Christmas with a Prince

by Noelle Adams

  After taking a sip, I finally went back to our previous conversation. “So you don’t read the tabloids?”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you did, you probably would have read about me. I used to be... kind of wild. I did a lot of dumb stuff, and drinking was always a part of it. The tabloids... liked to chronicle it.”

  “The tabloids are revolting.” He looked like he hated the paparazzi as much as I did, which was comforting in an odd way.

  “Yeah. My dad’s got money, and I used to party with some well-known people. I’m not a celebrity or anything, but I made the gossip papers occasionally.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t read them. I don’t like them. The tabloids haven’t been kind to my family either.”

  That interested me since it was the first piece of personal information he’d ever shared. “Really? In what way?”

  He seemed to realize that he’d said more than he’d intended because he kind of brushed the question away. “In the normal way. They do what tabloids do.”

  Henry obviously wasn’t a celebrity, so his family must be like mine—connected to important people and thus given peripheral attention.

  I was curious, but my interest in Henry still worried me. No sense in indulging it. So I didn’t ask him for more information.

  “What turned you around?” he asked.

  I gave a little shrug. “My dad had a heart attack three years ago. He had to have triple-bypass surgery. I almost lost him. He’s the only family I have, and I guess it... it scared me.”

  “So you and your dad are close?”

  “We are now. We weren’t really close before. He used to work all the time, and so I barely saw him. I’m sure he always loved me, but we never spent any time together. But I think the heart attack scared him too. He changed after that. He cut down his working hours and made a point of spending time together. I guess we just... turned ourselves around together.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She split when I was a toddler. She’s in California now—on her fourth husband. I never see her.”

  “She never tried to get in touch with you?” He looked surprised, slightly disgusted, and his response made me feel strangely validated. My mother’s desertion was an old wound. I’d lived with it a long time. But for some reason his reaction reminded me how wrong it was that she had done that to me.

  “She’ll call occasionally, and I’ll say a few words to her. Then she’ll forget I exist again.” I took a sip, the sweet, hot liquid soothing and pleasant. “Even at his worst, my dad was miles better than my mother ever was. At least he never left me.”

  Emotion caught me by surprise, and my voice broke as my eyes burned with tears for a moment. I had no idea why I was on the edge of crying, sitting here with a guy who was basically a stranger to me.

  I took a deep breath and a few more sips of hot chocolate until I’d gotten control of myself again.

  Henry must have been able to see my emotional struggle, but he didn’t say anything. He just sat and finished his glass of water until I gave him a wry smile. “What about your parents?” I asked, trying to move us back into casual conversation.

  “They’re good. They’re both good. My dad was always busy too, but he... he loved us and we always knew it. My mom is...”

  “Is what?”

  “She’s used to getting her way, and she has an annoying habit of interfering and manipulating until she makes things to go the way she wants. But she loves us too. We’ve always been a pretty close family.”

  “You have siblings?”

  “Three younger sisters.” He smiled down at the table, like he was thinking about his sisters and it made him happy.

  I really liked that.

  I liked that he loved his family and wasn’t ashamed to show it.

  He wasn’t really at all like the guys I used to hang out with—despite his smug attitude and irresistible sexiness.

  “I’m an only child,” I said when he looked back up to meet my eyes.

  “Were you lonely growing up?”

  “Yes.” I stared at a spot just over his right shoulder as I thought about this reality. “I was lonely all the time.”

  “Are you still lonely now?” His voice was low and warm and slightly husky—comforting but not exactly sexy.

  I shook my head. “No. I’ve got my dad now and some real friends, and I’ve got my volunteer work and graduate school. I’ve got a full life. It’s not perfect, of course, but it’s a good one. I’m not lonely like I used to be.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  I felt my cheeks warming as I realized I was spilling my guts to this guy I barely knew. I had no idea why I was doing it. I didn’t think I even liked him, but I still felt compelled to answer his questions, to open up in a way I almost never did with anyone.

  “Anyway,” I said lamely, fidgeting with my napkin. “That’s me. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “I’ve told you about me, so now you tell me about you. Where are you from?”

  For the first time since I’d sat down at the table, his eyes took on that flirtatious, teasing glint. “Where do you think I’m from?”

  I gave him a little eye-roll. “Somewhere in Europe. But I can’t exactly place your accent.”

  “Well, keep working on it.”

  My soft feelings of closeness to him were vanishing quickly with a wave of familiar annoyance. “You mean you really aren’t going to tell me where you’re from?”

  “It’s more fun for you to guess.”

  I gave an exasperated sigh and straightened up in my chair. “Just when I thought you might actually be a decent guy, you turn obnoxious again.”

  “You must bring it out in me.”

  God, he was cute. And sexy. And nearly impossible to resist.

  I almost—almost—let myself smile back.

  Instead, I summoned all my strength and fortitude and gave him a lofty frown. “Well then, thank you for the hot chocolate. I better get home.”

