Her Unforgettable Royal Lover(30)

Which brought her right back to square one. She threw another thoroughly annoyed look at the bed. She should have taken Sarah up on her offer to arrange a hotel room, she thought sourly. If she had, she wouldn’t be sitting here wondering whether she should—or could!—convince Dom to forget about being all noble and considerate.

Shoving out of the chair, she stalked to the wardrobe and reclaimed the shirt she’d slept in last night. She took it into the bathroom to change, and her prickly irritation ratcheted up another notch when she found the hand towel she’d left folded neatly over the rack tossed in a damp pile atop the counter. Worse, the toiletries she’d carefully arranged to make room for her few purchases were once again scattered haphazardly around the sink.

Muttering, she stripped off her new jeans and top. She didn’t think she was obsessive-compulsive. And even if she was, what was so wrong with keeping things neat and orderly?

The sight of her borrowed undies didn’t exactly improve her mood. Dom obviously hadn’t suffered from an excess of scruples with Kissy Face Arabella. Natalie would have dumped the black silk hipsters in the trash if she’d had another pair to step into. She’d have to do more shopping tomorrow.

Yanking the crew shirt over her head, she scrubbed her face and teeth. Then she carefully refolded her towel and scooped up her jeans and top. Just as she exited the bathroom, the front door opened and Duke bounded in. His ecstatic greeting soon had her laughing. Hard to stay in a snit with a cold nose poking her bare thighs and a pink tongue determined to slather her with kisses.

“Okay, enough, stop.” She fended off a determined lunge and pointed a stern finger at the floor. “Duke! Sit!”

He looked a little confused by the English command but the gesture got through to him. Ears flopping, he dropped onto his haunches.

“Good boy.” She couldn’t resist sending his master a smug look. “See, he recognizes his name.”

“I think he recognized your tone.”

“Whatever.” She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “We didn’t resolve the issue of the bed earlier. I don’t feel right consigning you to the sofa. I’ll sleep there tonight.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Look, I’m very grateful for all you’ve done for me. I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than I already have.”

Dom managed not to snort. If she had any idea of just how badly she was “inconveniencing” him at this moment, she’d shimmy back into her jeans and run like hell. Instead she just stood there while his gaze gobbled up the long, slender legs showing below the hem of his shirt. The mere thought of those legs tangled with his started an ache in his groin.

He damned well better not fantasize about what was under the shirt. If he did, neither one of them would make it to the bed. They might not even make it to the sofa.

“I’ve fallen asleep more nights than I can count in front of the TV,” he bit out. “You’ve got the bed.”

He could tell from the way her mouth set that he’d come across more brusque than he’d intended. Tough. After just a little more than twenty-four hours in her company, Ms. Clark had him swinging like a pendulum. One moment his cop’s instincts were reminding him that things weren’t always what they seemed. The next, he ached to take her in his arms and kiss away the fear she was doing her best to disguise.

Now he just plain ached, and he wasn’t happy about the fact that he couldn’t—wouldn’t!—do anything to ease the hurt. And why was she tormenting him like this, anyway?

“You’re not going to bed now, are you?” he asked her.

“It’s almost ten.”

He managed to keep his jaw from sagging, but it took a heroic effort. He could understand her crashing facedown on the bed last night. She’d been hurt. She’d spent who knew how long in the Danube, and had a lump the size of a softball at the base of the skull.

She’d seemed to recover today, though. Enough for him to make an incautious comment. “At ten o’clock most Hungarians are trying to decide where to go for coffee and dessert.”

Her chin tilted. “If you want to go out for coffee and dessert, please don’t let me stop you.”

Whoa! He’d missed something here. When he left to take out the dog twenty minutes ago, Natalie had been all soft and shy and confused. Now she was as stiff and prickly as a horsehair blanket.

Dom wanted to ask what happened in that short time span but he’d learned the hard way to keep his mouth shut. He’d guided his sister through her hormone-driven teen years. He’d also enjoyed the company of his fair share of women. Enough, anyway, to know that any male who attempted to plumb the workings of the female mind had better be wearing a Kevlar vest. Since he wasn’t, he quickly backpedaled.