“Tell me more,” he said, waving to the serving staff who immediately brought in the first course.
“Have you ever heard of nanocrystals?” she asked. He had, but he didn’t react, allowing her to explain them. “These crystals allow light to filter in, just like regular glass, but they block out all heat, making windows much more efficient! Just think about how much that could reduce cooling costs here in Izara, where the afternoon temperatures get up to a million degrees.”
He laughed at her hyperbole, waving his fork towards her plate. “Eat while you talk,” he ordered.
She stabbed a piece of chicken. “There are also wool and seaweed bricks. These materials allow…” she stopped and grimaced. “Okay, those are more effective in cold climates,” she continued, tilting her head to the side as another thought occurred to her. “There is also something called synthetic spider silk. It’s stronger than steel by a huge measure, but can make acoustic building tiles and other spaces.” She stopped and frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know if it is lighter though. So, I’m not sure if it would be useful here. Nor am I aware of how it would hold up in dust storms.”
She shrugged and stuffed the bite of chicken into her mouth.
Over the course of the meal, they debated various building materials, their benefits and uses in a hot climate, where the temperatures could rise and fall over seventy degrees on a daily basis. The afternoons in the summer months were normally in the triple digits while the nighttime temperatures dipped into the fifties and sixties, cool enough to warrant a sweater.
The whole time, he watched her face, fascinated by the changes. When she concentrated, her full lips pressed together. When he countered her idea with one of his own, her lips softened as she absorbed and processed the new information, comparing that data to what she already knew. Her eyes were huge and she took off her glasses, setting them to the side, which made the green of her irises almost glow with excitement.
As the waiters took the empty dessert plates away, Rachel was startled by how much she’d eaten, but also at how comfortable she felt in Tarin’s presence.
“You’re not as scary as everyone thinks you are,” she teased, standing up and placing the linen napkin on her chair.
“Oh, I’m very scary,” he replied, standing as well. “Never doubt it. I’m one of the scariest of my brothers.”
She laughed, then quickly pressed her lips together. “No, that title goes to Sheik el Raminar. Now that is one scary man!”
“Eh, he’s a pussycat,” he countered, putting a hand to the small of her back. “Come, I’ll take you back to your apartment.”
She pulled back, jumping slightly from the heat coming from the touch of his hand. Before, his touch had felt comforting in an oddly tingly way. But now, maybe because of the half a glass of wine she’d consumed during the meal, she felt…alive! Alive and alert and…much more tingly than before dinner.
“You don’t have to see me home, Your…” she stopped at the warning in his eyes. But instead of saying his name, she pressed her lips together, fighting back a smile. Finally, she said, “I can walk home. The apartment is just around the corner.”
“Nonsense. It’s late at night. I’ll walk you home.”
Walk her home? Prince Tarin? Out in the open? “You can’t!” she gasped.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a member of the royal family. You can’t go out in the streets unprotected.”
He laughed softly. “Yes, I can. I do it all the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you don’t. You have a herd of personal guards surrounding you at all times,” she gestured to the two men standing just outside the dining room. “Right there.” She moved a foot away from him. “I promise, I’ll be safe. It’s just a short walk.”
“If you won’t let me walk you home, then one of the palace guards will accompany you,” he told her. “Either that, or you’re staying here inside the palace.”
She almost choked at the idea of staying here. “I definitely can’t stay here!” she told him. “That would be…!”
He shook his head, lifting his hand to stop her argument. “Actually, that makes a whole lot more sense. I think you should just stay here.”
What was he suggesting?! Stay? In the palace? Good grief, that would be a massive breach in protocol! “No!”
He laughed. “Rachel, are you seriously disobeying a direct order?”
Rachel stopped her next horrified objection, her mouth hanging open for one embarrassing moment. When she realized that she truly was arguing with him, her mouth snapped shut but she glared at him. “No, of course I wouldn’t do that. But…”
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
“No. I won’t stay here. It isn’t appropriate. I’m an employee of the Izara government. You’ve already given me a lovely apartment, Your…” she stopped just in time. Her lips curved upwards, but she wouldn’t let her laughter out. “I’m fine where I am. And if it will make you feel better, I’ll get a cab to drive me the two blocks to my apartment.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the dining room. “Good night, Your Highness,” she called over her shoulder. “And thank you for a wonderful evening.” She even added a bit of a curtsy, feeling outrageously daring at the moment. Then hurried out, her navy skirt flapping against her knees as she rushed down the hallway before he could stop her.
Tarin watched her hurry away, wondering if she really thought she could escape him so easily. All he had to do was make a quick phone call and she’d be stopped by any number of the guards. So her hurried pace wasn’t going to save her. Hell, he could walk and catch up with her, since her legs were so much shorter than his. He almost laughed out loud at her belief that she’d won this round.
And why the hell wouldn’t she use his first name? As he watched her peek over her shoulder at him, he suspected it had become a game to her. A game he was determined to win, he thought with increasing relish.
Thinking of her reactions while they were dancing, his mind moved in a different direction, contemplating the pros and cons of what he wanted, versus what might be best. When he realized that both of those answers were the same, he smiled with triumph. Yes, my beautiful Rachel. You are going to be mine, he decided.
Chapter 5
Rachel blinked at the text message, not sure that she was awake enough to understand. “What does he mean? Paris?”
Leaning back against the pillows, she took several deep breaths and re-read the message. “Paris? He wants to fly off to Paris?” For a long moment, she tried to remember the list of cities that he’d mentioned yesterday. She’d spoken to the travel office and…thinking hard…nope, Paris had not been on that list.
The loud knock on her door startled her and she looked around, wondering who would be knocking so early in the morning.
“Just a minute!” she called out. “Probably the property manager again,” she grumbled, grabbing her favorite silk robe. Her hair probably looked like a tumbleweed and her face was clean of makeup. She wore only the small cami and her panties that she’d slept in, but the silk robe covered enough of her sleep attire that she felt comfortable opening the door.