The Prince's Resistant Lover Page 0,11

her anger, not understanding it. “What’s wrong, little one?” he asked gently, looking concerned. “You looked very warm and inviting this morning. I was going to disturb you but I figured you might be a bit tender.”

She shifted uncomfortably, wishing he hadn’t said something so considerate. Because she had been tender. Even now, she could feel parts of her body that had been over used the previous night. “I’m not a one night stand,” she told him. “You need to just go find another woman.”

Tamar chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s possible,” he replied.

She raised a honey blond eyebrow, even though it wasn’t nearly as effective as his own black brows. “Really? You can’t pick up some other naïve woman and get into her bed for a quickie?”

Tamar heard her words but wasn’t sure why she was becoming so incensed. “Why don’t you go change your clothes and we can discuss your anger over dinner?” he suggested.

She pushed out of his arms then dropped to her knees, collecting her groceries and stuffing them back into her fabric bags. “I’m not changing clothes, I’m not going out to dinner with you and I’m finished discussing anything with you.”

When she had all of her groceries packed back into her bags, she stood up, slung her purse over her shoulder and slammed her key into the lock. “Good night, Tamar,” she said over her shoulder and went into her apartment, intending to close the door behind her.

Intentions seemed to have a way of going off plan when he was around though. When he simply pushed his way into her apartment, she spun around and glared at him. “Get out!” she snapped.

He smiled gently down at her. “Wyndi, you don’t really mean that. Why don’t you let me take you away from all of this,” he said, looking around at her tiny apartment. “I have an apartment in Manhattan or Paris. I will set you up in either of them and you’d have much more space, money to buy more comfortable clothes and servants to wait on you so you won’t have to carry your groceries anymore.”

She was horrified at what he was suggesting. “I’m not a whore!” she spat out at him. “Now get out of my apartment!” She would have pointed at the door but her hands were still loaded with her groceries. She dumped them onto the small countertop, tossed her purse onto the only chair and turned back to glare at him.

“I don’t consider you in that capacity in any way,” Tamar came back, irritated that she would put those connotations to what he was offering her.

“Oh really? So you’re proposing marriage?” she asked sarcastically.

She knew the answer even before he responded simply because his face closed up. “We could enjoy each other,” he replied.

She shook her head, suddenly too exhausted to argue with him any longer. “Look Tamar, I don’t think this…” she waved her hands between their bodies, “is going to work. We’re just too different. We come from different worlds. Besides, I have things that I need to do with my life. You’re getting in the way.”

He refused to allow her to dismiss him so easily. “You’re tired. Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner and we can talk about what kind of relationship we might have with one another. I would also like to hear your life plans.”

They were sweet words, but she refused to let him sway her. He was a smooth talker, able to get what he wanted simply by the overabundance of charm he conjured up at whim. “Why?” she asked, unable to stop the question from slipping out.

He moved closer to her, grabbing her hands when she tried to step backwards. “Because I find you fascinating,” he replied. “I would sincerely enjoy having your company for dinner tonight.”

Wyndi realized that she was too tired and too vulnerable to go head to head with a man like Tamar. She leaned her forehead against his chest, taking in a deep breath to try and find her resolve. But she was also too hungry. “Can we have pasta?” she asked in a grumpy voice. “With lots of cheese and garlic bread?”

He chuckled and moved closer, his arms wrapping around her gently. “Absolutely,” he replied.

She sighed and looked up at him. “I don’t really have any nice clothes,” she said with a low, embarrassed voice.

“Would you allow me to purchase you a dress?” he asked, looking down at her delicate