Free Falling for the Princess by Sandra Hyatt Page A

sorry.”
    For a moment she almost believed he was sincere inhis regret. He took two champagne flutes from a hovering waiter and passed one to her.
    â€œThat must be awful for you. Do you have to come very often?”
    â€œI love the ballet.”
    â€œYou do?” For the first time this evening she knew she was hearing genuine sentiment—surprise—in his question.
    Eduardo appeared at Logan’s side. She’d been so intent on Logan that she hadn’t seen him approach. “Rebecca.” He nodded and gave a small tight smile. “Logan.”
    She knew the two men had met previously. She just didn’t think they’d got along. Even looking at them now, and even both good-looking and dressed in tuxedos, they were polar opposites. Eduardo lean and fair, Logan with his darker coloring and more powerful build.
    â€œHow are you enjoying the ballet, Logan? I wouldn’t have thought it was your thing.” Eduardo had been raised in the same circles she had, privileged and cultured—a world away from the blue-collar background Logan had told her a little of, and of which he was so proud. Eduardo was basically a decent man when things were going his way, but he could be cold and calculating and could, at times, be a complete and utter prat. She had the feeling now might be one of those times. She’d refused his offer to accompany her to this very ballet.
    Logan darted a glance at Rebecca, amusement in those dark eyes of his, and she tried to convey with her gaze that she needed him to take this seriously. Her family and friends, many surreptitiously watching, needed to be convinced that they really were in a relationship. That they had things in common.
    â€œI’m enjoying it almost as much as I’m enjoying Becs’s company.” Hopefully only she knew that meant not at all.
    â€œBecs?” Eduardo repeated disapprovingly, echoing Rebecca’s surprise. Logan moved so that he stood beside her. He lifted his hand and touched the bare skin of her back, sending a shiver coursing through her. She couldn’t step away from the touch without destroying the image they wanted to create. And a part of her—a small rebellious part—didn’t want to. His fingers were warm and gentle. His touch possessive. Rebecca took a sip of champagne.
    Eduardo looked intently at Logan for long seconds. “I heard you two were an item,” he said. “I’ll admit I didn’t believe it until I saw you here together.”
    â€œWe ran into each other in New Zealand. Becs hasn’t been able to tear herself from my side since.” His fingers trailed up and down her spine. He couldn’t know the strange effect that movement had on her, causing heat to coil and swirl low within her. She tried to ease just a little away from him, but he spread his fingers and pulled her in closer. She felt the imprint of his palm and of each fingertip. She couldn’t be certain but she thought perhaps those fingertips had slipped beneath the edge of the back of her dress. And again, that image that he’d planted outside on the steps, of him peeling her dress off, came back to her. Those large calloused hands of his that she knew, from watching him at his laptop and tying his bow tie, could also be deft and clever.
    Rebecca swallowed another sip of champagne and marshaled her errant thoughts as she tried to force the heat from her face. “He’s joking, of course. Logan does so love to twist things. He’s the one who can’t seem to let go of me. I was scarcely aware of him until he invited me to dinner that first night.”
    â€œAhh, but you’re aware of me now, aren’t you, ma chérie? ” His thumb circled slowly.
    Far too aware.
    Rebecca’s gaze latched on to the distant entrance to the restrooms. She hadn’t hidden out in a rest room since her early, awkward teenage years, but the thought of doing so at this instant was