by Amy Brent
“There are the Partridge girls,” she said thoughtfully, as if I somehow shared her taste in young women who were sensibly dressed, sensibly behaved, and eminently boring. “Then there’s Mary Lou, Adriana, and, of course, there’s Yvonne.”
Another one of those scalpel gazes and I dropped my own to my mashed potatoes, taking the largest mound my spoon could get.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Please see that you do,” she continued. “Just know that all the girls from the best families are going to be the ones to be scooped up first.”
“I’m counting on it,” Henry said under his breath. I had to bite back an encroaching smile.
“What was that?” she said, her head swiveling in Henry’s direction.
“Mary, why don’t we let the boys enjoy their mashed potatoes,” my father said diplomatically with a grin at my brother and me. “You did a great job on these, Charles.”
“I just can’t see why he wouldn’t let Cook May do it. She always does a most wonderful job.”
“Because he enjoys cooking, my darling,” my father said, smiling.
Only his narrowed eyes betrayed his irritation. Having finished as much of my meal as I was going to, I rose.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said to no one in particular.
Then I hurried to the ivory-filled box that had, time and time again, proven to be my savior.
Over the years, my mother had suffered bouts of digestive ailments of all kinds. Due to this, she was more than reasonable when it came to accepting the excuse of “digestive upset” for why you had spent three hours in the bathroom. And boy had this excuse served Henry and me well. One time, Henry had gone to a club for an hour or two, saw some friends and gotten drunk, and then come back, climbed in through a bathroom window, and told Mother he’d had the most “horrendous of oysters.”
Anyway, right now I had something way more important to do than get nagged by my mother.
“Hey,” Heidi said weakly when she picked up.
I paused.
“You okay?” I asked her. “You sound unwell.”
“I’m okay,” she said, not sounding sure of it herself. “I just had a long workday. This crazy photographer had us there from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. I was napping when you called.”
“Damn,” I said. “Do you want me to call you back later? I was going to invite you to dinner but…”
This pause was thoughtful. “I should be fine.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” I told her. “What do you say we check out something more low-key, like a movie?”
“I’d like that,” she said.
I grinned. She sounded considerably more excited about the prospect of a movie.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Really, if you’re too tired to see me, it’s no trouble.”
“Not at all. A movie sounds fantastic,” she said.
“Great,” I told her. “I’ll send my driver by in an hour to pick you up as usual. He’ll take you to the theater where I’ll meet you.”
“Okay. Great. See you later, alligator.”
About to hang up, I paused. “What?”
Heidi laughed. “Geez, I must be really tired. That was the good-bye I used to say to my dad.”
“And he’d say ‘back in a while, crocodile’?” I asked knowingly.
“You got it,” she said with another little laugh. “I’m kind of surprised a British prince knows the expression, though.”
“As a British prince, I do get out of the house. I haven’t been locked up to a golden column for the last thirty or so years,” I reminded her dryly.
She only giggled in response.
“You never really talk much about your dad,” I said thoughtfully.
A knock sounded on the door.
“I’m in here,” I said irritably.
Could I not even have a conversation in the bathroom for five minutes in peace? It wasn’t like there weren’t thirty other bathrooms in the whole bloody palace.
“That’s true,” Heidi said in a quiet voice. “I guess it’s just because I miss my parents so much. When I talk to them over the phone, it practically hurts. And my dad and I haven’t always gotten along so well. Originally, he wanted me to go to medical school, to become some kind of big doctor, but I was hopeless at science and math. In high school, I made up any excuse to skip them, or I just didn’t go on purpose. It has taken my dad a few years to come around, but in the last two, he’s been my greatest fan.”
“You, a doctor,” I said to myself. I smirked, imagining Heidi’s curvy form trapped in a tight white coat, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, her lips pursed. My dick twitched gleefully at the image.
I shifted irritably. Right now, I was standing in the shower with the bathroom door closed and no water running, talking to said woman on the phone. Yet this was not the time to indulge in some Dr. Heidi fantasy.
Another knock on the door.
“I have to go now,” I told her. “See you later…alligator.”
She laughed.
“In a while, crocodile.”
I hung up, strode over to the bathroom door, and opened it.
Standing there, impassive in the face of my peeved glare, was Henry.
“What?” I asked him.
He shrugged.
“Mother was asking about you, so I told her you had something to tell her. So, she told me to go find you.”
“Thanks for that,” I said, glaring at him and striding in the direction of the garage.
“Where are you going?” he asked from behind me.
“Leaving so you can explain your lie to Mother,” I called back over my shoulder.
I only had an hour to get ready for a date. No way was I going to be sidetracked by one of Henry’s joking ploys to divert attention from himself. Not this time.
--
An hour or so later, Heidi and I arrived at the movie theater at the same time. She was standing just inside the first set of doors, although I had to take a minute or two to ensure it was her. She was dressed in a comfy yet still sexy red velour tracksuit.
