The Reluctant Prince

by Candice Gilmer

“That would bug me. Not like I would let anyone in while I was showering…”

  On the wall outside the bathroom a beautiful eight by ten foil portrait of Nefertiti hung. Framed in a wide gold border and ten by thirteen frame, it was a magnificent picture of the Egyptian queen.

  I reached up and touched the frame, and smirked because it was bolted to the wall. Not that I’d take a picture from a hotel room, but I wouldn’t have minded looking at the back to see if there were any hints to where I could get my own copy.

  Oh well.

  Nefertiti’s eyes seemed to dance in the portrait. Maybe it was the foil. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe she thought it funny I wanted to take her home. She’d always been my favorite Egyptian queen.

  Who needed Cleopatra? Nefertiti changed an entire culture’s belief system. If only for a while.

  That’s talent, right there.

  If Nefertiti was watching over my stay, this was certainly going to be a good trip.

  My stomach started to growl, and I decided to head downstairs and see what kind of food I could find.

  And maybe some trouble. God knows I needed some.

  Chapter Three

  The buffet I found wasn’t impressive, but it was food in my stomach. I had read in my paperwork from the conference announcing a social tonight, but I didn’t feel like hiking all the way over to the Mandalay Bay. While the route was underground between the hotels, it was still roughly a mile to walk. I wasn’t feeling the love.

  So I started to peruse the hotel, and stumbled on the Giza Bizarre, a large shopping area in the hotel. Though I wasn’t a big shopper, I did love to browse—knick-knacks, jewelry and statues of Egyptian busts, all kinds of interesting things.

  In one store, I snagged a couple of shot glasses and picked up a small snow globe for my mother-in-law and set it on the shop counter.

  Wait.

  I glanced down at the snow globe.

  I didn’t have a mother-in-law anymore. She didn’t care for me when I was married to her son, why in the world would I buy her a knick-knack now?

  “I don’t need this,” I said, handing it to the clerk. The lady nodded and put it back behind her on a shelf resembling a graveyard of unclaimed knick-knacks.

  As I left, I wondered what had possessed me. I’d spent every moment with Jim trying to get his mom to like me, but if I painted a wall in the house, it was too dark or too light. If I cooked something, it wasn’t flavored right. If I rearranged the furniture, it was suddenly awkward and hard to move around in, even if I only moved it a few inches.

  But if Jim did it…

  Oh, everything was perfect. Even if he burnt food, it was “just how she liked it.”

  Old bitch.

  I left, adjusting my backpack-purse that was far too heavy. I should have pulled my books out before I left the room. I took my silver and gold bag of shot glasses and headed through the other shops, going in and out, including a store with children’s and infant’s clothes.

  A little black onesie had the Luxor logo on it, with the pyramids in the background. Not that I had a child to give it to. Jim and I attempted to conceive, but evidently Fate had other ideas, because we tried for the entire course of our marriage and nothing. With no medical reason why I couldn’t get pregnant.

  Yet another thing wrong with me, in his mother’s eyes. His mother couldn’t stand me when I married her son. My mother couldn’t stand me when I divorced him.

  Evidently, I’m not supposed to be around mothers.

  I plopped down at a fountain with a large sculpture of the Sphinx overlooking the water. Quite a few pennies had been dropped into the pool of water, where people had made wishes. It resembled a strange painting on the bottom.

  Digging in my jean pocket, I pulled out a penny.

  But I didn’t know what to wish for.

  Money? Who couldn’t use a little more filling the pockets?

  Happiness? To be able to genuinely smile? That would be awesome. I’d been using my fake smile for so long, it seemed like the only one I knew how to use anymore.

  A chance at love again? I’d been wondering about that since filing the divorce. Had Jim been my only shot, and now I was done? Never to find love again? I hoped not, but with my luck it probably was.

  Not like I wanted to jump into a new relationship, but to find one eventually, that would be nice. I’d hate to think Jim was my only chance.

  I squeezed the penny tighter in my hand and went for the girly wish.

