Humiliated when his intended flees their betrothal dinner, Zahn promises his king he will find London and bring her home — but not before she’s been properly punished. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t love London. Love is a luxury rarely afforded in political arrangements. What Zahn doesn’t count on is the instant lust London inspires when he finally recaptures her. Maybe their union won’t be so dull after all!
Paris Randall has grown up in foster homes, having lost her mother and sister at an early age. She’s learned to take care of herself. Paris doesn’t believe there’s a man out there who excites her enough to make a commitment, but when a tall dark hunk whisks her on his spaceship she changes her attitude. The attraction is instant, but the only problem — he keeps calling her London!
Read an Excerpt
“Girl, your legs must be tired, because you’ve been running through my mind all day.” The corny remark was followed by a lewd whistle as the would-be Casanova eyed Paris as if she were a piece of prime cut meat.
She rolled her eyes heavenward, biting back the retort on the tip of her tongue. Why had she let her co-workers talk her into coming to happy hour with them? She should have hit the gym, then taken a long hot bath and afterwards, curled up with a good mystery novel.
It certainly would have been much better than sitting in a smoky bar with drunken colleagues she normally didn’t hang out with outside of the office. And getting hit on by guys who got their pick up lines off the Internet wasn’t exactly her cup of tea either.
“Hey, baby, are you deaf? I’m talking to you.”
Paris took a sip of her cola. Hell, she didn’t even drink. What was she doing here?
When her unwanted suitor grasped her shoulder, she finally acknowledged his presence. “You’re touching me, which I didn’t give you permission to do, so either leave me alone as I’ve given you no indication your advances are welcome, or you’ll be pulling back a bloody stump. The choice is yours, buddy.”
A snarl crossed the man’s nondescript face, his hazel eyes narrowing with hostility. He yanked his hand away as though he’d been burned. “Are you a lesbo or something?”
“No. I’m just someone with taste.”
“Frigid bitch,” he muttered before storming off.
Why did men assume a woman was a lesbian because they were rejected? They were all a bunch of immature babies.
“Smooth move, Paris. That’s the third guy you’ve shot down in less than an hour. That last guy was kinda cute.” Carol from the finance department took the empty barstool next to hers. She’d been the one to invite Paris to happy hour.
Paris shrugged. “Was he? I didn’t notice.” She took another healthy swig of her soda and then glanced at her watch. Maybe if she left in a few minutes, she could make it home in time to catch the rest of the documentary series on space she’d been watching over the past few weeks.
“I take it you’re not having fun here tonight.” Carol flipped a lock of her long brown hair over her shoulder.
“This isn’t really my scene, but I appreciate you inviting me here. I don’t want to take you away from the others. You don’t have to keep me company. I needed to get away from the smoke in that corner everyone was sitting in. I don’t mean to be a spoilsport. Go ahead. I don’t mind.”
“It’s okay. I’m not really in the mood to hear another fart joke right now. Is anything else the matter? You’ve been looking kind of down lately. Actually, I’m surprised you agreed to come out with us tonight.”
A faint smile touched Paris’s lips. She’d been thinking the same thing. “Maybe I’m just trying to break up the monotony in my life. It seems like all I’ve done lately is go to work, go to the gym, and then go home. It’s been months since I’ve even dated.”
Carol snorted. “I find that hard to believe. All the guys in the office practically fall over their feet when you’re around.”
“And I also know most of them call me the ice princess behind my back. I’m no fool. They’re interested in me because I’m a challenge to them: typical male response.” Paris sighed before taking another sip of her drink.
“Careful, Paris, you’re going to get a man-hater reputation if you keep talking like that.”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be as bad then. Perhaps then, I’ll be left alone. Look, I think I’m going to head out now.”
“Already? You’ve only been here for an hour, not even that really.”
A faint smile touched Paris’s lips. Carol was a nice lady. Under different circumstances they probably could have been great friends instead of acquaintances on very good terms. Paris blamed herself. It was hard to open up to people when she’d learned long ago the only person she could count on was herself. Everyone she’d ever cared about — she’d lost. “I think I’ve had enough of being a killjoy for one night, but thanks again. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”