“For a minute, I thought some teen girl had somehow sneaked in in your place,” I admitted, sweeping down to give her a kiss on the cheek.
Glancing away, she let out a reflective chuckle. “I guess I should’ve dressed fancier, only everything I put on seemed to be squeezing my body into a headache.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said quickly. “I like it.”
I ran admiring fingertips down the sleeve.
“You haven’t even seen the butt yet,” she said with a cheeky smile.
She turned around so I could see that a rhinestone cat was emblazoned on her butt.
“Liza bought them for me,” she explained as I took her arm and led her through the last set of doors and toward our theater. “A few years back, I think it was, because my favorite Disney movie is The Aristocats.”
“Seriously, The Aristocats?” I asked her.
Still grinning, she nodded. “I know it’s not a common one, but, come on, when I see those cute little kitties, I just about die! I have this big stupid grin on my face every time I watch it.”
I chuckled, reaching down to pat her on the ass.
“I’ll bet.”
“Okay, mister,” she said, turning to shoot me a challenging look. “What’s your favorite Disney movie then?”
My brow quirked.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
We finally reached the cinema, and I opened the door and gestured her through. As I took her arm again, she looked at me expectantly.
“The Lion King.”
“And how was that supposed to be obvious?” she asked.
I laughed. “No idea.”
We settled into a contented silence as we made our way up the empty cinema steps.
“I guess I should’ve figured that you’d book this whole place too,” she said with a little grin.
“You can probably understand that, being a pu
blic figure, almost any regular old errand-running can turn into an autographing spree if you’re particularly unlucky.”
She sat down, and I sat beside her, slinging my arm around her.
“And right now, I happen to be on a date with the girl I’m crazy about, so I don’t want any interruptions.”
She grinned at me from ear to ear. My gaze dipped to her velour pants. This time, my hand stroked her thigh and up a bit higher.
“Your friend, Liza, has good taste.”
“Yep,” Heidi said simply. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied me. “Everything okay with Henry?”
I scowled. “He hasn’t been in touch with your friend, has he?”
“No,” she admitted. “But don’t say anything, please? The last thing Liza would want is Henry to know she’s been upset.”
I nodded, my lips compressing together.
“That’s my brother for you. He doesn’t really think of anyone except…” I trailed off.
Just then, a memory flashed in my mind. It was an image of me and another model, an English one, in this very same theater, although down in the front row (she had insisted). After I’d broken things off with her, she’d gone on to send me several crying voice mails. We had spent a few weeks together, but I’d formerly thought she’d understood, that we were on the same page. Was I really that much better or kinder than my brother?
“Charles?”
I followed Heidi’s gaze to a movie attendant who was on the carpeted steps, headed our way. The middle-aged woman had an extra-large bag of popcorn in hand and a beaming smile on her face.
“I’m both of your greatest fan,” she said a few seconds later when she reached us.
As if remembering herself, she sealed her lips and smacked a hand to her heart.
“But, I signed the contract, and I won’t be telling a single soul about you being here together or even seeing either of you. On my heart, I won’t.”
Heidi and I smiled appreciatively as she handed over the popcorn.
“It’s fine,” Heidi said. “Thank you”—her gaze dipped to the woman’s name tag—“Stephanie.”
With her little bow lips still sealed shut awkwardly, Stephanie bumbled off down the stairs.
Glancing out of the corner of my eye back at Heidi, I said, “Figured that, since you were beat from work today, it was better if food was brought to us. Popcorn was a safe choice, but if you’d rather something else, I could just call her back and—”
Her lithe fingers slipped through mine. “It’s perfect. Thanks.” A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “Although, I don’t know if I have the energy to feed myself…”
Her drift was obvious. My fingers closed around one particularly puffy kernel and conveyed it to her lips. Slowly, she closed them around it.
My dick stiffened and she giggled. I had to remind myself Heidi was tired and we were watching a movie. It wasn’t time for that.
Only a minute or so later, the previews started rolling. A few movies appeared promising, but I hardly paid attention to them.
Beside me, Heidi’s head gradually sank into my arm more and more. There was a weird constriction in my chest.
Eating more didn’t help. Evidently, this feeling had nothing to do with my stomach. Seemed like my heart was pressing against the walls of my chest.
The movie came and went, a pleasant distraction. It was some new action flick that reminded me of an old Mission Impossible.
At the end, I was all ready to get up and leave, but Heidi took her time. A glance over found her even more worn out than before the movie.
“You good?” I asked her.
She gave a noncommittal headshake and rose a bit before collapsing back on the seat.
“Mind if we wait here for another few minutes?”
“Of course not,” I said, my arm around her, giving her a supportive pat. “Take all the time you need.”
“But later tonight,” she said in a small voice, “the plan was probably for us to go back to your place, right?”
A pause allowed me to weigh the situation. Clearly, Heidi was too tired to even properly walk out of the cinema, let alone go all the way to a whole other house and have sex with me. And yet, what was the alternative—us parting already?
I frowned. Maybe it didn’t have to be.