  I wished for another chance at love. I raised my hand, ready to toss the penny in, when I felt someone grab my wrist.

  “Did you ask Ra?” a male voice asked.

  I jerked back, my elbow slamming the guy right in the solar plexus. “What the…?”

  “Sorry,” the man jerked backwards, doubling over and coughing a bit.

  “What the Hell was that?” I spun around, furious and ready to rip this guy to shreds, my fist drawn back, ready to punch.

  And then I got a good look at him.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered and had the most amazing amber gold eyes I had ever seen. He stared back at me with the strangest look on his face—partial relief, partial furiousness. And how the two emotions could be played on his face in the same moment, I didn’t know, but they were there. His black-brown hair hung parted in the center and touched his shoulders, soft waves smoothed back, looking too casual to be actually fixed.

  I had to make myself close my mouth.

  “I deserved that,” he muttered, forcing a smile on his face. “I shouldn’t have grabbed your arm. I’m sorry.” His voice had a rich tone to it, American, but not. Like he wasn’t a native, but had lived here long enough to adopt an American sound.

  The voice swirled around me like it was tangible, making my insides tingle all the way down to my toes.

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” Pumped on adrenalin, I was rather pleased with myself for not yelling or screaming, or heck, swooning as I looked at him.

  “Still, if you want your wish to come true, you have to ask Ra.” The corner of his mouth tipped up in a quirky grin, arrogant and ornery, like he knew something I didn’t.

  That made me feel funky.

  “Ra?”

  “You know, the Egyptian sun god.” He flashed those blinding teeth at me as he sat.

  “Uh, yeah, I know who Ra is.” I scooted back a bit on the bench, a little further out of his grasp.

  “You ask Ra, and he’ll grant your wish.” He didn’t get any closer, leaving enough space in between us so I could bolt without too much trouble.

  ’Course, all he’d have to do was lean…

  As he sat there next to me, I wasn’t sure what I thought—he was tall, but he wasn’t overly huge, like a body builder or something. My eyes couldn’t help wandering down to his stomach—no gut hung out, and I couldn’t help for a second wondering if his tummy was as rock hard as it looked under his shirt.

  Stop it.

  I don’t know who he is… He could be some kind of nut.

  “Uh, okay. I ask Ra to grant my wish.” I closed my eyes, thinking my wish as fast as I could. May I be given another chance at love. I tossed the penny in the fountain, watching it sink into the clear pool, and wondered what in the world possessed me to listen to this guy.

  “See there, that wasn’t so bad. Name’s Hadrian.” He held out his hand to shake.

  “Sydney.” I held my hand out, meeting his firm handshake. Damn. I didn’t like knowing he had a firm shake. Brought him up a notch in my book.

  A spark started at our joined hands, and shot down through my body like a current had been completed.

  I didn’t want to let go, the sensation so powerful between us, and I looked into his eyes. Whatever it was I was feeling, he was feeling it too.

  We held hands a bit longer than necessary for a shake, our fingers dancing around each other, the pads like explorers, feeling every little groove, each little line, like making an imprint.

  “Nice to meet you, Syd
ney.” He finally released my hand and the spark was gone. And I had a flash of sadness. “First time at the Luxor?” He looked away from me, around the shopping area.

  I didn’t like him not looking at me. I needed eye contact with him.

  Which was totally weird, but it was how I felt. I never responded so viscerally to a male. “Uh, well, uh, yeah.”

  “Well, if I may, I’ll show you around.”

  “Uh, really, that’s okay. Yeah. I think I’ll be going now.” I had to get away from him. He was bringing up responses in me I knew I shouldn’t be having for someone I just met.

  He could be married. Gay. Involved. A woman-beater. A psycho. This wasn’t sane.

  Yet when I told my brain to shut down, I had a pretty good feeling he wasn’t any of those things.

  Though whether it was the hormones, who were screaming for me to jump him right here, or if it was my other instincts, I didn’t know.

