by Valerie Parv
"Oh, you care. You want us to think you don't, but you care."
"Sounds as if you've made a thorough study of Homo Remyans," he said. "Well let me tell you, you're wrong. You're the one who cares who I am and where I come from. For me, people can label me whatever they like as long as they stay out of my face."
He might think he was telling the truth but she didn't believe him. Nor did she feel as if there was a gulf between them, certainly not a social one. If he only knew, she could have done with a few more barriers between them to take the edge off the aching desire that consumed her whenever she was around him. It wasn't making a tough job any easier.
The feeling had taken hold from the moment she recognized his photo in the package. It had grown stronger when they'd returned to the palace together. Garth had agreed to Lorne's wish to have the DNA test done immediately, but had tried to argue against leaving for Allora right away. Lorne had won that argument, too. In her job Serena had to be packed and ready to travel at a moment's notice, so the logistics hadn't bothered her as much as her troubling response to her traveling companion.
"Let's leave it, shall we?" she asked tautly, not sure for whose benefit.
"The typical answer of a female on the losing end of an argument," he said.
Her sigh of exasperation hissed between them. If the Carramer First rebels didn't get to him first, she just might. "It's nothing of the sort. We've arrived."
Although known as the summer palace, the royal residence was actually a rambling granite villa, the horseshoe-shaped building a local landmark atop a cliff a couple of miles along winding cliff roads from the seaside town of Allora and its famous Saphir Beach. The walled complex had its own private beach and a vast swimming pool overlooking the ocean. Separated from the main building by a man-made lake was an art studio used by Princess Alison, a talented artist, when the family resided here during the summer.
An ideal place for a honeymoon, Serena thought, then frowned. What was it about Garth that put such thoughts in her head? For the last few months she'd been so focused on becoming head of the Solano R.P.D. that she'd had no room in her life for a love life, far less anything permanent. Now suddenly she was thinking honeymoon?
* * *
Serena was too damned perceptive by half, Garth thought angrily. When Prince Lorne had told him he might be the true heir to the throne, Garth's thought, right after dismissing it as impossible, had been that he would finally show everybody.
Who did he want to show? He'd long ago come to terms with who and what he was. He mourned his parents and regretted that they'd never had the time or money to enjoy life, but he wasn't bereft. His father had been a closed book who never showed affection to anyone, and his mother had been too worried about keeping up with the bills to notice that her son's boyhood was being eaten up with adult concerns.
At some level he'd envied Serena. Everything came so easily to her. Her beauty and success as a model meant she never lacked for male attention. She was wealthy. She was smart. Not for her the frustration of being yanked out of school to help in the family business, thus ensuring he was always ten steps behind his peers.
He wondered if he would have felt so frustrated if she'd directed her dazzling smile his way, although even as a teenager, he'd known it was a fantasy. Then she'd amazed him by turning up in the stands to watch him compete in the pool and on the track. She'd cheered his victories so enthusiastically that he'd wondered who might have gotten her attention. When he'd realized she was cheering him, he'd felt ten feet tall, spurring himself to greater performances to impress her. He'd actually started to hope something could happen between them.
It had taken him weeks to find the courage to invite her to go to the beach with him. Then on the way he'd overheard her accept her friends' bet that she wouldn't have the nerve to kiss him and had felt as if the ground had been torn from under his feet. So he was nothing more than a joke to her. Anger and disappointment had prompted him to accuse her of being nothing more than a pretty face, not because he believed it, but because of the need to hurt her as badly as she'd hurt him.
He hadn't meant to change the course of her life.
He glanced sideways at her. She was showing her ID to the sentry guarding the main entrance of the royal complex. It struck him as unbelievably arrogant to think he'd had anything to do with what she'd become. What next? Thinking of himself as the true monarch?
No, he refused to take any credit for her achievements. Her parents may have steered her life when she was too young to argue, but she would eventually have made changes with or without his influence. He'd seen a sample of her potential when she wiped the floor with her opponents on the debating team in school. Through relentlessly reasoned argument, she'd demonstrated her belief that right should prevail. A career in law enforcement was logical for her. He wouldn't be surprised if she ended up running the R.P.D. one day.
The sentry returned to his post. Seconds later the ornate wrought-iron gates bearing the royal crest swung inward, and Serena drove through. The gates closed silently behind them and she started down a wide drive lined with century-old Tallow wood trees.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"The villa staff were briefed to expect us and security is at maximum," she stated. "If the Hand or any of his people show up here, we'll be ready for them."
He let his brow arch. "The Hand?"
"The code name for the head of Carramer First. We haven't been able to identify him beyond that."
Her tone said she found the situation intolerable. She wouldn't like not knowing, he thought. "Then the Hand could also be a woman," he pointed out.
"Possible but unlikely."
"Don't you think a woman capable of plotting to bring down the royal house?"
"I've no doubt they could, but my instinct and the intelligence we've been able to gather tells me the Hand is male." She tossed him a challenging glare. "It could even be you."