“We could just hang out here for a bit,” I suggested. “I don’t mind having a laid-back night with you.”
The brilliant smile that blossomed on her face was one of the most beautiful I’d seen yet. It was another side of Heidi, completely unrestrained.
“I’d like that too.”
Regardless, I expected our conversation-only sit to last about fifteen minutes, tops. As it turned out, when I thought to check my phone, two hours had passed.
When I showed it to her, she bit her lip.
“I guess time flies when you’re talking to a handsome prince.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe time flies when you’re talking to a hot model you like.”
Her smile crinkled her eyes into delighted half-moons. As she attempted to rise, her breathing intensified with the effort.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, sweeping her up in my arms.
“Charles!” she squealed, although she didn’t struggle.
As I carried her down the cinema steps, I continued. “Would you prefer if I dropped you?”
I adjusted my grip and she clung to me, giggling out protests. Like this, tucked securely in my arms, I carried her all the way out of the cinema, through the double set of glass front doors. Finally, at her insistence, I placed her on her feet on the sidewalk.
Before I let her go fully, I whispered in her delicate shell of an ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll never let you fall.”
Her full eyes met mine. The only thing to do now was kiss her.
This lip-lock was a new breed entirely. It ran in ripples up and down me, coating every part of me with desire and longing. And yet, as I drew away, I knew I had to let Heidi go.
For tonight. Because she was tired. Because I cared about her. And right now, for whatever reason, that meant something.
A honk separated us. It was my driver, the ever impatient Mario. He was here for Heidi. My car was coming in another minute or so.
“Good-bye, Charles.”
As Heidi said it, the trace of a smile was still on her lips.
“Good-bye, Heidi,” I said softly, willing myself to stay in place.
I knew as well as she did that a good-bye kiss would turn into a hello kiss, and right now, I had to let her go.
So I did. I let her walk away. My car arrived shortly, and I left in it. That was it.
Chapter 18
Heidi
How had it been two months already?
In my over-pillowed bed, I shifted onto my back and stared my question into the crack in the center of the ceiling, as if it might somehow have an idea. As far as I was concerned, the long span of time seemed incredible given how quickly it had passed. I, Heidi Sommers, had been dating British royalty for a whole two months.
Not to mention I was still as crazy about him as I was when I’d first met him. Charles was as sweet and sexy as any girl could dream of her boyfriend being. Unfortunately, there was the catch that he was royalty and I was going back home in a month.
Rolling over to my side, I pushed the disheartening thought aside. No point in dwelling on the negative and letting it ruin my morning. Dating Charles had been incredible so far. On the last date, he’d actually shut down a whole carnival so we could have fun on all the rides. It made me realize I did like carnivals; I just hated the lines. That night, soaring around the swings as the gay carnival tunes serenaded us, I realized that. It seemed I’d realized a lot of things lately.
Charles wasn’t at all what people thought. He was a lot more daring than his public image portrayed. On one of our dates, we’d gone skydiving.
Sure, it hadn’t been completely easy sailing these past few months, but I wo
uld have things decided soon.
A dark cloud appeared over my sunny thoughts. When was I going to tell Charles about it? I had thought giving myself some time, thinking about it, would help. But one day had stretched into one week, and now I was more unsure about what to do than ever. Obviously, I had to tell him, but how?
Liza creaking open my door knocked me out of my thoughts.
For a second, she just stood there. Her blue eyes were furtive.
“You okay?”
I exhaled in relief. At least Liza knew. Ironic, how the tables were now turned. Liza knew more about Charles and me than Charles himself did.
My nod eased the tension on her face.
“So you saw it.”
“Saw what?” I asked.
In the seconds that followed, I came to realize nothing was okay.
As Liza took a step forward, her whole body rocked backward, as if it were physically fighting against her coming in here to tell me what she had to.
When she reached the edge of my bed, she sat down, still without looking at me.
“I would tell you to sit down…” Her strained voice trailed off.
Okay, this was really freaking me out. I was a model pregnant with a prince’s child, for God’s sake.
The pregnancy test I’d bought and sobbed over several days ago had been testament enough to that. What could be worse than that?
Straining up in bed, I point blank said, “Liza, tell me.”
Wordlessly, she got out her phone and handed it to me. In this case, a picture was worth one thousand words, even more. More like ten thousand or even one hundred thousand.
As I took in the impossible picture on the screen before me, my mind couldn’t settle on a thought, let alone a feeling.
All that came out of my lips was a low croak, half pleading, half begging, and definitely freaking the fuck out. My shaking hands clasped her phone, almost dropping it but catching it at the last minute.
There on the screen was me, Heidi Sommers. The picture was from an article on a tabloid site, Dailymail.com, but that was nothing new. What was new was the headline and what I was doing in the picture: Sommers buys pregnancy tests. Who’s the father? And the photo, sure enough, showed me with a stupidly translucent plastic bag containing the telltale pink cardboard box of a pregnancy test.
