by S. A. Gordon
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saturday passed in an easy flow of friends, food and laughter. The group of ten was all matched into couples somehow, Caitlin noticed, with Ingrid and her boyfriend, Nate, three other established couples, and herself and Liam—even though they weren’t a couple. But it was clear that that’s how it had been set up and Caitlin didn’t know whether to feel flattered or trapped. Perhaps it was all right to feel both. She certainly liked Liam, he was very easy to be around, and Caitlin could see the kindness that obviously made him support his ex through her illness.
Ingrid didn’t even have to try to push Liam and Caitlin together—Liam sought out Caitlin every time there was an opportunity for him to do so: at lunch, around the table and on the beach, when they’d all gone for a walk. He’d even joined her for a swim, despite the water being considerably chillier than she’d been led to believe—by Liam himself. He wasn’t afraid to let her see that, at the very least, he enjoyed her company. Caitlin knew herself well enough to know that if she didn’t like him back she’d be feeling a little overwhelmed by now and that she’d have distanced herself from him. She’d done it enough times: some guy would start acting like a puppy dog and she’d start acting like he had fleas. She did it instinctually—she felt that it was a protection mechanism, to stop her spending too much time with anyone who wasn’t right. It hadn’t always served her well—Matthew had somehow slipped past the radar—but it usually did. Apart from Liam’s remark about her hometown—which she was now sure had been a joke—he’d been nothing but attentive and kind to her.
So Caitlin was well and truly happy to find herself sitting on the sofa near Liam on Saturday night as the others trailed away to their beds with knowing smiles. The room was warm and cozy; they’d eaten delicious food and now Liam was pouring her another glass of wine.
“Thank you,” she said as he finished pouring.
“You’re very welcome,” he said, picking up his own glass and sitting down closer to her.
Caitlin took a gulp of her drink and then smiled at him.
“So, um … Ingrid told me about your ex-girlfriend.” She thought it best to be upfront about the information she had. If Liam was really interested in her—if this might go somewhere—she wanted him to know that she already knew his history.
Liam’s face clouded and he put his glass on the side table.
“Julia,” he said softly. “Uh-huh.” He nodded. “I can imagine what she said.”
“She only said that Julia had been very unwell and that you’d stuck by her but you couldn’t make it work in the end,” Caitlin said, her tone soft.
Liam nodded again. “Yeah. She was … very sick.”
“But she’s getting better, by the sound of it.”
“Yes, she is. But we’re not together,” he said quickly. “We’re just friends.”
“Yes,” Caitlin said, smiling. “Ingrid said.”
Liam stared at her, the low light in the room throwing shadows across his face so that it was hard to read.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly.
Caitlin stared back at him.
“So are you,” she said finally, then she blushed, glad that he couldn’t see it in the gloom.
“I don’t want to be pushy,” Liam continued. “I’m sure you get … pushy guys a lot.”
Caitlin smiled as she shrugged. “It depends on who’s doing the pushing.”
Liam grinned. “Right.” He looked down then back up at her. “I’d like to see you when we get back to the city. Would that be all right?”
Nodding, Caitlin grinned. “It would be very all right.”
He nodded once, like a decision had been made, then he leaned toward her and took her hand tightly, gazing into her eyes as he kissed her—hardly touching her lips at first, then pressing a bit harder, closing his eyes as he brought his other hand to her cheek. Caitlin let herself be caught up in the kiss. She’d never understood it when people said it felt like their insides were melting when they kissed, but she did now. It was like they’d disappeared into a slip in time—she had no idea how long the kiss had been going on when he finally pulled back, drawing out her lips with his, sighing a little.
“That’s a promise,” he said. “That I’ll see you again.”
Caitlin nodded and realized that if she wanted to preserve this perfect moment in her memory, she should go upstairs now and leave Liam sitting there in the half-light, his eyes full of hope. He’d even given her permission to go—he’d said he would see her again. She wondered how he knew that she wasn’t the sort of woman who wanted him to come on strong—why he could see it when all those men she met in bars could not.
“I’m going to head up,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek.
“I won’t be long after you. I’ll just turn off the lights once you’re up.”
She nodded again and stood, her knees a little shaky, then grinned.
“Thank you,” she said.
He frowned a little. “What for?”
“Being you.”
She realized that it sounded like a grand statement but it was the truth, and she wanted to say it. He’d given her hope that there were still genuine, gentlemanly men in the world.
He smiled. “You’re welcome. I hope you’ll find out even more things about me to be thankful for.”
“Oh, really?” She was still smiling. “I’ll take that as a promise too.” Then her face softened. “Anyway—good night.”
“Good night.” He stood and kissed her once, briefly.
Caitlin turned and walked to the stairs.
*
As Caitlin’s feet met the cool surface of the polished floorboards at the base of the stairs, she drank in the sight of the sunny day outside, and then heard the voices coming from the kitchen, where they’d all eaten breakfast yesterday.
She realized she didn’t look too polished—her hair wasn’t brushed and she was in an old T-shirt and shorts that had threads hanging off them—but she didn’t think Liam would mind. And the others certainly wouldn’t care. So she scraped her hair behind her ears and started smiling even before she walked through the door.
