Not Fit for a King - By Jane Porter Page 0,26
saying Bandera, her hometown in Texas. She flushed, took a quick sip of her beer. “I learned Spanish and Italian instead.”
“You’re fluent in both?”
“Yes. You are, too. I read somewhere that you know more languages than any other modern royal. Do languages just come easily to you?”
“I worked at it, the same way I worked at playing football. You don’t improve if you don’t apply yourself.”
“Not everyone is willing to work that hard.”
He shrugged, the thin fabric of his shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and outlining his muscles. “I don’t mind hard work. Never have.”
Hannah bit her lip, liking him more with every moment that passed. Zale was her kind of man—gorgeous, built and brilliant, too. Not fair, she thought breathlessly, far too attracted for her own good.
What she needed was to cool down. “Feel like swimming?” she asked.
“Good idea. It’s hot.” He pointed along the cliff to an opening in the rock. “There’s a little alcove over there by the rock where you can change. Or if you don’t like caves, you can just change here, and I promise not to look.”
“Cave sounds great,” Hannah answered, grabbing her suit and getting to her feet.
In the hollowed-out rock she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the tangerine bikini bottoms before tying the strings of the bikini top around her neck and back. The tiny shiny orange triangles barely covered anything and she sucked in her stomach as if she could somehow make herself smaller.
It took all of her courage to walk back to the blanket in nothing but her suit.
It didn’t help that Zale stood at the edge of the water, watching her walk. He’d changed while she was gone and was wearing black and red surfer-style board shorts instead of the traditional European men’s suit.
She liked the long board shorts. They hung low on his lean hips, showing off his flat, chiseled stomach. He looked like a surfer—tan, lean, muscular—and she couldn’t remember the last time she had found a man this sexy.
Dropping her clothes on the blanket, Hannah walked toward him. “I like your board shorts. Do you surf?”
“I do.” He paused. “Well, I did. I grew up surfing—my brother Stephen was really good—but haven’t gone on a true surf trip in years.”
She waded into the water, gasping a little at the cool temperature. “Where would you go?”
“Wherever there were good waves. Rincon, Brazil, Indonesia, Costa Rica.” He ran a hand through his hair, muscles in his thick bicep flexing. “I miss it. But then I miss football, too. I find it hard, being inside, sitting at a desk, as much as I do.”
“So how do you handle it?” she asked, wading deeper and sinking down to her shoulders. The water felt warmer already. “I run and work out. A lot.”
There was a roughness in his voice, a sound of pain, and Hannah’s chest squeezed. Everything about him was so real, so physical.
Here on this island he was a man, not merely a king, and she found the man incredibly appealing.
Her survival instinct told her to be careful, that allowing herself to feel anything for him would lead to danger. But Zale was so hard to resist. Who else had this combination of dense muscle, burnished skin, keen intellect and burning ambition?
“You need a proper vacation,” she said huskily. “A chance to just unplug and unwind.”
“It’d be nice.”
“Why don’t you take one?”
“Our honeymoon was supposed to be one.”
Hannah inhaled sharply, feeling as if she’d gotten a kick to the ribs.
She’d forgotten yet again that she was supposed to be Emmeline. Forgot he would soon marry Emmeline. Would soon honeymoon with her.
The thought of Zale with Emmeline hurt. “Remind me, what are we doing for our honeymoon?” she asked, hating that she already felt jealous. Hating the idea of them together on a beach like this, talking like this …
“We’re spending ten days on my yacht in Greece and then a few days in Paris so you can do some shopping.”
Hannah chewed on her inner lip, thinking that Zale did not strike her as the type to enjoy cruising the Greek islands on a yacht. He struck her as too active for ten days of sunbathing on a yacht. Some rest was good but wouldn’t he also want adventure, or some of an adrenaline rush? “That doesn’t sound fun for you.”
“It’s what you wanted.”
He meant, that was what Emmeline wanted.
Hannah shook her head, unaccountably angry. Emmeline and Zale were not a good fit. They didn’t belong together.