Sandra Hill by Love Me Tender Read Free Book Online Page A

irritated my skin.”
    Cynthia turned away in disgust. If being a prince meant being such a namby-pamby, she could do without a prince. Not that any had been offered to her lately. Cynthia directed her attention away from the group outside the officeand, instead, decided to study her surroundings.
    Colored prints of various Ferrama shoes lined one wall. “The Vamp.” “Jezebel.” “Naughty Nights.” “Prim & Sexy.” “Snake Magic.” “Night & Day.” “Well-Heeled.” “Daddy’s Girl.” “Heavenly Toes.” “Oh, Baby!” “Black Beauty.” “Gotta Dance.” “Tippy-Toe.” “Ooh-la-la!”
    She remembered when the first of the Ferrama shoes hit the stores about five years ago. Their biggest selling point had been that women could wear high heels and feel comfortable…that even working women could throw away sensible shoes and wear the same sexy pump from office to nightclub. It had something to do with their uniquely engineered design.
    She moved to the next wall and studied a photograph of three men smiling widely at the camera. All were in shirtsleeves and loosened ties, standing outside a factory—the prince in the center with Alvarez and Beaunare on either side, arms looped over each other’s shoulders. The plaque under the picture read: FERRAMA, INC., THE DREAM BEGINS , 1993. Cynthia squinted to see better. Even though it was only five years ago, they all seemed much younger. And hopeful. Hmmm. Ferrama didn’t look at all like a prince. He was much too relaxed and casual…one of the guys.
    “You’re smiling.”
    Cynthia jerked around to see Ferrama closing the door behind him with an ominous click. He walked slowly toward her, and it took all her resolve to stand her ground and not bolt in the opposite direction. Not that she could do much bolting with her sore foot. “I was smiling because you all looked so innocent then,” she responded. Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears.
    His shoulder brushed hers as he moved closer and glanced first at the picture, then at her. “As compared to…?”
    He’d taken off his suit jacket and was wearing only the black T-shirt tucked into the pleated gray pants. The small gold hoop in his right ear and the Rolex watch at his wrist caught her attention, but only briefly. He was so darn gorgeous…no, he was so darn compelling. For a second, she forgot that he’d posed a question. When she pulled herself together, somewhat, she answered, “…as compared to the slick, devious trio you’ve become now.”
    “Don’t be so quick to judge,” he murmured. “Appearances are sometimes deceptive.” Then he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand trembled slightly before he pulled it back with seeming alarm.
    Her heart skipped a beat, then thundered wildly against her ribs. The feathery brush of his fingertips across her cheek was a clear intrusion into her zone of privacy. A virtual stranger, he violated her personal space with such an intimate gesture. It was almost as if he was giving her notice…a predatory animal marking his chosen mate.
    Where did I get such an outlandish idea?
    Why can’t I find my voice to protest?
    And that trembling of his fingertips…a good touch, that. Ferrama was either a consummate actor, trying to charm her into financial capitulation, or he was equally as rattled as she.
    Is this a role he’s playing to soften me up for the kill? Or is that smoldering look in his eyes real? And why should it matter? Blue-blooded princes don’t get involved with red-blooded commoners .
    I have no time for this. My job and my future are on the line. Get a grip, Cynthia. One slip and you could lose it all .
    “What are we going to do?” he asked in a grainy voice, holding her eyes.
    Yep, the man is pure temptation. That voice alone could make an intelligent woman’s I.Q. slam dunk about twenty points .
    “What are we going to do?” he repeated.
    She couldn’t have averted her face if her life depended on