As soon as she entered the kitchen she could see Ingrid and Liam standing with a woman who certainly hadn’t been there the day before. Caitlin would have remembered her, because she was stunning—she had glossy chestnut hair and wide brown eyes that were carefully made up, even though it was only eight o’clock. Her smile was wide and dazzling. Her clothes were impeccable: a navy fitted jacket and red jeans that fit her closely, showing off long legs that ended in a pair of blue wedge heels. Caitlin immediately felt sloppy, and sheepish about it.
The trio looked at her, smiles on their faces. Caitlin thought she saw Liam’s smile drop a little but then immediately told herself she’d imagined it.
“Cait!” said Ingrid, a little too loudly. “Come and meet Julia.”
Julia. Wasn’t Liam’s ex called Julia? But Liam’s Julia was struggling with life—they’d broken up and she had problems, so she couldn’t be here and she certainly couldn’t be this glamorous young woman …
“Liam’s ex-girlfriend—sorry, I should have said that,” Ingrid continued, and Caitlin realized that she must have looked surprised or something.
Julia.
Caitlin’s stomach suddenly shrank and her mouth went dry. All she could think of was that she’d been played—that Liam had toyed with her. He’d led her on and he was probably laughing at her naivety. He wasn’t any different to any of the other men she’d met who just seemed to see women as sport. And she still hadn’t said anything to them.
“H-hi,” she finally managed. “Nice to meet you.”
“Julia was on her way to her folks’ place,” Liam said, and was Caitlin imagining things again or did his face seem very serious? “She stopped by to say hello.”
“Oh,” Caitlin said, smiling wanly and noticing that Liam stayed wedged to Julia’s side. His body language hadn’t changed at all since Caitl
in had entered the room.
“I couldn’t not stop by and see my bestie,” Julia said and Caitlin frowned as she looked to Liam, only to realize that Julia was squeezing Ingrid’s shoulder. Ingrid was her best friend? Now she really felt like a pawn in someone else’s game.
“Oh—of course,” Caitlin said, feeling more and more like she wanted to disappear and realizing that her voice betrayed that feeling. “I’ll just … I’ll just grab some juice. I’m heading to the beach anyway.”
Caitlin bustled over to the refrigerator and yanked open the door, grabbing the first small juice bottle she could see. She almost slammed the door shut, then spun around and charged toward the French doors that opened out onto the perfect rolling lawn that extended its way to the perfect beach and the perfect sea.
“See ya!” she called over her shoulder, knowing it was rude but her chin was trembling and she needed to leave before they saw that she was upset.
She strode down that perfect lawn, past the perfect lawn furniture and the carefully tended trees and bushes and plants—all of it so perfect yesterday, and now it was a place where she didn’t belong. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Looking down at the juice bottle, Caitlin ditched it on the lawn, her hair streaming behind her as she almost broke into a run. But she had to get away—she didn’t want them to see her reaction to Julia being there. She felt so stupid that she had created so many hopes around Liam when she barely knew him, and even more stupid because it was those disappointed hopes that were making her so upset. Liam had only promised to see her again—nothing more. She was the one who had lain awake for so long, thinking about what would happen when they saw each other in the city; remembering his kiss and how good it had been; hoping for more kisses. A lifetime of kisses. Why did she do that? Why did she turn one good kiss into something it might never be? She wasn’t a silly girl—and she would be mortified if anyone called her a romantic—so how come she did this? And she wasn’t the only one—every girl she knew could parlay a brief romantic encounter into a big wedding and three children before she knew it.
“Argh!” Caitlin yelled at the sky, surprised at the passion in her tone. She was a fool. And she couldn’t even say she was a fool for love, because she knew she wasn’t. She was cautious. She didn’t get involved too easily. And here she was, on a deserted beach, having a tantrum about a boy she barely knew.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she said out loud.
“Are you talking to me?”
Caitlin jumped, shocked to find that there was someone nearby. She hadn’t seen a single soul when she had walked out onto the beach. Not that she’d looked. She’d just focused on getting down onto the sand and putting the house behind her. She hadn’t stopped to think that there were other houses, with other people in them who might, themselves, want to walk on the beach.
So she was even more shocked to realize that she recognized the person who had spoken to her.
“I—no, I’m not,” she said firmly and with more confidence than she felt, given that her heart had started beating faster. “I’m castigating myself. I didn’t even know you were there.”
“Yeah, I know,” said his lovely English voice, with his eyes sparkling and his hair flopping over his forehead. How could it be him, here? “I’m just teasing.”
Why was he frowning at her now?
“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he continued, and Caitlin blushed, suddenly aware of the fact that she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed—because she had. But she remained silent, now tongue tied in the presence of this man she’d been daydreaming about. The prince. And she still wasn’t really sure it was him. How could it be him—here, on this lonely beach?
Shut up, brain, she thought but she still couldn’t say anything. Her mouth seemed to have gone dry.
Now David’s face transformed as a smile appeared. “In the bar,” he said. “In that bar where the photographer found me.”
Caitlin looked startled. “You remember me from that?”
