Prince's Pleasure
Автор
Carole Mortimer
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CHAPTER ONE
‘WHY was I under the impression you were a man?’ Zak’s mouth tightened as he stared at the woman standing outside his hotel suite.
Her brows rose over eyes so deep a brown they were like smooth melted chocolate. ‘I have no idea, why were you?’ she retorted.
He scowled, knowing exactly who was responsible for his erroneous impression. ‘My brother Nik had something to do with it, I suspect!’
‘Do I look like a man?’ the woman teased.
In a word—no!
But, then, Zak hadn’t known what she was going to look like, had he? He had simply been informed by Nik that he had agreed, on Zak’s behalf, for a reporter named Tyler Wood to spend a week with him doing an exclusive interview. Nik, with his usual arrogance, had forgotten to mention that the reporter was young, beautiful, and female!
‘Not in the least,’ Zak allowed dryly, not knowing who he was angrier with, his brother, or this beautiful woman. ‘Nik also forgot to mention that you’re American.’ He frowned, knowing he was going to find it much harder to keep a fellow countrywoman at a distance than he would have the typical English male hack he had been expecting.
Tyler Wood shrugged. ‘Obviously your brother is a man of few words.’
Obviously.
And Zak hated being wrong-footed, damn it!
Despite the fact that Tyler Wood was dressed in green combat trousers, and a fitted black tee shirt, her short dark hair moussed into the spiky asexual style that was the fashion at the moment, there was no way she could be mistaken for anything other than female. Those mesmerizing long-lashed dark eyes apart, she had beautiful gamine features, with a small, snub nose and full, pouting lips, and her petite five foot two frame was definitely that of a woman, the trousers resting low on curvaceous hips, her breasts full—and obviously braless!—beneath the clinging material of her tee shirt.
‘What’s an American doing working for an English newspaper?’ Zak was curious, knowing there were more than enough newspapers and journals in America to keep a reporter busy, without going to the trouble of crossing the Atlantic.
Tyler Wood stared at him for several minutes before answering rather casually, ‘The same as an American actor in England, I suspect—working. Do you think I might come in?’ she added pointedly.
Zak was aware that he couldn’t keep her standing outside in the hotel corridor all morning, but he was still acclimatizing himself to the fact that the reporter who was to follow him around for a week was a gorgeous American woman.
He hadn’t exactly been overjoyed when Nik had told him of the agreed interview, although he had accepted the reasons for it when his brother had explained to him that it had been done to protect Nik’s new wife Jinx from the barrage of publicity that had been about to break over her unsuspecting head.
Tyler Wood had been the initial reporter to leak the story, but after several conversations with Nik she had agreed to back off for a while in exchange for a week of interviewing Zak, an actor rarely out of the headlines, anyway.
But Zak had been expecting a man, and had thought the two of them could just spend a week together on the town. The reporter could then write up his interview, and everyone would go away happy. Discovering that Tyler Wood was a woman certainly put an end to that idea.
He drew in an impatient breath. ‘I suppose you had better come in,’ he allowed ungraciously as he opened the door wider for her to enter.
She reached to just under his chin, he discovered as she moved past him into the hotel suite, her almost elusive perfume that of some fresh-smelling flower.
She turned to smile bewitchingly at him, looking at him from under those ridiculously long, dark lashes.
Zak realized he was annoyed—annoyed because although he had always had a healthy relationship with the media, it had always been a relationship he had kept based on his own terms, and he had certainly never found one of their number attractive before. How the hell was he supposed to spend a week in this woman’s company and keep her at arm’s length at the same time?
She tilted her head to one side, looking at him speculatively now. ‘I have to say, I always got the impression you were more—laid-back and charming than this…’
Zak was fully aware that that was the side of him he chose to present to the media. A side he was going to find increasingly difficult to present to Tyler Wood if he had to spend too much time in her company. Which, it appeared, he did…
He attempted to heal the slight breach he’d created. ‘It’s nine o’clock in the morning, I didn’t get to bed until four o’clock; exactly how laid-back and charming do you want me to be?’
She gave a husky laugh. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Prince. I didn’t mean to imply that you were being less than gracious.’
Zak eyed her with suspicious blue eyes, knowing that, besides being less than charming, he looked less than his best, too. The party last night had been pretty wild, and he had probably drunk a little too much champagne too. He had literally only crawled out of bed five minutes before she had knocked on the door of his hotel suite.
Consequently he had quickly pulled on the black trousers and white silk shirt he had worn to go out the night before, running a hand briefly through the tousled blondness of his overlong hair, having no time at all to shave. Never one for exactly looking well dressed at the best of time, Zak still knew there was studied casualness and just plain scruffy—and he knew exactly which category he fitted into this morning!
‘I am being less than gracious,’ he apologized. ‘Perhaps it’s age? I used to be able to party all night and still be fresh and ready to work on the set by six o’clock the next morning. None of this is for the record,’ he added quickly as she reached into one of the cavernous pockets in her trouser legs and brought out a notebook and pencil.
‘Oh.’ Those brown eyes darkened with disappointment before she placed the notebook back in the pocket to give him a considering look. ‘Exactly how old are you?’
‘Thirty-six. How old are you?’ he came back.
‘Twenty-six,’ she answered without hesitation.
He nodded, having already guessed she was aged in her mid-twenties. ‘And can you still party all night and then go to work in the morning?’
Once again she gave that husky laugh. ‘I never could!’
Zak shrugged. ‘Then perhaps there’s hope for me yet.’
