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The Dreaming Of... Collection


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      Jasmine swallowed her relief as the heated look in Prince Reyes’s eyes abated. For a moment there, he’d looked as if he wanted to devour her where she stood.

      And as much as that had sent a bolt of excitement through her, part of her had quailed at the look.

      Hastily, she nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’

      She watched him walk towards an extensive, gleaming wood-panelled bar. A steward approached, but he waved him away. Opening a chiller, he grabbed a bottle of wine and expertly uncorked it. Rounding the bar, he handed her a glass and indicated a row of low, luxurious sofas.

      Taking the seat next to her, he lowered his long body into it, driving the breath straight out of her lungs.

      ‘What shall we drink to?’ he asked in a low, deep voice, his stare focused solely on her.

      Jasmine’s mouth dried. ‘Um, how about congratulations on the progress you’ve made with the treaty so far?’ Talking about the treaty helped keep her grounded, reminded her why she was here.

      His smile held more than a hint of pride. ‘Gracias.’

      ‘Did you achieve what you set out for?’

      Against his usual guarded judgement he found himself sharing with her. ‘It was a long, hard battle, but we’re almost there. By this time tomorrow, a solid trade agreement will exist between our two kingdoms, something my people have needed for a long time.’

      Jasmine’s heart thudded loudly in her ears. Her hands started to shake and she hastily put her glass down. Sensing him following the movement, she flexed her fingers and smoothed them over her dress.

      ‘You should be back there, then, at the museum, celebrating. Why did you leave early?’

      ‘I don’t like crowds,’ he declared. His eyes widened, as if he’d let something slip he hadn’t meant to. A moment later, his expression shuttered.

      Something inside her softened. ‘I don’t like crowds, either.’

      His head snapped up, his gaze searching hers. At her small smile, his tense jaw relaxed.

      ‘I mean, who does, aside from rock stars and, well, crowd lovers?’ she joked. She wasn’t making much sense, but at the moment Jasmine would’ve kept babbling just to keep that smile on his face.

      A small, enigmatic smile twitched his lips before he took a sip of his wine. ‘So what brings you to Rio alone?’ he asked. ‘Carnival was last month.’

      She forced herself not to tense. For a wild moment Jasmine wondered if he could see through her to the truth of her presence in his life.

      Clearing her throat, she shrugged and struck for the half-truth she’d practised in her head. ‘I haven’t had a holiday in years. An unexpected gap opened up in my schedule, and I took it.’

      His eyes slowly narrowed, his fingers stilling around his wine glass. ‘And you just happened to gain the most sought-after invitation to the Prince of Valderra’s birthday party?’ Mild disbelief rang through his voice.

      ‘No. Of course not. My trip isn’t all play. The brokerage firm I work for have been following the Santo-Valderra negotiations for some time. When one of my...clients offered me the invitation, I thought it would be good experience to learn more about it.’

      ‘And have you?’

      Jasmine shook her head. ‘Only what’s been released to the press, which is plenty interesting. I mean, from a brokerage point of view, it’s mind-blowing what you’ve achieved—’

      Jaw tightening, he set his glass down with a sharp click. ‘And you want to know more? To gain first-hand information? Is that why you’re here?’

       CHAPTER THREE

      JASMINE SWALLOWED, TREPIDATION jangling her nerves. ‘I am interested, yes. But no, it’s not why I’m here.’ She spoke through the shame-coated lie.

      His gaze dropped to her mouth. Heat rose in her belly, slowly engulfing her chest, her throat.

      She fought to breathe as the feral, dangerously hungry look once more stole over his face, permeating the air with thick, saturated lust.

      He reached out a hand, caught a lock of hair in his fingers and slowly caressed it. ‘Why exactly are you here, Jasmine Nichols? Why did you not demand to be returned to your hotel?’

      ‘I meant what I said. I’m intrigued by the treaty.’ That much was true. ‘From what I’ve been able to learn about it—’

      He frowned. ‘What you’ve been able to learn? Are you a spy?’

      ‘No!’ she replied hurriedly. Hoping she wasn’t digging herself into an even deeper hole, she continued. ‘The firm I work for brokers deals like these all the time, on a much smaller scale...and I was just wondering if what I’d heard was right.’

      ‘What did you hear?’

      ‘That the treaty heavily favours Valderra...’ Her voice drifted away as a dark look blanketed his face.

       God, what was she doing?

      She wouldn’t be surprised if he threw her off the boat for prying.

      ‘Concessions were made prior to my handling of the negotiations that I have no choice but to honour.’ He didn’t sound happy about it. Just resigned.

      She nodded. His fingers grazed her cheek. She only had to turn her head a fraction and she’d feel more of his touch. Her every sense craved that touch.

      He drew closer, slowly, his fingers winding around a lock of her hair; his eyes not leaving hers. ‘Why do I get the feeling that you’re holding something back from me, Jasmine?’ he asked again, softly this time, his breath fanning over her lips. ‘Tell me why I’m fighting my instincts when I should be heeding them?’

      Her insides quaked with fear...and anticipation. ‘I guess I could tell you that you’re not the only one feeling that way. There’s something about you. Something overpowering, that makes me...’

      ‘Makes you what?’

      Shaking her head, she surged to her feet and stumbled to the railing. Frustrated tears stung her eyes as she stared into the dark waters.

       She couldn’t do this.

      She’d come too far, clawed herself back from a destructive, chaotic past. Going through with Joaquin’s plan, giving in to the thug’s demands would mean stepping back into that dark tunnel.

       But walking away meant Stephen’s destruction. A broken mother.

      She gulped down the sob that threatened.

      And jumped when his lips touched the back of her neck. A mere graze. But it pushed back her dark despair, lit her up like a bonfire on a sultry summer’s night. As if galvanised by that simple touch, she came alive.

      He grabbed her to him, one hand sliding around her shoulder while the other gripped her waist. He kissed the delicate skin below her ear, imprinting himself on her so vividly, every atom in her body screeched in delight.

      He spun her in his arms and kissed her.

      Jasmine had been kissed before. But not like this. Never like this. The fiery tingle started from her toes, spread through her body like wildfire, stinging her nerve endings. He tasted of wine, of dark, strong coffee, of heady pleasure that made her heart hammer as he drew her even closer.

      Her breasts crushed into his chest. The imprint of his muscled torso against hers caused her fingers to tighten on his nape. He growled something under his breath, but the words were crushed between their lips as they both moved to deepen the kiss.

      Somewhere deep within,