by M. S. Parker
The crowd was thick enough that I successfully evaded him, although it helped that the server caught up with him to pay the rest of the bill. By the time he’d settled, I was on the street and moving at a fast clip.
I figured I was free of him.
But that was what happened when one assumed.
“Hey, Regan! Hold up…”
I tensed as he caught my arm and pulled me to a stop. At the same time, he moved in on me, doing it in a way that had me backing up without me giving it any conscious thought. Now, we were out of the main flow of traffic and tucked into the doorway of a shop that had already closed. Pulling my arm free, I gave him a cool look. “Do you mind?”
“Easy…” He gave me a charming smile and held up his hands. “I think we had a misunderstanding there.”
“Did we.”
He mistook my tone, thinking I’d asked a question instead of making a statement.
“We did.” With that same charming, disarming smile, he moved in a little closer. “Look, I didn’t mean any offense. It’s not like I’m expecting you to go pushing my project on all your friends and associates…I just thought if things went well between us…” He paused, giving me what I assumed was supposed to be an appreciative look.
Was this his approach to seduction?
Indy and I really needed to have a talk.
This was the fifth guy I’d had dinner with—at his advice—and so far, Peter was the worst of the bunch. Two had been nice enough, but not my type. One was still hung up on his ex. Another had been clearly more passionate about his thesis, a topic that I still couldn’t wrap my mind around. The first one had shown some promise, but then he mentioned he was leaving at the beginning of the year—something to do with Doctors Without Borders.
He actually would have been ideal, but I wasn’t expecting this baby-making thing to happen the first night we had sex, so I kind of wanted somebody who’d be around for a while.
But Pete…Peter. Wow. He was the douche to end them all.
He eased in a little closer and ducked his head. “You know, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, Regan. I thought so the first time I saw you.”
“The first time.” Going stiff, I eased farther back, eying him warily. “As in an hour ago?”
“Well, no.” He chuckled, and the sound of it made my skin crawl. “I saw you when you were still doing some modeling. You were one of the models for a show during Couture Week.”
“I see. What’s this project of yours, Peter?”
A winsome smile spread across his face. “It’s a new approach to app dating, pairing up-and-coming models and actresses with prospective businessmen in a position to help boost their standing in the community.”
My gut crawled. “So…sugar daddies.”
“What?” His smile faded. “No. It’s a mutually beneficial system—”
“Yeah, sure. I’ve heard enough. Excuse me.” Just how did this guy get past Indy’s scumbag radar? I had no idea, but I’d be sure to enlighten my best friend as soon as I got home. Going to cut around him, I said, “Pardon me if I don’t wish you luck on your endeavor—”
“Wait a damn minute,” Peter said, grabbing my arm again, but this time, his fingers bit into my arm with determined cruelty. “I’m not done.”
“Yes, you are.”
Both of us whipped our heads around at the sound of that voice, cool, clipped and touched with an accent I placed as German. At least, I thought it was German.
As I gaped at the tall man, Peter’s hand fell from my arm. The setting sun shown in around the newcomer, highlighting his form as if he was an angel, dropped down from the heavens just that second. He was tall and lean, but with impressively broad shoulders, and pale, white blond hair cut close on the sides, but long enough on top for the strands to curl. He had a jawline that was sheer perfection and put me in the mind of Chris Evans—very, very few men had a jawline that could match up to Captain America’s, but this guy was damn close. Maybe even a tie.
“You weren’t invited into this conversation, friend,” Peter said, a sharp smile on his lean face. “Why don’t you move along?”
He reached out to shove the man for emphasis.
The blond moved with such calm efficiency—and speed—that I all but had to pick my jaw up off the floor, struggling to figure out just what it was he’d done.
Peter had gone to push him. The man had moved, reaching up to grab Peter’s hand, jerking him forward.
But the movements blurred together, and in seconds, Peter was on the ground, gaping at the man towering over us. He lurched up, but another man intercepted him and drove a fist into his gut, causing Peter to bend over, a harsh breath expelling from him.
The second man was even taller than the first, moving with lethal efficiency, catching Peter by the back of the head, fist in his hair and jerking him upright. I didn’t hear the words exchanged, but once he let go, Peter, white-faced, turned and all but ran down the street.
I looked from one to the other, finally focusing on the man who’d stepped up to intervene.
“Um. Hi. Thanks. Wow.”
He gave me a polite half-bow that struck me as incredibly Old World, insanely formal…and sweet. That sounded strange, but I couldn’t think of another way to describe it. It was sweet.
“It was no trouble.”
