Santina's Scandalous Princess(2)

‘Then you must be watching out for the rest of your family,' she said  with an answering edge to her voice. She let her gaze sweep through the  room, lingering pointedly on his outrageous father, who was laughing far  too loudly, before moving on to one of his sisters arguing heatedly  with a guest, and then another sister-some kind of reality TV star, for  heaven's sake!-who certainly looked the part, before finally resting on  yet another sister, a curvy blonde who was poured into a dress and  flirting outrageously with a man twice her age. ‘I don't believe all of  them are able to behave themselves, are they?'                      
      
          



      

Ben's expression didn't change, not one bit, yet Natalia experienced a  ripple of unease anyway. She felt again that impression of latent  strength, leashed power.

‘I believe,' Ben said softly, ‘this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.'

She lifted her chin. ‘I hardly think we can compare families, Mr Jackson, despite their similar sizes.'

‘Ah, I see. You're a snob as well as a brat.'

Natalia drew back, shocked. No one ever talked to her like that, at  least not a commoner at a public event. Within the palace walls was  another matter altogether. ‘You should know,' she told him coldly, ‘that  I could have you thrown out of here for making remarks like that.'

‘Is that a threat?'

Natalia said nothing. It was a threat, and a useless one at that. She  could go and fetch one of the liveried guards standing sentry at the  doors to the palace ballroom, and she could request that they eject Ben  Jackson from the premises. Whether they would do so was highly  questionable. Ben Jackson was the brother of the future queen of Santina  and, despite his family's insalubrious background, an honoured guest.  And the palace staff, on orders from her parents, took any of her  requests with an irritating dose of cautious skepticism. She'd just been  very foolish.

‘Consider yourself warned,' she told him, and he laughed softly.

‘At least you have some sense.'

‘And you have no manners,' she shot back.

His eyebrows lifted once again, and another mocking smile quirked that  rather mobile mouth. ‘Kettle?' he reminded her softly. ‘Pot?'

Natalia resisted the very strong urge to remind him she was of royal  blood. And to kick him in the shins. Or maybe somewhere a bit higher.  She plucked a flute of champagne from a circulating tray and took a  large sip. ‘So,' she said, eyeing him over the rim of her drink, ‘why  are you considering spending time on Santina?'

Ben regarded her for a moment, and then seeming to shrug although his  shoulders barely moved, he decided-thankfully-to be civil. ‘I'm starting  a sports camp for the island's disadvantaged youth.'

Surprise flickered through her. She'd expected him to say something  about touring Santina's sights, or renting a private yacht or palazzo.  The usual reason a restless millionaire came to their shores. ‘How very  charitable of you,' she finally murmured.

‘Thank you.'

‘And I suppose you're hoping to find the next Lionel Messi or David Beckham? Get a few kickbacks?'

Ben narrowed his eyes. ‘If you're implying that my aim in starting this  camp is to find a future star and benefit financially from it then you  would be very much mistaken.'

‘Oh, come now. Surely you can't deny you have something of an ulterior  motive? Or are you going to spend however many weeks or months setting  up this little camp with no profit whatsoever?'

‘As incredible as it seems to you, Your Highness,' Ben murmured, ‘yes.'

Natalia shook her head. She knew enough about business-or at least  men-to realise that no one did anything for free. There was always a  price; it just depended on who paid it. And even if Ben had the  saintliest motives possible, she still liked to annoy him. Especially  since he'd annoyed her so much. ‘Perhaps not a future star, then,' she  acknowledged, ‘but the publicity can't be bad.'

‘You know what they say about publicity. No publicity is bad publicity,  except I don't think that's quite true in your case?' He left it as a  question, but the iron in his eyes made Natalia quite sure that he had  no doubt about the publicity she'd had-or its accuracy. Only last week  she'd been photographed leaving a club at 4:00 a.m., in the company of  two well-known jet-setting playboys. A man like Ben Jackson probably  found that shocking-and shameless. ‘In any case,' he continued, ‘the  amount of publicity generated by a youth club on this small island will  be negligible to my business or its profits.'