  I felt a strange need to be near him.

  And I really didn’t like that idea at all.

  I picked up my bag and he looked a bit disappointed—shoulders slumped, his feet shifting back and forth like he couldn’t decide which way he wanted them.

  “Do you work here?” I asked before my brain caught up with my mouth.

  What is wrong with me? I could have gotten away.

  Run away and hide.

  And something occurred to me. Running away and hiding, that’s what I always did when dealing with Jim.

  And what good did it ever do me? He’d chase me down.

  And maybe all this was with this Hadrian guy was years of pent up sexual frustration and desire bursting through the surface. I wasn’t married anymore. I shouldn’t run away from it.

  This was a quasi-vacation, after all.

  Screw it.

  Rather, let’s screw him…

  His eyes were warm with mirth. “No, I just come here a lot.” The killer smile remained on his face, and that whole deer in headlights thing came over me.

  My mind thought I should run, fly away as fast as I could—stay away from such wild sensations, but I fought it and made myself remain rooted in the spot.

  Even though my rational brain started nagging that he was a regular at the Luxor.

  Great, he’s a gambler. Just what I needed. I looked up at the ceiling. Nice one, Ra. Thanks. For the briefest of seconds, the painting on the ceiling seemed to wink at me, making fun. If I hadn’t been a mature lady of twenty-nine, I would have stuck my tongue out at it.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Adr…”

  “Hadrian with an H.”

  “Sorry, Hadrian.” Hadrian, a nice name. Kind of rolls off the tongue in a rather sexy way…

  I licked my lips, imagining saying the name in the heat of passion.

  I shook my head, trying to dislodge the rampant, random thoughts.

  Hadrian watched me, a crease in his brow, like he was trying to figure out what was going on in my brain.

  Lord knows I didn’t want that to happen, so I painted on a nice fake smile. I was so good at those.

  “Well, if you don’t want a tour, are you sure I can’t buy you a drink? That’s the least I can do for scaring the wits out of you.” He leaned a little closer to me, but for some reason, I wasn’t as afraid as I should have been. I stayed where I was instead of backing away.

  As I considered his proposition, I glanced around, realizing other people were staring and pointing in our direction. I didn’t like it, it gave me a weird vibe, and a shiver ran down my back.

  They probably were wondering what a good-looking guy like him was doing talking to a blue-haired gal like me. I hadn’t even bothered to touch up my makeup before heading down to explore the hotel. So I probably had black eye makeup in places that it had no right to be.

  But if it were bad, would this incredibly handsome guy be offering to buy me a drink? Probably not.

  Unless he had some weird fetish.

  I probably looked like I was into the weird fetishes, what with my black eye makeup, ear metal, and freshly dyed neon blue hair.

  “Oh, uh, well, sure, if you want.” As I spoke, I realized I was stammering again. A horrid habit, I stammered around good-looking guys. Ugh, will I never get a break?

  I wadded up the small sack from the shop and stuffed it into my purse. I hoped this guy wasn’t turned off. I really did know how to put together a coherent sentence.

  “Come on, there’s a bar down the way.” He held out his arm, and I slipped my arm through his. The gesture surprised me, but hey, when in Vegas, right?

  Hadrian hadn’t wanted to bother the gal by the fountain. He really didn’t. He’d only been at the hotel an hour or so, roaming around, letting himself get lost in the ambiance.

  But there she was. Hints of dimples lingered in her cheeks, though she wasn’t using the great smile she had to have.

  It wasn’t the hair. God knows he couldn’t stand the fad about dying hair all sorts of unnatural colors.

  She was real. Even from a distance, he knew she wouldn’t bullshit him. She didn’t care about agendas and duties and rules and regulations. This woman wasn’t going to bind him to the little box his birthright, or his show, for that matter, pinned him in.

  Before he could stop himself, he was walking across the floors, heading straight for the blue hair and eyes that would probably tell him to go screw himself if he didn’t handle the intro right.