  He reached into the backpack next to his chair and pulled out a billfold. He left a twenty on the table and stood up at the same time I did. “So you’re annoyed with me again?”

  “Don’t put it on me. You got obnoxious again. That’s what happened.”

  He chuckled, his eyes resting on my face with that amused fondness that made my heart race in a truly ridiculous way. “Ah. I see. I am corrected.”

  “You stand corrected.”

  “Why do I stand?”

  “That’s the expression. I stand corrected. Not that I am corrected.”

  “Got it.” He gave me another little grin.

  I tried not to smile back. I really did. And I kept trying as he walked me down the block to where I’d parked my car in the private lot behind the community center.

  As I opened the driver’s door, he seemed to be standing too close to me. I could feel the heat from his body. I really wanted to touch his chest, his shoulders, the bristles on his jaw that seemed to glint with gold.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay,” I said briskly. “See you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The way he said the words was very different from the way I’d said them. Mine had been a casual dismissal. His was more like a husky promise.

  I did my best not to shiver as I gave him a little push back so I could open the door all the way and get in behind the wheel. “Bye.”

  I slammed the door and tried not to keep looking at him as I backed out of the parking space, exited the lot, and pulled onto the road.

  I might have glanced back a few times, but I really couldn’t help it.

  THE NEXT DAY, I WOKE up thinking about Henry. Despite my firm, internal lectures, I kept thinking about him all morning.

  When it was finally time to head to the center, I was flustered and tired and disappointed in myself. I wasn’t like this. Not anymore. I didn’t let a guy turn my head and make me forget what was most important.

>   I wasn’t like that anymore, and I wasn’t going to be like that again.

  Even if the man was as irresistible as Henry.

  When I passed by the book room and looked in, I saw that Henry was already there. He wasn’t alone though.

  Vicki, one of the college students who volunteered on Wednesdays and Thursdays, was in there chatting with him. She was cute and little and always smiling, and she was smiling even more than usual today.

  She obviously liked what she saw in Henry and wasn’t afraid to let him see it.

  I liked Vicki well enough. She was good with the kids, and she was easy to work with. She was obviously just volunteering for a line of her résumé, but everyone had different reasons for doing community service and résumé building was one of the most common.

  Vicki had never given me any sort of trouble in the year she’d been working here, but I suddenly wished she was gone.

  I didn’t like how she was smiling at Henry.

  This was a completely inappropriate response in every way, and I fought against it immediately. But my smile was still a little cool as I said, “Hi, Henry, Vicki. How’s it going in here?”

  “Look how much he’s done already,” Vicki said in her peppy way. “He’s going to be done in no time!”

  Henry had done a lot in the room. I hadn’t stopped by to look before I’d left the day before, but one wall of shelves was neatly organized already.

  “Excellent,” I said with another forced smile.

  I moved on since lingering would only get me more annoyed with the world.

  It was ridiculous. I wasn’t a teenager anymore, and I didn’t like to feel this kind of adolescent jealousy and competition over a hot guy.

  If Henry liked Vicki, that was fine. That was good. That would get him out of my life—and hopefully off my mind.

  I certainly wasn’t going to hang around and try to get his attention.

  I didn’t do that kind of thing anymore.

  On Thursdays, I didn’t lead a reading circle, but I had some paperwork to do, so after saying hello to all the volunteers and making sure everything was running smoothly, I went to Marcus’s office and sat down at the side table, where he let me work.

  He wasn’t here this afternoon, so nothing should have distracted me.

  I still had trouble concentrating.

  I forced myself to work and not wander the halls to see what Henry was doing and whether Vicki was still flirting with him. It took a while, but I was finally able to focus on my work and get through the paperwork that had collected in the past week.

  I was actually surprised when a voice came from the doorway.

  “You’re busy today?”

  I blinked and glanced up, taking a moment to focus my eyes enough to recognize Henry standing the doorway. “What? Oh, yeah. I guess so.”

  “It’s after five.”

  I glanced at the time and was surprised to see he was right. “I’m about done.”

  “Then I’ll wait for you.”

  My chest clenched slightly in excitement. “You don’t have to.”

  “I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” He was leaning against the doorframe, and his gaze felt like a caress.

  My mind whirled and my pulse quickened, and my skin flushed warm. “Okay.”

  I could barely read the invoice in front of me although I pretended to do so.

  After a minute, I concluded that I was never going to get anything done with Henry standing there watching me, so I stacked the papers, slipped the invoice into a file folder, and put the file in a cabinet drawer.

  “I’m done.”

  He picked up my bag, which I’d left on the floor earlier, and handed it to me. “Can I buy you a hot chocolate again today?”

  I almost said yes.

  It was so close the word was coming out of my mouth.

  But following the swell of excitement and attraction came a wave of fear. Henry made me feel out of control, and that was when I got in trouble.

