by Noelle Adams
“Twenty-four.”
He looked relieved, and I decided he’d probably been worried I was a lot younger.
“And how old are you?” I added.
“Thirty-three.” He glanced over to check my expression. “Too old for you?”
“Of course not.” Edward Farmingham Channing IV was thirty-four, so Jack’s age felt perfectly normal to me. I could hardly tell him that, however. So I said a little tartly, “I have no qualifications for the age of my neighbors.”
This must have surprised Jack because he choked on a laugh. “Good to know. So why didn’t your mom want you to go to college?”
I hadn’t been expecting the question, and I was still distracted by that warm look in his eyes. So I answered without thinking. “It wasn’t college itself. She didn’t want me to leave home.”
“Why not?”
I gave a little shrug. “Family responsibilities.”
“Seriously?”
I understood that most Americans didn’t understand the pressures and expectations that came with being royal or being a Rothman, so I wasn’t surprised or offended by his skepticism. “It’s hard to explain.”
“I understand family pressures.”
“You do?”
“Sure. Ever since I was born, it was understood that I’d take over my parents’ company. My dad built the business from the ground up, starting with a little sporting goods store in a small town. He poured his life into it, and they both always assumed I’d take over when he died. I mean, they never even asked me if I wanted to.”
“Didn’t you want to?”
“Sure, I did, but the expectation did limit my options. It would have been really hard if I’d wanted to do something else.”
I studied his face, suddenly seeing him as more than a sexy man and my neighbor. I was starting to think and wonder about him as a whole person. “What else might you have wanted to do?”
“I was pretty good at football. But not good enough to do anything with it professionally. I think running the company is probably what I would have chosen, even if I had a choice.”
“That’s good, then. That worked out nicely.”
“Yeah. I think it did. What about you? What would you do if you could choose anything in the world?”
No one had ever asked me that before, so I thought about it for a moment. “I’d go to graduate school in art history and then maybe work in a museum or something.”
“I can see that.” He’d finished his second piece of pizza and was obviously taking a break. He leaned back against the couch, gazing at me with interest.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it sounds about right for you. Smart and high falutin.”
“High-falutin?”
“It means—”
“I know what it means. Do I truly come off as a snob like that?” I could see where the impression might come from, given the way I was raised, but I didn’t like the idea at all. I’d tried so hard for the last few years to fit in with everyone else.
“No,” he said quickly. “Not at all. It’s just that there’s something…I don’t know…delicate and untouchable about you.”
I frowned. “I don’t think I’m untouchable.”
He was still gazing at me, and his eyes had taken on that hot look again. It was like he was touching me. Right now. With nothing but that gaze.
I couldn’t look away from him.
“Really?” His voice had gotten a little softer, a little rougher.
“Truly,” I replied, surprised when my voice came out as much thicker than it should have been. “I’m not untouchable.”
“Good.” He reached over toward me and gently stroked my cheek with his knuckles, the touch light, barely glancing over my skin. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I felt myself leaning toward him as excitement and pleasure rushed through me. I couldn’t remember anything feeling as good as that little touch of his hand did.
I wanted even more.
Who knew what would have happened if my phone hadn’t rung just then?
I blinked and jerked at the interruption, and then lifted my phone to see that my mother was calling.
Of course it was my mother. She’d always had this knack for knowing exactly when her daughters might leaning toward something inappropriate.
Like kissing a sexy American with whom she could never have a future.
I sighed, giving up the fantasy of indulging in a little fling, just because I wanted to. “It’s my mother. I better get it.”
“Sure.” He smiled, although he looked faintly disappointed himself.
I connected the call, hoping my mother wasn’t going to be too annoying or intrusive.
After a token greeting, my mother got right to the point. “It’s time to make plans for moving back home.” She’d been born in London and had moved to Villemont as a teenager, and she spoke with a clipped, posh accent. Because of her, we’d always spoken English in the family.
I sighed, although I’d been expecting this conversation long ago. “I still have more than a month until graduation.”
“I understand. But we can’t waste any more time. Edward is not going to wait forever.”
“Mother,” I said, swallowing over my rising frustration. “I’ve told you a hundred times that I don’t want…that.” I changed my original wording because I didn’t want Jack to hear that my mother was trying to get me to marry someone I didn’t want.
That wasn’t at all common practice among regular people. He would think my family was bizarre.
“The marriage has been understood for years.”
“I don’t care if it’s been understood. I’m not having this argument again.”
“But we need the money, Amalie. You know we do.”
I did know that. Our financial situation was a constant source of stress for my mother, even though she was the one who spent most of the money, far more than was reasonable, given the money we had coming in.
“You’ve had your fun,” my mother continued. “And we indulged it. But it’s time for you to come home and do your duty to your family. I’ll talk to your father, and he’ll have Francis Georgeson make the arrangements for your move home.”
Francis Georgeson was the family’s long time administrator. He’d taken care of the day-to-day logistics of the household for as long as I could remember.