  He tried to talk himself out of approaching her. He really did. He thought of a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t bother her, because as stunning as she was, she wore a sense of sadness, and really, did he want to be drawn into extra drama?

  Before he realized it, he reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her from throwing her coin.

  She hit him in the gut.

  In that moment, his face went pale, his stomach did cartwheels and he thought he might throw up.

  Oh Hell.

  Were his dad alive, he would have called him immediately to start yelling at him. Because this wasn’t what he expected. He’d always said it was a kick in the gut. He never expected it to be literally a punch in the gut.

  Surely this wasn’t what his dad meant, right?

  She stammered with every sentence. Which should have drove him crazy, but it didn’t. He thought it was cute.

  Such a bad sign…

  They sat in the bar, and she ordered, of all things, a glass of iced tea. Not a Long Island Iced Tea, but a real, plain, iced tea. Her lemon balanced in the spoon they gave her, next to the packets of sweetener she never touched.

  And he couldn’t help noticing she didn’t stammer at the waitress.

  Interesting. Maybe she knew who he was. Though she didn’t look like the type to watch a lot of cooking shows. She managed to put together more than one sentence without stammering since they sat down. But it was mostly when she didn’t look at him directly.

  She seemed to be checking over her shoulder as much as he was.

  Odd.

  He sipped on his second Bud Light, noticing she hadn’t finished her tea.

  She had relaxed a bit when she found out she could smoke in the bar, especially when he pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

  “Yeah, well,” she said, taking another sip of the tea. “I know you probably could care less about my hair conference. So what about you? Why are you here in the City of Lights?”

  “Vacation,” he said as he pulled a cigarette from his pack.

  She admired his Zippo as he lit it. “Vacation, eh?”

  “Seemed like time for one.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a cook on a television show.” He’d debated with an out and out lie, and the truth. But what stopped him was her absolute honesty.

  “Oh really?” she said, a grin spreading across her face. “Which show?”

  “The Pasta Prince.” He tensed, wondering if now she’d recognize him, if now she’d become a bubbling fan, profess her love for the show, and all that jazz.r />
  She took another sip of her tea. “Hmm, is that on the, uh food station?”

  “Do you watch?”

  “No. I don’t watch a lot of television.”

  “How’d you know where it was on?”

  “Oh, my girlfriend Bella loves the show. I’ve taped it for her occasionally when she’s had to work.” She shrugged her shoulder as she spoke, not looking at him.

  “I’ll have to give you an autograph for your friend.”

  This time she did look at him, and her eyes lit up. “Would you? She would go crazy over that.”

  The sight made his heart slam in his chest. “I would be happy to. Got some paper?”

  She grabbed her huge backpack-purse. “I think I do.” She started pulling stuff out of it—the bag from one of the stores she’d been in, and then the books…

  In a flash, she’d stacked eight books on the small table.

  “Read much?” he asked.

  Sydney jerked, spilling the stack on the floor. “Crap,” she muttered. He leaned over, helping her gather the books. And he couldn’t believe the collection of books…

  A couple of literary novels, a sci-fi novel, Star Trek to be exact, two mystery/suspense novels, all best sellers, and he snagged another one. When he turned it over, he jerked. The cover had a naked male’s back holding a broadsword. Hadrian held it by his fingertips.

  “Oh knock it off,” she muttered, snagging it out of his hands.

  “You actually read that stuff?” He gestured to the cover with the guy on it.

  “I’m a girl. Of course I do. Every girl needs a hero and romance in her life once in a while.” She stacked the books again, more carefully this time. He noticed the romance novel wasn’t the only one in the stack. She actually had several, all with fairly naked male bodies on the cover.

  He shook his head. “You have eclectic tastes.”

  She shrugged. “I never know what I feel like.” She continued digging in her purse. “Do you read?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I’m actually a big reader.”

  “And what do you read?”

  He glanced at her romance titles. “Guy stuff.”

  “Guy stuff? Like repair manuals and how to build a skyscraper with toothpicks type books?”