His Princess in the Making by Melissa James Page B

wanted her, she didn’t know what to believe; how could she believe it? So she hadn’t touched him at all, apart from taking his arm back down the aisle four hours ago. And she hadn’t been alone with him since that family conference in the tea room: Theo Angelis had made certain of it, and for once she’d been grateful for the King’s interference.
    Yet all the contrived avoidance in the world hadn’t stopped her thinking. She couldn’t stop reliving the bare few moments when she’d been in his arms, not as friend but lover, and she still felt his lips on hers.
    Her entire body pounded with excitement whenever she thought about it. And tonight, even the King couldn’t stop them touching.
    “Shall we?” Before she was ready, a hand she knew as well as her own was in front of her, strong and bronzed as the rest of him.
    “Of course.” So excited she was afraid to look up, she rose to her feet.
    Toby kept her hand in his as he led her to the dance floor, and took her in his arms, positioning her beautifully for the Viennese Waltz.
    Nine years ago, Papou had thought it a good idea if she learned ballroom dancing, and had arranged for Toby to learn with her. Of course he’d come; she’d rarely gone anywhere without him back then. He’d always picked her up for dancing lessons once she’d finished with the kids.
    She’d never have learned if he hadn’t taken her. His being six-five to her five-ten, they fit well together—and at seventeen, shy, awkward and uncomfortable with her imperfect, still-recovering body, the thought of facing a stranger, touching someone she didn’t know, had been a major issue.
    Now, as a woman, touching Toby was the issue.
    He danced with a grace rare in such a big man, and he had no problems with the exaggerated movements of the dance that embarrassed so many Aussie guys. He held her close, and guided her into dips and swirls, with the strong arms and back that was his firefighting legacy.
    Not too close, but not close enough, and nowhere near far enough away.
    She could feel the envious glances by the glittering array of women in the room. To be held by this big, tough brute of a man…
    They didn’t know the truth: that the tough exterior held a heart so big and giving, he’d saved her life. He’d moved inwhen his parents had divorced because he’d needed her family, but he hadn’t run when they’d needed help nursing their dying Yiayia. He’d stayed when, lost in grief after Yiayia’s death, none of them had known what to do, and Papou had lost interest in life. Toby had become the glue that held her family together when it had almost fallen apart.
    “Are you going to talk to me, Giulia, or are you pretending I don’t exist for the benefit of our watchers?”
    Startled, she looked up at him with a tiny frown. “I didn’t think you were in the mood for conversation.”
    “You’re right, I’m not.” Slowly he dipped her and brought her back up, close to his face. She saw the sensuous intent in his intense, sky-blue eyes as he growled, “I want to kiss you.”
    Heat flashed through her, a wave of colour filling her cheeks.
    He whirled her out, again with a slowness that felt like a seduction. He brought her back to his taut, hot body, beautifully clad in a tuxedo that cost more than she’d earned in a year back home.
    He looked magnificent. Like a prince on fire. Like a man with every right to touch a princess in front of three hundred important onlookers.
    Trouble was, she felt like anything but a princess when he touched her.
    “Can we talk about something…anything?” she murmured, when the tension, the need, in her was a thin thread about to snap.
    He smiled down at her, warm, intimate. “I’m at your service, for whatever you need, my Giulia.”
    A quiver streaked through her body; liquid heat pooled through her, hearing the soft possessive: my Giulia. “We’ve never discussed how it all happened, that first day when Charlie and I found out who we