I opened my mouth to object again, but she’d already hung up.
I ended the call, slumping back and feeling depressed again.
I loved my family. I always had and always would. But I hated the fact that my life had been planned out for me since I was a baby, thanks to that stupid crown on my head.
“That didn’t sound good,” Jack murmured. He’d almost finished another piece of pizza.
“It was just…my mother. Nagging me about coming home.”
“You said you were from France?”
“Uh, yeah, right between France and Switzerland, in the Alps.”
“Do people always stay home where you’re from and do what their parents want?”
I could tell the idea sounded strange to him. I shrugged. “I guess so.”
“And you can’t do art history there?”
“I could try, but I’d probably end up getting pulled into…other things.” My mother would have me lined up for a dozen diplomatic or courtly duties a week, if I were living at home. Not to mention the eligible bachelors I’d have to dodge.
“Like what?”
I started to reply, but then stopped myself. No matter how much I liked Jack, no matter how much it felt like he wanted to know me better and understand what I was going through, I just couldn’t tell him about an arranged marriage or royal duties. It was simply too far away from the world he knew. He might not even believe me. “I…it’s hard to explain.”
He evidently accepted that I wasn’t ready to give him details. “I know I don’t have the full story, but it seems like you should do what’s right for you.”
>
I smiled at him. “I wish it were as simple as that.”
“Maybe it is.”
I knew it wasn’t, but it was a nice thought. I reached over to pat his forearm, stopping myself before I started to stroke up the hard line of his big arm.
“Anyway,” he said, after clearing his throat. “I’d like to…get to know you better. If you haven’t figured that out already.”
I wanted to get to know him too. “I have to leave in five weeks. There’s not any…future here.”
“There doesn’t need to be one. We could just hang out. No expectations or pressure from me. It sounds like you have enough of those in your life already.”
“Truly?” I peered at his face and saw nothing but interest and sincerity there.
As strange as it sounded, it seemed like this man just wanted to get to know me without expecting anything in return.
“Yeah,” he said with a little smile. “I’ve never met anyone like you, and I don’t want to miss my chance.”
I smiled back at him. I couldn’t help it. I’d never met anyone like him either.
“Plus,” he added with an irrepressible smirk. “You’re incredibly hot.”
Two
Three weeks later, I was knocking on Jack’s door at six o’clock on a Friday evening.
I heard a muffled voice from inside the apartment. I couldn’t hear what it was saying, but I tried the doorknob and found it was opened, so I let myself in.
Jack wasn’t always as vigilant as he should have been about locking his door.
“Jack?” I called out, when I saw the kitchen and living areas were empty.
“In here.” After a moment, his bedroom door swung open, and he appeared in the hall wearing a gray T-shirt and workout shorts. “I was changing clothes.”
“I figure.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Figured.”
“Excuse me?”
“The expression is, ‘I figured.’”
“But I was figuring right now. Shouldn’t it be present tense?”
“Well, right now you can see that I was changing clothes, so you don’t need to figure anything. Before I opened the door, that was when you were figuring. So you say ‘I figured.’”
I thought this through and nodded when I decided it made sense. I narrowed my eyes at him when I saw that Jack’s expression appeared to be laughing at me. “You shouldn’t mock me.”
His amused gaze transformed into warm chuckles. “No mockery. Just help with American expressions.”
“Your help is difficult to distinguish from mocking me.”
He stepped closer to me, tilting his head down as he held my gaze. “You must be mistaken. I wouldn’t dream of mocking you.”
“I don’t think you would dream of it. I think you would do it.”
He laughed again and gave me a one-armed hug, and I couldn’t help but smile in response. I’d never been genuinely offended by his amusement, and now his fondness was so evident that I felt like I might melt in response.
I couldn’t remember anyone but my brother who would laugh at me that way and still obviously care about me so much.
I finally looked away from him—to keep myself from doing something I definitely shouldn’t do—and noticed an enormous basket on his table. “What is this?”
“Oh. That. Someone sent it to me.”
My eyes widened as I realized the basket was full of mini-muffins of different variety and was decorated with cellophane and ribbons. “Who sent this to you?”
“Oh, some woman.”
I gasped. “You must have had a very good date.”
I didn’t like the idea of his going out on such a good date. At all. In the past few weeks, he hadn’t seemed to go out very much, but I didn’t keep track of all his comings and goings, so it was certainly possible that I missed something.
If the woman had responded with this huge basket, it must have been a mind-blowing date.
Jack shouldn’t be blowing any other woman’s mind. The idea made me very unhappy.
“It wasn’t a date,” Jack replied, looking rather self-conscious. “It was someone I’ve been doing some business with. I guess it’s just a gesture of thanks. It’s a little odd, but I do sometimes get things like this.”
Relieved at his mood and at his obvious disinterest in whomever the woman was, I plucked the card from the basket and opened it, deciding he would stop me if he didn’t want me to read it.