At the castle she'd made no secret of not wanting him to accompany her to Allora until Prince Lorne had insisted. Garth hadn't considered that she might suspect him of being involved in this. So much for the notion that her reluctance had been fueled by an attraction she didn't want to feel. More arrogance, Prince Garth? he asked himself, feeling chilled. What next? Deluding himself that she cared about him?
"If you think I'm behind this, why didn't you have me arrested and thrown into jail?" he demanded.
"Prince Lorne thinks you could be part of his family."
"But you don't."
It wasn't a question. He saw the answer in the cold gaze she turned on him. "You don't think I'm the lost Prince Louis, either, do you?" he persisted.
"In law enforcement I learned not to make assumptions. I'll keep an open mind until I have enough evidence one way or another."
"Enough to hang me," he said quietly.
"That isn't what I want."
"It's what you've always wanted," he insisted. "I'm the proverbial thorn in your side, the man you hate yourself for hankering after but don't know how to stop."
Paydirt, he thought as her knuckles whitened around the wheel. So he wasn't deluding himself after all. "It would suit you just fine to prove that I'm the Hand or somehow in cahoots with him," he went on relentlessly. "Then you'd have all your problems solved in one neat package."
Her head swung from side to side. "I told you, this isn't personal."
She hadn't denied the part about wanting him, he noticed with grim satisfaction. If that wasn't personal he didn't know what was, and before this was over she was going to acknowledge it, he resolved. He would let her decide what she wanted to do about it, but he wasn't going to let her pretend it didn't exist. In the meantime they needed to get something else straight. "You'll have to trust me if we're going to work together."
Her head shot around. "Who said anything about working together?"
"Lorne wanted me here."
"For your protection in case you're the true heir to the throne. This is m
y case. Solving it doesn't concern you."
He clamped a hand on her arm. "The hell it doesn't. You've just admitted you suspect me of some involvement. You owe me the right to prove you wrong."
She took a deep breath then said in a low, vibrant voice, "I suggest you remove your hand from my arm while you still can. The only thing I owe you is gratitude for spurring me to choose my present line of work."
He took his time retrieving his hand. "I thought you said this isn't personal."
"I work better solo."
She was dodging the question again. He had more pressing concerns for the moment. "As it happens so do I, especially when my life is the one being tampered with. So we'll do it your way. You run your investigation and I'll run mine."
She steered the car to a stop beneath an arched portico supported by a row of handsome white columns. "That isn't what I meant and you know it."
He shrugged. "You can't have it both ways."
"Do you have to be so stubborn?"
"I've never been any different."
He saw her lovely gaze cloud. "No, you haven't. I remember when you twisted your ankle during a race. Anybody else would have limped off, but you stuck it out right to the finish line. You came in third but you finished."
Hearing her voice soften, he wished he could touch his hand to her cheek, to turn her head and taste her mouth. It pleased him to know she remembered. "It was fifth place, actually."
"You still finished, although everybody could see you were in agony."
"It wasn't so smart. That stunt put me out of action for a month."
She gave a low chuckle that sent shivers sparkling down his spine. "And you still haven't learned."
A uniformed footman emerged from the villa and approached the car. Before he reached them, Garth said, "We'll talk about this again after we settle in, Serena."
Her look said it was already settled as far as she was concerned, but she gave a reluctant nod. "Talking can't hurt, I guess."
* * *
Garth was right, this was personal and there was no way she could make it otherwise. If she had any sense she would ask Prince Lorne to assign someone else to this case, someone who didn't risk losing every shred of objectivity whenever Garth cast one of those long, lazy looks her way.
There was no one else. She knew that, too. The fewer people who knew about a possible rival claimant to the throne, the better for the country. So she would just have to harden herself against those looks and avoid being alone with Garth as much as she could. Lorne had arranged for the villa to be staffed by a handful of trusted people. She should be able to have someone else around whenever she needed to be with Garth.
She hefted a bag onto an upholstered bench at the foot of a bed big enough to throw a party on. The housekeeper had offered to have someone unpack for her but Serena preferred doing it herself. Being waited on reminded her too much of her modeling days, when people used to follow her around, primping and fussing with her hair and makeup whenever she stopped to draw breath.
Despite what Garth thought, she had never enjoyed modeling. The best thing about it had been her parents' obvious pride in her. Occasionally she wished they took as much pleasure in her present activities, then chided herself for needing their approval at this late stage. It should be enough that she was happy with her life.
She had finished unpacking one bag and had started on the second when a knock came on the outer door. Expecting one of the staff, she was startled to find Garth standing there.
"Settled in already?" she asked, unhappy with the little jump her heart gave at the sight of him propped in the doorway.
"How long does it take to open a closet door and throw a bag inside?"
She felt a rueful grin start. "I must try that sometime."
"Why not now? This place is begging to be explored. Come with me."
Apart from the suspicions she still hadn't shared with him, there was the problem of her reaction to Garth himself. Until she had that under control she didn't want to go anywhere with him without full body armor.
Why she felt the need for it, she didn't want to think.