‘Perhaps there is,’ she agreed. ‘Mr Prince—’
‘Zak,’ he corrected tersely. ‘Mr Prince sounds like my brother Nik,’ he explained.
And there could only ever be one Nik: arrogant, determined, forceful, a man totally confident of his own worth. Also now a happily married man, Zak acknowledged affectionately.
‘I was just wondering, Mr—Zak,’ she corrected huskily at his pointed look, ‘if perhaps you feel you have been pressured into this interview by your brother and myself?’
‘Feel as if I have?’ he echoed incredulously. ‘There’s no feel about it, Miss—’
‘Tyler,’ she suggested with gentle mockery.
‘Tyler.’ He nodded impatiently. ‘I was pressured into this interview by you and Nik. What’s the interview for, anyway? Which publication?’ he enlarged as she looked at him blankly. ‘I’m pretty sure that the newspaper which carried your last article about Nik and Jinx isn’t interested in this sort of exclusive interview.’
Was it his imagination, or did those huge brown eyes suddenly no longer quite meet his? Although he wouldn’t be in the least surprised if she felt embarrassed about working for the newspaper that had plastered that story of Nik and Jinx all over its front page; a scandal-mongering tabloid was probably too kind a description of that particular rag!
Tyler gave him another one of those blindingly bright smiles. ‘You’re right, Mr Pr—Zak,’ she corrected herself. ‘But The Daily Informer does have a Sunday newspaper, with a glossy magazine supplement.’
‘And you intend this interview to be published in that supplement?’
She turned to look out of the window at the London skyline. ‘This is rather a magnificent view, isn’t it?’
‘Magnificent,’ Zak agreed dryly. ‘Tyler, I have the distinct feeling that you—’ He broke off as the second knock of the morning sounded on his suite door.
‘That will be my photographer,’ Tyler Wood turned to reassure him as he scowled in the direction of the door.
‘No,’ Zak said firmly.
‘Oh, but I think it might be,’ she said, after glancing at the heavy watch that adorned the slenderness of her left wrist. ‘I asked Perry to meet me here at nine-fifteen—’
‘I wasn’t disagreeing with your guess as to who might be on the other side of that door,’ Zak elaborated. ‘Merely stating that your agreement with my brother didn’t include having a photographer trailing around with me for a week and shoving a camera into my face every minute of the day.’ At least, it had damn well better not have included one!
Those deep brown eyes widened protestingly. ‘But I’ll need photographs to go with the article—’
‘And you can have them,’ he said. ‘At the end of the week. At my convenience.’
Tyler looked as if she would like to argue that particular condition, but one look at his face must have convinced her she would be wasting her time. ‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll just go and tell Perry, and then we can continue—’
‘I’m actually going back to bed, Tyler,’ Zak cut in, ‘but if you would like to, I have no objection to you joining me there so that we can “continue”…?’ He eyed her challengingly, still far from happy at having been pressured into this situation in the first place, and even less happy about it now that he had met the woman who was to be his shadow for a week.
If it weren’t for the fact that he loved and respected his older brother, and if he didn’t think so highly of Nik’s wife, then Zak would have quite simply told Tyler what she could do with this ‘exclusive interview’!
In fact, it might still come to that!
Tyler looked at him narrowly. ‘I have a feeling you’re enjoying playing with me, Zak,’ she said finally.
‘Under other circumstances, I’m sure that I would,’ he taunted, rewarded by the sudden flush to her cheeks. ‘But today? Right now? With a photographer standing on the other side of the door?’ He shook his head. ‘All I want at this moment is to go back to bed. Alone,’ he added with finality.
‘Of course,’ she agreed lightly, walking over to the door with long, determined strides. ‘Perhaps we can meet up again later this afternoon? Without the photographer.’
‘Perhaps we can,’ Zak conceded. ‘Be sure to telephone first, though, hmm?’ he added mockingly. ‘I would hate to shock your delicate sensibilities by having you find me here with someone.’ He raised dark blond brows.
Tyler Wood paused with her hand on the door handle. ‘My sensibilities really aren’t all that delicate, Zak. In fact, it was a pleasant surprise to find you here alone this morning.’
‘Touché.’ Zak nodded an appreciative acknowledgement of her sharp comeback.
She paused before opening the door. ‘Tell me, when you worked with John Devaro last year—’
‘Not another John Devaro fan!’ he groaned before answering her. ‘Yes, he really is as good-looking as he appears on screen. Yes, he really is a very funny guy. Yes—’
‘I was actually only going to ask you if you felt in the least threatened by the fact that his name appeared above yours on the credits,’ Tyler interrupted dryly.
Zak was taken aback at the unexpectedness of the attack—for attack it certainly was. ‘The two of us talked it over and decided we would go alphabetically.’
‘Oh.’ She nodded. ‘See you later, then!’ A slight smile curved her lips as she let herself out of the hotel suite.
Perhaps there was more to Tyler Wood, after all, than a pair of melting chocolate-brown eyes and a stunning smile? Maybe he had underestimated the fact that she was a woman, an American one at that, trying to make it in a country that wasn’t her own, in a profession that was often dominated by men.
And what if he had underestimated her? As he saw it, he had two choices where she was concerned. Considering the way she seemed to get his hackles up without even trying, he could carry on being this obnoxious and uncooperative, or he could give in to the attraction he felt towards her and try charming her into his bed. He was damned if he didn’t, and damned if he did!
Not much of a choice, really.