Jack didn’t stop me, so I read, Thanks for everything. I look forward to a richly rewarding relationship.
I stiffened my shoulders and met his eyes. “This woman is definitely interested in you.”
“It’s just a business relationship.”
“Not to her. You must believe me. This woman wants far more than business from you.” I scowled slightly at the thought.
He chuckled again and took the card from my hand. “You don’t look very happy about that. Maybe she would be a good match for me.”
“Maybe,” I said, rather primly, since I was trying to hide how bothered I was by this whole discussion. “You’ll have to decide that. It’s not my concern.”
“It looks like you’re concerned about it.” He reached up to brush my hair back from my face, the light touch making me shiver.
“I’m not concerned. You can date and marry and have babies with your muffin-lady, if that’s what you want.”
His eyes held mine, and his expression softened and heated up at the same time. “You said you didn’t want to go out with me, so all I’m left with is my muffin-lady.”
That wasn’t exactly what I’d said. I’d said there could be no future since I was moving home right after graduation. “You are left with any woman you want.”
“Except you.”
“Ex-cept....” I could barely get the word out since my mind was whirling with feeling and excitement. It looked and felt like Jack would kiss me, and I wanted it more than anything. We’d been friendly for the past three weeks—hanging out several times a week and talking nearly every day. But he hadn’t been flirtatious like this, and now he was almost irresistible.
He cupped my cheek. “Except you.”
I tried the words again. “Except…me.” I cleared my throat. “I have to move in fifteen days.”
Jack let out a long breath and dropped his hand. His expression hadn’t changed very much, but something about him felt almost deflated. “I know you do.”
I’d been dreading the move back home more than ever, and now I suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of my life without Jack in it. Even if nothing ever happened between us, I felt closer to Jack than I’d ever felt to anyone but my family.
I would miss him. So much I could feel pain rising in my chest.
Trying to distract myself, I said, “So you should ask out your muffin-lady. She obviously wants more than business.”
Jack shook his head. “She can want all she wants. All I’m offering is business.”
It was wrong to be so pleased by this response—I should want him to be happy in a relationship when I went back home—but I was pleased. Very, very pleased.
I didn’t want him with the muffin-lady. Or any other lady, for that matter.
“So what will you do with all these muffins? They will be stale before you can eat them all.”
“I know.” Jack appeared to pull himself back to his normal casual demeanor and walked over to the table to stare at the enormous basket. “I usually just bring extra stuff like this to the office and let people take what they want. I guess the muffins will still be fresh on Monday.”
I frowned. “Maybe. Or you could make up little baskets and give them to people in the building.”
“What people?”
“What about Ralph and Mark?” I suggested, referring to the daytime and nighttime doormen in our apartment building. “They both have families who I’m sure would enjoy the muffins. And what about Sheila, the housekeeper? She has six children. Did you know that? And what
about Mrs. Daily who lives on the other side of me. She’s all alone and would appreciate the gesture. Her son never comes to visit her, although he lives only a few miles away.”
I was about to go on with some other people who might like the muffins when I saw Jack’s expression and trailed off. “Why do you look at me that way?” I dropped my eyes since his expression was filled with something almost like awe.
“You’re amazing,” he murmured thickly. “Do you know that?”
I could feel my cheeks flushing, but I tried to respond naturally. “I’m not amazing. I was just thinking of people who might like the muffins.”
“You are amazing. And your idea is great. If you can help me divide them out, we can give them out. No use in letting them get stale.”
Relieved that the tension had shifted into something practical to do, I lost no time in opening up the wrapping and dividing out the muffins into several groups of twenty-four each. Then, thinking through the options, I pulled the cellophane off the basket and laid it out so I could cut it into smaller squares, which I used to wrap up the muffins, tying them off with pieces of ribbon I trimmed from the large bow on top of the basket.
“There,” I said. “They look very cute, don’t they?”
Jack had been watching me and helping when I asked him to, and now he was smiling and shaking his head as he gazed down at the little packages. “Amazing.”
I wasn’t sure whether he was talking about the packages or about me, but either one made me feel good. I was flushed and smiling as I picked up the last of the trash and threw it away.
“You’re going to come with me to pass these out, aren’t you?” Jack asked. “I can’t carry them all.”
There was no good reason for me to object, so we made a circuit around the building, passing out the packages and reserving one for when Mark’s shift began in a couple of hours. We didn’t stay long to talk to anyone, but everyone was pleased and surprised and gratified by the gesture, and I couldn’t help but like how they seemed to assume that Jack and I were together.
It wasn’t a feeling I was used to—being paired up with a really good guy in the eyes of other people—and it was something I could easily become accustomed to.
When we returned to Jack’s apartment, I told myself it was time to go back to my own place. I was feeling far too fond of him, attracted to him at the moment, and I wasn’t sure what might happen when I was in this mood.
