

He crouched beside the wheel, positioned the jack and reached for the wrench, relegating Danni to the
position of observer or at best support crew unless she wanted to tackle him out of the way. Which would get her precisely nowhere. She was left alternating between mortification at her reaction to him, and frustration at the fact that he'd so easily brushed her aside both as his driver and as a woman.

“If you fire me you'll have to drive yourself home. You'll lose all that time you could have spent working.”

“With pleasure,” he said, sounding as though he meant it. “At least I'll know I'll get where I want to go.”

“You'll have to help yourself with your dating issues. Help yourself unwind and lighten up.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked about them. “If this is your idea of helping me unwind, I can live without it.”

He had a point. All she'd succeeded in achieving was to make matters worse.

Adam set to work on the wheel and Danni stood to the side and watched him. Snow dusted his head and shoulders. Petty as she knew it was, she silently tried to find fault with even the tiniest detail of how he changed the tire. He gave her no opportunity.

Usually she found strength and competence attractive. In Adam, now, coming after everything else, these traits were irrationally annoying. As he set the old tire on the ground she reached for it.

“Leave it,” he said. “I'll get it when I'm done.”

It sounded like an order. She ignored him, and to the sound of his sigh, wheeled it to the back of the car.

Sacked. She'd been sacked. Again. That was three times now.

If they were no longer employer and employee and they weren't friends, then what were they? Two ac
quaintances temporarily stranded on the side of the road as the snow began to fall more heavily. Everything was too unpredictable. Including Adam.

Maybe she should have expected his annoyance at her decision to override his request, but she hadn't expected his obstinacy over changing the wheel, and never could she have predicted that flash of awareness that passed between them as they'd faced off. Out of everything, that bothered her the most. The sudden fierceness of it had come out of nowhere.

No traffic passed by on the road. She walked back and continued watching, trying to figure him out. Adam was older, though not that much older; it had just always seemed that way. But because of that and, more importantly, their respective positions, he was untouchable. He was also supposed to be imperturbable, safe and predictable, a touch on the staid side, considered and considerate, dependable. Anything listed in the thesaurus under
safe
would do to describe him. That's who he was.

Until now.

And if Adam wasn't being Adam, it turned her world upside down.

She tucked her gloved hands beneath her arms and bounced on her toes, trying to keep warm.

He lowered the car back to the ground and began giving the wheel nuts a final tightening. “Get back in the car. You're cold.”

“I'm fine.” She crouched beside him and reached for the jack.

He glanced at her steadily. “Anyone ever tell you that you're stubborn?”

“A lot of people as it happens, but it's a bit rich coming from you.”

“Insolent?”

“I might give you that one.”

He shook his head. “Provoking?”

“No more than you.”

He stood. “Exasperating?”

She stood too, glaring up at him. “Pot and kettle.”

Adam looked skyward, as though seeking help from the gray and darkening sky, before his eyes met hers again. Apparently he hadn't found the help he sought because frustration tightened his features.

And there it was again, that something else in his gaze. That something that did ridiculous things to her insides, made the world seem to tilt. She studied him, trying to hide her reaction and trying to figure out what it was that had changed. If she could pinpoint it, she could deal with it.

“Way more than me,” he insisted, incredulous.

“No, because I—”

His hand snaked out, cupped the back of her head and drew her to him.

Adam's lips covered hers, stealing her words, replacing them with the taste of him, overwhelming her with the feel of him, the exquisite heat of his mouth against her cold skin, and the answering heat it ignited within her. He coaxed and dominated and she gave back and gave in, welcoming and returning his fervor.

This was what she'd wanted.

He was what she'd wanted.

Danni slid her arms around him, held him and angled her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Allowing him to draw her deeper under his spell. She
welcomed the erotic invasion of his tongue. And the flames within her leaped higher as though he'd touched a match to gasoline.

The flash point of her response told her how much more she'd wanted this than she'd ever admitted. She lost herself in sensation. Enthralled, enraptured, ensnared.

In seconds he had her backed against the car, his hands cold and thrilling against her jaw. A counterpoint to the heat of his mouth. His fingers threaded into her hair. Fierce, possessive. His body pressed against hers and she arched into it, breasts to chest, hips to hips. Meeting and matching him. Governed by hunger. Slave to sensation. He was everything she wanted and more and he was everything she'd thought—almost hoped—he wasn't. Cool reserve replaced by searing passion.

He kissed her as though starved for her and awakened the same hunger within her.

Danni groaned, weakened and empowered, aflame.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss and drew back. His eyes, passion-glazed, met hers, and she watched as shock and regret replaced that passion. He snatched his hands from her head as though burned and clenched them into fists at his side.

A terrible silence welled.

Her frantic heartbeat slowed and she fought to calm her breathing. Adam swallowed. “Danni, I—”

“Don't.” She turned away from him and picked up the jack and the wrench and strode to the back of the car. She couldn't bear to hear him apologize, to voice the regret written so clearly on his face. She didn't want to hear the word
mistake
from his lips.

Gritting her teeth, she stowed the tools in the back,
mortified by her untutored and revealing response to him. And despite everything she knew, all the things about Adam that would make it impossible for him to want her, or let himself want her, she waited, hoping against hope, that he would speak—not words of regret but something else.

But she could wait only so long.

In silence, Danni headed for the driver's door. Since protocol had clearly been abandoned and left twitching in the snow, she was going to make sure she was the one behind the wheel. It was the only chance she had of control. It would remind them both of who they each were.

He got in beside her, bringing strained silence with him.

There were no guidelines for this scenario.

Danni started the car and took a deep breath as she looked out into the near darkness and the now heavily falling snow. Just as Adam was remembering who he was, she had to remember her role, too. This was not the weather to be driving back in. Visibility would be almost non-existent and the road would be icy and soon snow-covered. Common sense, much as it pained her, had to prevail. She wanted nothing more than for this to be over. She was no coward, but she wanted to run and hide. Instead she took a deep breath and said, “I don't think we should head back to the palace this evening.”