The Prince's Housekeeper Bride by Carol Marinelli Page A

jet hair, the sculpted and chiseled perfection of his cheekbones and straight Roman nose and full, slightly parted lips. His beautifully arched eyebrows frowned slightly at the intrusion as Alisa quietly set about pouring his morning coffee—an apparent must before he even considered surfacing.
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    Where the hell was he?
    He stretched out his long legs and encountered nothing; he was unused to an empty space in his bed. Still hungover, he opened one eye, but instead of orienting himself, Benito fought wakefulness, enjoying the sweet, soapy, feminine fragrance filling his nostrils, the soft voice lulling him from sleep, watching long, slender fingers shaking slightly as they poured his morning coffee.
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œEleven a.m.” Her voice was coming from the other side of the room now. Benito turned toward the sound and sat up, observing as she pulled open the heavy drapes. Dark curls, loosely tied back, trailed down the back of her dress, the shapeless, voluminous cut of the material serving to accentuate her slender arms and legs and, not so idly, Benito wondered what she’d look like from the front.
    â€œWould you like me to run your bath now?”
    When she turned around, the sun behind made her face almost unreadable, but as she walked toward him, slowly she came into delicious focus. A riot of curls framed her pretty face, dark eyes shyly averted, her full rosebud mouth moved awkwardly as she addressed him and, he noted, the yards of material that swamped her frame couldn’t quite stifle the splendid curve of her breasts.
    Wishing he was still on his stomach, Benito pulled his knees up as she leaned over and handed him his coffee. He saw that those dark eyes weren’t actually black but the deepest green, and that soapy fragrance was momentarily overriding the strong scent of coffee and having the most disturbing effect on him.
    â€œWould you like a bath?” she asked again. Taking the cup from her hand, Benito promptly decided that he needed to get out more—three nights of sleeping alone and he was attracted to the maid.
    â€œPlease.” His nod should have dismissed her—had it been Bianca, his old housekeeper, it would have—but clearly unsure of her role, she stood there uncertainly, her straight white teeth nibbling nervously on her bottom lip as she plucked up the nerve to address him again.
    â€œIs there anything else I can do for you?”
    A very wry smile dusted his lips as a terribly inappropriate thought occurred—she was seriously gorgeous! Benito was tempted almost to pull back the sheets and tell her exactly what she could do for him, and for the first time in probably a quarter of a century, he actually blushed at the depravity of his thoughts.
    â€œSort out the bathroom.” He flicked his hand now to dismiss her. “There is a lot of clutter, women’s stuff. I want it all cleared out. I am tired of looking at her trash. Bin it, please.”
    â€œOf course.”
    Running his bath, adding oils and placing his towels, Alisa caught a sight of herself in the vast bathroom mirror, cringing at her untamed curls and flushed complexion, wondering how she could smarten up without a single tool of the trade. Everything she earned was more than accounted for, what with rent, Marietta’s medicine, books for night school, oh, and on a good week, food!
    What if she didn’t “bin it”?
    Taking the lid off a lipstick, Alisa, lost in thought like a child rummaging through her mother’s makeup, wound it up and held it beside her mouth, oh so tempted to try it on.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    Guilt made her jump. Alisa didn’t know how long he’d been standing there watching her, just a towel slung around his hips. He walked behind her and stared at her reflection, staring at every flicker of her reaction as she burned with mortification, not just at being caught, but at what must surely follow.
    Her