Natalia didn't know whether to be amused or outraged by his complete  dismissal of this small island. She was a bit of both. Her mother would  possibly swoon at such scorn. ‘Well,' she said, keeping her voice  careless, ‘since you seem so well-acquainted with the tabloids of  Europe, I have no doubt you'll be able to deliver the information into  the right hands and guarantee yourself a front page or two.'

He stared at her for a moment, long enough to make her lose her edge of  defiance and start to squirm. Or at least want to squirm. Thankfully she  remained quite still. ‘Are you always this pleasant?' he finally  enquired.                      
      
          



      

‘No, I'm not,' she told him. ‘You happened to catch me at a good  moment.' He let out a dry chuckle, surprising her. So boring Ben Jackson  possessed a sense of humour. A small one.

‘I shudder at the thought of catching you at a bad one,' he told her,  and his voice was low and honeyed enough to slide right over her senses.  Restrained and boring he may be, but he was also all too attractive.

Natalia knew she had been rather rude to him, but only because she'd  felt so defensive. As soon as she'd met Ben Jackson he'd examined and  dismissed her, all in the space of a few minutes. She'd spent a long  time perfecting her air of polished, jaded sophistication, and she  didn't like someone like Ben blowing it. Seeing right through it.  Laughing at her. ‘Shudder away,' she told him. ‘Somehow I don't think  we'll be meeting again.'

Ben Jackson let his gaze sweep slowly over her-far too slowly, for  Natalia felt not only as if he were seeing right through her, but  stripping the clothes from her body. Not that she was wearing much. Her  silver-spangled dress was haute couture but very short, with a plunging V  neckline. She felt her body heat all over under his deliberate  scrutiny, and knew Ben Jackson saw the revealing colour wash over her.  Unfortunately she went blotchy when she blushed. Not at all the look she  was going for, and a ridiculous response to a man who had treated her  abominably. She needed to get out of here, before Ben Jackson saw-and  knew-too much.

Ben watched Natalia flush with interest and a sudden kick of lust. She  was a beautiful woman, he had to give her that. Sexy, sophisticated,  with a wicked glint in her eye and a proud tilt to her chin. The dress  she wore was outrageous. In other circumstances, he would have enjoyed  suggesting they both get out of here and go somewhere a little more  private. Very private. Yet he was quite certain, from what he'd read and  now just experienced, that Princess Natalia didn't do private. Not like  he did. He'd had enough scurrilous publicity for a lifetime, and he'd  seen its effects tear through his family, a tornado of rumours and lies.

No, he had another suggestion for the princess. He watched her start to  turn away, still proud, still bristling with affront, and he said,  almost lazily, ‘You can dismiss my football camp all you want, Princess,  as some reprehensible publicity stunt, but I guarantee you wouldn't  last a day-no, an hour-there serving as a volunteer.'

Natalia turned back, eyes narrowed to jade slits. ‘I wouldn't want to volunteer even for an hour,' she snapped.

Ben grinned; he couldn't help himself. Sparring with her invigorated  him, made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in a long time … even if she  was completely annoying. ‘That doesn't surprise me at all.'

‘Let me clarify,' she said icily. ‘I would not want to volunteer if you were present.'

‘I bother you that much?' he enquired, and he couldn't keep the obvious  innuendo from lacing his words. She bothered him. In more ways than one.

‘I simply prefer not to spend my time with arrogant boors.'

He chuckled drily, reluctantly admiring that she never let up. Not for one second. ‘You've summed me up quite quickly.'

‘As you have me,' she pointed out, and to his surprise he thought he  heard a thread of hurt underneath her magnificent disdain. The  possibility made him feel uncomfortable, almost disappointed. He wanted  to take Princess Natalia at face value, no more.