"I'll take a rain check, thanks. This isn't a vacation. I didn't come here to experience the delights of the summer palace."
"Part of your job is to protect me. I don't see why you can't do it while experiencing delight at the same time."
She folded her arms across her chest, lowering her head a little against a barrage of unwanted sensations. "That's not what I said."
"Close enough." His mouth hovered over hers.
Her own lips parted instinctively until she pressed them together. When she could speak without doing a breathless Marilyn Monroe impression that would betray his effect on her, she said, "You may be able to treat this lightly, but I can't. There's too much at stake."
"For the crown or for you?"
"Both." She hadn't intended to say that but it was too late.
He combed his hair with his fingers. "You really hate me for dragging you away from the presidential task force, don't you?"
"Prince Lorne has to take some of the credit."
"I'd change it if I could."
It helped a little. "Maybe you're right," she conceded, "the unpacking can wait." So could the soul-searching that she knew would follow if she stayed in the suite much longer. Standing beside him, with his gaze warm on her, she could feel herself falling all over again, not as a teenager this time, but as a grown woman who knew what she was doing—and couldn't find a way to stop.
Somehow she had to. Until she knew where Garth stood, not simply in relation to the crown but whether he was on the side of good or evil, she couldn't afford to let her personal feelings matter.
She stepped past him into the corridor. "I could use a walk after being cooped up in the car."
He fell into step beside her, not touching her. "Why do I have the feeling that there's something you're not telling me?"
She let a heartbeat pass. "Probably because there is."
Chapter 5
She said no more, and he didn't ask her to elaborate until they were outside in the sparkling, orchid-scented air. By unspoken agreement they followed a path between stands of ironwood trees to the crescent of white sand that was the villa's private beach.
Automatically she scanned it from end to end looking for anything that might represent a security risk. The beach was guarded by sentinel cliffs extending into the water at both ends. She quartered the ocean looking for vessels but there was nothing to disturb the tranquility.
"The water looks inviting," she murmured, surveying the gentle waves that rolled almost to her feet.
"You haven't been here before?"
She shook her head. "When Prince Lorne and his family come here in the summer I usually take my own vacation." She didn't add that she found it too disturbing watching the prince and princess, so obviously in love, sharing their enjoyment with the delightful crown prince. They reminded her too strongly of what she had so far foregone in her own life.
Garth picked up a shell and skimmed it over the waves. He was good at that, she thought, remembering when he'd done the same thing at the palace in Solano. "The ocean around here is a lot more treacherous than it looks. You must have heard of the serpent?"
She might not have visited the villa but she had done her homework before coming here. "It's the local name for a dangerous current."
He nodded. "One that has claimed more than its share of lives."
She shuddered. "I prefer to do my laps in a swimming pool."
"You've never dived?" He said it as if she'd just admitted to never having tried breathing.
"I took a course after I joined the R.P.D. It was a kind of aversion therapy."
His interest sharpened. "Aversion therapy?"
"To get over a morbid fear of sharks."
He was decent enough not to make fun of her. "They can be intimidating if you don't understand them."
"They eat people. What else is there to u
nderstand?"
"Is there any point in reminding you that more people eat sharks than the other way around?"
"I don't have a problem with that."
"Practically every recorded shark attack has been on surfers, swimmers or people snorkeling and splashing around on the surface. To a shark, that spells food. They almost never bother scuba divers. If you let me take you diving one day, I'll prove it to you."
She rubbed her hands over her arms, not liking the way a tremor slipped through her. Was she afraid of him or the sharks? Both made her more uneasy than she cared for. She hated feeling so vulnerable. "One day."
He read her expression. "As long as it isn't soon."
"I'd rather tackle the sharks on land. Those I know I can handle."
"Spoken like a cop."
"It's what I've been for most of my adult life."
He turned to her, lifting a hand to push a strand of windblown hair away from her face. His touch was light but when he took the hand away her breathing was ragged.
"You still look like a model."
An arrow of anger pierced her. She'd left that side of her behind a long time ago. She wanted him to acknowledge that, again wondering why his approval mattered. "Looks can deceive. I can have you flat on your back on the sand before you can blink."
His glance was measuring, a hint of a smile playing around his generous mouth. "Might be an interesting experience."
Annoyed with herself for thinking along the same lines, she snapped, "You wouldn't think so if it happened. I'm liable to break something." She couldn't even be sure it wouldn't be in her.
"I'll consider myself forewarned." He didn't sound troubled. He sounded as if he couldn't wait.
The promise in his tone sent fantasies tumbling through her mind. She had to fight to clear her thoughts. This wasn't the time and place, if there ever was such a thing for them. Not until she knew where he stood.
She drew herself up. "We're not here to exchange sexual fantasies." Not even when hers made her want to lick her dry lips. "I need to know…"
He cut off the question by simply kissing her. She wasn't prepared, and the touch of heat against her mouth ignited wild-fires all through her. Memories of being sixteen and dreaming of his kiss rushed back. But she wasn't sixteen anymore. She'd been kissed, only not like this.
