You Can't Fight a Royal Attraction Read Free

tinged with a betraying huskiness that sent another reactive surge of heat climbing inside his body.
    ‘No. Far from it,’ he said, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. ‘It felt like a visual rubdown.’ Against his will, he found himself enjoying the repartee. Then recollection returned.
Earth to Rihaan. Report back, please.
He straightened, brushing an imaginary bit of fluff from his jacket sleeve. ‘You might care to know, though, you’re wasting your time practising that flirtatiousness on me. Keep the quota reserved for those who are more appreciative of it. In other words, stop trying so hard to get a rise out of me.’
    But, for all that denial, the flaring emotion in her gaze wasn’t easy to dismiss. Something dangerous lurked there, almost a lure…
    The instinct to take her up on the unspoken challenge was building and threatening to get out of hand. Except that it wouldn’t be permitted to, he told himself. How could he have allowed who she was to slip from his mind? Her being here, giving in to her own enjoyment once again, said louder than words that she had no thought for those who loved and worried about her.
    ‘You think you’re so smart…’
    He cut in swiftly, ‘Stop doing to death the tired clichés and get going.’
    ‘I’ll come with you but only because of who you are to my brother-in-law. Don’t think you’ve won.’ His lips twitched again. He couldn’t think she’d be proud of these childish retorts in the morning.
    Rihaan marched her to the elevator. Or at least he would have if she hadn’t stumbled. He winced. How bad it would be to twist your ankle on those steep heels. Onthat thought, he caught her firmly around the waist as he led her inside. The scent of wild flowers filled his lungs.
    ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. But he was the one who was sorry for letting his barriers down enough for a mere scent to affect him.
    Mission Madam Trouble
, he typed on a mental monitor.
Objective
: Peace of mind for Vishakha
bhabhisa. Translates to
: Pain in the backside for me.
Fallout
: Fifty pages of to-be-done script put on hold.
Status
: Job underway but overlaid by unexpected androgen squandering.
Plan
: Ignore setbacks induced by visceral urges.
    Conclusion
: Just get her home and out of my head.
    The elevator doors swished open. She attempted to coordinate her exit, tottering precariously on her heels. With an impatient movement he ignored her puny efforts and leaned down to pick her up.
    ‘No!’ She had caught the elevator operator’s amused glance, and looked ready to fight free of his hold.
    ‘Don’t make more of a scene than you already are,’ Rihaan warned.
    ‘Someone up there must hate me,’ she wailed. Airborne and dependent, she was forced to hang onto him.
    ‘Not every girl gets such a grand exit,’ he pointed out. He proceeded to the glass double doors, the doorman there too well-schooled to betray any reaction as he held it open.
    Not that Rihaan was going to let on with even a blink that he didn’t go hauling tipsy ladies around in his arms every day of the week.
    Soon, he had Saira bundled in his sports car and the sleek vehicle was weaving in and out of the Mumbai traffic.
    He drew up as the traffic lights changed and glanced across at the woman beside him. The boring party he had expected had certainly become more interesting. In the closed interior of the car, he was even more aware of herscent and it evoked memories of her deliciously thorough perusal of him back at the bar. But, as he’d told himself, it was best for him to keep his distance. For the last few years he had seen her off and on. Seen being the operative word. He didn’t intend to change the status quo.
    As she felt his gaze she straightened to sit stiffly, staring rigidly forward. Deliberately he fixed his glance on the road, angry that he’d allowed himself to become distracted by her yet again.
    ‘The least you could have done was remember your sister is pregnant and spare her any