“Yes,” David said, gazing at her frankly. “You’re not very forgettable.”
Caitlin blushed again and half turned away from him.
“Also, you were in the photo that turned up in the paper. So I got another good look at you then.”
He grinned and she only barely glanced back to see it, realizing that he hadn’t at all questioned that she’d remembered him.
“I’m sorry,” said David. “You were here having a moment to yourself before and I interrupted it.”
“Oh …” Caitlin waved a hand, now looking at the ocean. She was shaking—hard—and she didn’t want him to see. He remembered her? She was still stuck on that. “It’s okay. I’m in a public place. Can’t expect privacy.”
“You probably can here. Not many people tend to parade up and down this part of the beach.”
Caitlin felt a hand on her arm, and the jolt that came with it. His touch—it was strong and familiar and warm. And now she was really being ridiculous. She was only this worked up because he was famous. She knew that.
“I’ve upset you,” David said, his grip firming as he guided her to face him. “Truly, I’m sorry. From a distance you just looked like you were gazing at the water. Maybe yelling at it. I …” He grinned. “Well, you were too lovely not to talk to.”
“And I suppose you always get to talk to the people you want to talk to,” she said flatly, aware that she sounded mean. But he’d just reminded her of all those men who thought they were entitled to approach a woman regardless of what she wanted. Except his sense of entitlement was more extreme, because those women no doubt always wanted to be approached by him. And suddenly, now, she didn’t. She didn’t want to be just another woman he hit on because he could. Because of who he was. She didn’t want to be someone he felt entitled to.
Instead of biting back, though, he looked at her with his head tilted to one side, amusement drawing the edges of his mouth up.
“You know, you’re half right,” he said. “I don’t always get to talk to the people I want to, but I usually do. I have to put up with those fellows accompanying me, though.” He nodded toward two casually dressed men who were waiting not far away. His personal protection officers, of course—PPOs, as they were known. She’d read that somewhere. Even on this beach—in this place of privilege where everyone would consider themselves David’s equals, if not his peers—the prince needed protection. “Their presence tends to limit conversations.”
Caitlin realized that David talking to whomever he wanted to might just be the way he garnered a little bit of spontaneity for himself—he could start conversations, even if his protection officers ended them.
Caitlin felt herself relaxing. “I think I was a bit mean to you just then.”
David shrugged. “There are millions of people in my country who are meaner to me than that. I can take it.” He smiled, and to Caitlin it seemed like the brightest smile in the world.
“What are you even doing here?” she said.
“Some friends own a house just up there.” He jerked his chin northward. “I’m here for a few days while the weather’s good. Such a novelty for us Britons, you see—nice weather.” There was that smile again. “And I have the luxury of time at the moment. I don’t have a lot of work on so I can be in the city for a while, then come out here. I’m making the most of it.”
“Isn’t being a prince work?”
David laughed. “Not in and of itself, no. My father has given me leave to enjoy what’s left of my youth, as I’ll have to get to work soon enough. And then it will be for a lifetime.” His forehead creased a little. “But that’s boring. What are you doing here?”
“Pretty much the same deal,” Caitlin said, smiling. “Shall we walk? I want to get away from the house.”
“Sure.” David looked over his shoulder to the PPOs and raised his eyebrows. “Just checking that the lads are watching.”
They walked south and Caitlin was surprised that being foll
owed by two men she didn’t know and walking along the beach with a man she had somewhat idolized felt so … normal. Like she’d done it a thousand times before. She also realized that she’d just given orders to the man who had regularly been proclaimed The Most Handsome Man in the World—or some title like that. And not just that: he was a man who was probably used to giving orders, and she’d just told him to walk along the beach with her. Not that he’d seemed to mind.
“You were telling me why you’re in the Hamptons,” David prompted.
“Oh—yes. I’m here for the weekend. A friend’s house. Actually, a friend’s cousin’s family house. Just back from where we were.”
“I guessed,” David said, looking ahead. “So you come here often?”
“No,” Caitlin said, shaking her head so that her brunette hair streamed out in the light breeze. “First time.”
“And it’s not going so well?”
“It was. Just … There was an unexpected visitor this morning and I wasn’t ready to see anyone.”
David looked at her. “Why would that be?”
“Oh, you know … I look like this—” She gestured to her clothes. “I’m not exactly dressed to meet anyone.”
“You’re dressed to meet me,” he said, his eyes twinkling as his gaze ran quickly up and down the length of her, and Caitlin noticed that there was only appreciation in it, not the appraisal she’d seen in Liam’s eyes when he’d done the same thing, only more slowly. “And I think you look just fine.”
Color rose from Caitlin’s chest to the top of her head and she folded her arms, dropping her chin to her chest.
“Did I embarrass you?” David said, laughing.
“No. I embarrassed myself by not changing before I left my room.”
David roared with laughter, and put a hand out to stop her. “I just realized I don’t even know your name.”
“Caitlin.” She extended her hand, half hoping he’d take it and kiss the back of it. Instead he gripped it firmly and her heart skipped a beat. She loved a firm handshake. She was constantly surprised by how many men didn’t have one.
