Slow Tango With a Prince (Royal Scandals) Read Online Free PDF Page B

hadn’t appeared. The only buyers remaining were a well-dressed older couple, and Emily suspected from the whispered conversation she’d overheard while they toured the master suite that they lived elsewhere in the building and had only come to see the penthouse out of curiosity.
    Emily gave the couple a polite nod as they entered the spacious living room. Wanting to give them solitude to continue their conversation, she moved away from the floor-to-ceiling windows and into the apartment’s sleek, European-style kitchen. An audible sigh escaped her as she allowed her hand to trail across the sparkling white quartz topping the ebony island. She'd give herself five more minutes, then she needed to head back to the office and check on progress. If she didn’t have a shooting schedule finalized by tonight, she’d be forced to call her network’s headquarters in New York to explain the situation.  
    It would be an out-and-out declaration of failure.  
    She closed her eyes, forcing down the bubble of despondency rising in her chest. She still had a few hours. If she couldn’t make something happen, perhaps the staff could. They’d certainly worked miracles in the past. Or, if worse came to worst, perhaps she could tap into her savings and float the cost of the extension herself. Waiting for the Winstons to return from California would wipe out her account, but if it gave the show a fighting chance, she’d do it.
    A shift in the air made her open her eyes. She stifled a gasp as she found herself eye-to-upper body with the very man she’d been hoping to see. How had she not heard his approach?
    Victor stood less than three feet in front of her, his marked-up newspaper rolled in his hand. Despite the fact he wore the same loafers, dark jeans and white Oxford-cloth shirt as this morning, no one could doubt he belonged in an apartment as luxe as this one. He carried himself as if he already owned the place.
    Taller, broader in the shoulder and narrower in the hip than she’d realized during their brief encounter, when a table had served as a buffer between them, he dominated the space between the island and the kitchen’s rear wall of cabinets. He’d sent her heart into a slow flip this morning, but being this close to him fired every nerve in her body. If he spun her around and lifted her onto the counter behind him right then and there, she’d—
    “Now you’re stalking me?”  
    She met his gaze, but the chill in his eyes only served to emphasize the iciness of his tone.  
    Her fantasy died, the connection they’d shared this morning completely severed by his quiet, accusing words.  
    “No, it’s not—”
    “That’s why you put your business card beside my newspaper instead of handing it to me.” He stepped even closer, leaving her trapped between his body and the kitchen's massive island. “You wanted to see which ads I’d circled so you could follow me.”
    She shook her head, hoping he couldn't see how disconcerted he made her. She’d put the business card on the table rather than handing it to him because she’d been afraid he’d pull her fingers to his lips once more and he’d know how utterly desirable she found him. She hadn’t thought twice about the ads she’d seen marked, not until she’d arrived in the office and heard about the Winstons. But how could she explain her action without admitting her intense attraction and looking like a fool?  
    “Then explain your presence.”  
    “I will, if you give me some space.” Why was he so angry?
    He tossed the newspaper onto the island countertop and then surprised her by leaning forward, bracing a palm on either side of her. Her heart leapt into her throat as he spoke. “I’m not giving you anything. I want you to explain yourself. Who’s employing you? How did you get in here? This showing required pre-registration.”
    She blinked. Employing her? Who was this man, to have such a strong reaction to seeing her here? She ignored his