  I couldn’t let myself get out of control again.

  I had to do everything I could to avoid it.

  So I shook my head. “I better not. I need to get back early today.”

  “Why?”

  I frowned at him. “I have plans.” My only plans for the evening consisted of working on one of the two end-of-semester papers due next week, but Henry didn’t have to know that.

  “Big date?”

  I frowned at him even more. “Why is that any of your business?”

  “Because I want to know my competition.”

  “Your competition?” My voice squeaked just a little in surprise.

  Henry had fallen in step with me as I locked Marcus’s office and then made my way outside and to my car. “Yes. If you have a date, then I’d have to consider him competition.”

  “I’m not going to date you, Henry!”

  “Why not?” He was giving me that little smile, the one that made my head spin the most.

  “You haven’t even asked me out yet.”

  “I asked you for hot chocolate.”

  “I didn’t think that was a date.”

  “You want something better than that? I’ll take you to dinner, to a movie, anywhere you want.” His voice got lower, thicker—so much so that my cheeks burned.

  “I don’t want something better. I don’t want a date.”

  “I think you do.”

  “What is wrong with you? Not every woman is going to fall at your feet, you know.”

  “I don’t want you to fall at my feet. I want you to go out with me. And I don’t want every woman.” We’d reached my car, and he stepped into me so I was trapped between his body and the door. “I just want you.”

  I was almost panting although I was trying to hide it. “Well, you’re not going to get me.”

  He lifted a hand to cup my face. “I think you like me, schatzi.”

  “You think wrong.” Then I paused. “What is schatzi?”

  He looked faintly surprised, and I could see he hadn’t even realized he’d said the word. “It’s German.”

  “German for what?”

  His smile warmed. “German for you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If it’s some sort of endearment, you have no business calling me that. I don’t even like you.”

  “Yes you do.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb, and the little touch sent shivers all the way through me. “You do like me. You’re blushing. And you’re trembling.”

  “I am not trembling, and if I am, it’s because I’m so annoyed with you.”

  “Nice try, but you’re not convincing me.” He lowered his face slightly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  He was going to kiss me.

  I knew it.

  I knew it.

  And I wanted it so much I could almost taste it.

  But I hadn’t wanted something so much in years. I hadn’t felt so out of control in a really long time.

  And it would lead me places I might not want to go.

  So, acting on the flare of panic, I ducked my head and slipped away from where he had me trapped. “I’ve got to go. I don’t like you as much as you think.”

  I didn’t intend to sound mean. I just needed to get away from him.

  Henry was frowning as I slammed my driver’s door and turned on the ignition.

  I couldn’t tell if he was hurt or disappointed or confused or what, and I didn’t dare take the time to figure it out.

  I just drove home, wishing he’d decided he’d liked Vicki instead.

  I might have been jealous—I definitely would have been—but at least I would have been safe.

  Three

  THE NEXT DAY, I SPENT the morning in the university library, trying to finish one of my papers. It was long and painful and boring and the last thing I wanted to do, so I didn’t have a very good morning, and I didn’t make much progress. At eleven forty, I had to stop because I had plans to meet my dad for lunch.

  My father eats lunch at t
he same restaurant every single weekday—a good but overpriced place on the ground floor of the high rise where his office is—so I drove over to meet him.

  The host knew me and took me to my dad’s table immediately, and when I saw my dad’s balding head leaning over his phone as he checked email, my day got a little better.

  “Hi, princess,” he said with a smile, putting his phone away as I sat down.

  It was a little gesture, but it meant something. A few years ago, he would have kept working on email even though I’d sat down at the table. I smiled at him, feeling tired and strangely emotional. “Hey, Dad.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. Just been trying to slug through this paper, and it’s like torture. I’ve got to finish this one tonight so I can start the other tomorrow. I was stupid to procrastinate on them for as long as I did.”

  We talked for a while about my paper. My dad isn’t any sort of expert on philosophy, but he’s a really smart man about ideas in general and he was quick to understand the direction of my argument and even to offer some good questions and suggestions about it.

  When our food came, the conversation turned toward his work, and he told me a couple of funny stories about meetings he’d had that week. They made me laugh, and I was feeling a lot better as I finished my salad and sandwich.

  But then my dad said, “Oh, princess, about that guy I mentioned the other day.”

  “Dad—”

  “Now don’t get angry. I really think you might like this one. He’s in town right now, and evidently he wants to meet you.”

  “No, please, Dad. I’ve told you before I don’t want to be fixed up.”

  “I know you don’t. But this is different. He’s not one of those boring losers like the ones you met before. He’s actually a—”

  “No!” My voice was too sharp, but I was hit with a wave of emotion that surprised me. “I don’t care who he is. I don’t want to meet anyone.”

  My dad blinked, clearly surprised by my reaction.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I must have been really tired and more emotional than normal, because my voice was wobbly. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. But I don’t want to be fixed up. It makes me...”