I darted a look down the sidewalk. I couldn’t even see Peter now. “Well, he would have had a lot of fun causing me trouble, so I beg to differ. Thank you. So much.” I darted a look between him and his companion, then, taking a stab in the dark, I asked, “Are you two from out of town?”
“You could say that,” his companion said under his breath.
The man with the pale blond hair gave him a dark look, then focused on me. “Yes. We’re…playing tourist right now, but I’m in the country for business.”
“Okay. You’re from Germany?”
He angled his head to the side. “You have an ear for accents.”
“I’m an actress. I have an ear for everything.” Heat fluttered in my belly, so strange and unexpected, it took me a few moments to place it. Attraction. How long had it been since I’d been attracted to a guy?
Aaron, I realized. The last guy I’d had any real interest in had been Aaron, a bartender who worked at the restaurant around the corner from the theater where I usually performed. I’d meet up with him after a show, and we’d flirt and talk while I’d drink, and sometimes, we’d go back to his place and tear up the sheets.
Then he got word his mother was sick, and he’d gone back home. While he was there, he’d seen his old high school sweetheart, and they’d reconnected. Last I heard, they were expecting their second child.
So…years. It had been years.
As blood rushed to my cheeks, I reached for some shred of composure. “Look, I really appreciate the assist there…is there anything I can do to thank you? Looking for directions?” I offered a weak smile. “Maybe advice on the best play on Broadway?”
A cop, one of NYPD’s finest, approached before the man in front of me could answer.
His companion touched his shoulder and murmured something in low, rapid-fire German. The blond looked only slightly interested in whatever his friend had to say, his eyes never leaving my face.
I tensed, ready to intervene, but the man pulled a wallet from inside his coat and moved to greet the cop, hand outstretched.
“Don’t worry. Isaak has it handled,” the man said, smiling at me. “As to thanking me…I can think of…No. Never mind.”
The abrupt way he ended the sentence and shook his head puzzled me. Cocking my head, I eyed him. “You can think of what?”
He looked a little self-conscious, then glanced over his shoulder where his friend—Isaak—stood talking to the cop.
“Would you consider a kiss a proper thank you?” he asked, his voice odd. Almost wistful.
My mouth went dry, throat constricting.
Considering what had been taking place when he showed up,
I should have told him off, called him a creepazoid asshole.
But…I couldn’t. The wistful tone, the look in his eyes…and…whoa…the way he looked. The way my heart raced just standing so close to him.
Without giving myself a chance to think about it, I moved in closer and reached up to touch his cheek.
“Seems to me you played the knight in shining armor,” I said, striving for a teasing note. I think I did a decent job. “Didn’t the maiden fair usually repay the knight with a token…or a kiss?”
I rose onto my toes and pressed my mouth to his.
It was a quick kiss, barely long enough to get a real taste of him, but even that was too much.
He was intoxicating.
Drawing in a sharp breath, I pulled back and gave him a quick smile. “Thanks again.”
Before I could lose another piece of myself to this insanity, I cut around him to go.
“Wait.”
Seven
Bastian
New York City was a kaleidoscope of color and sound.
That stuck out in my mind. I had only been in town for a day but already had my retinas imprinted with the reds and green of Christmas, the blues of Hanukkah, and likely colors of other religious traditions that I was unfamiliar with.
The cultural pool of Liechtenstein was admittedly small, a mostly Catholic country, but I had learned of other holidays observed by the major religions. It had been some time since I’d attended those classes, and I was rusty, to say the least. I had no idea what subtleties I was missing in the various colors and elegant displays around the big city—a city of immigrants, as New York was often hailed.
That was part of the reason Isaak was with me.
A distant cousin but close friend of mine, we grew up together, and in areas where I’d merely been adequate, he’d excelled, outperforming even Marcel. He’d gone on to a career in the National Police, but an injury had forced him out of the field.
If I froze, Isaak would be there to assist me. If I couldn’t remember some important detail or name, he would.
And if there was trouble, as sometimes there was in a city like New York, Isaak, again, was there to assist.
“We should leave, Your Highness,” Isaak said, leaning in to speak directly into my ear after I finished off my third whiskey.
I’d left our hotel—the Chatwal—a good two hours earlier and headed toward the Theater District. Not that I had any interest in seeing a play. But there were any number of bars between the hotel and Times Square, and those interested me.
I’d needed a drink to relax from the stress of the day. I’d been to four meetings, had lunch with a senator from New York, which might have been enjoyable except a reporter spied us and kept demanding to know if I was the senator’s lover.
A drink—or three—would help ease those ragged nerves so I could hopefully sleep.
I’d bypassed the first half dozen simply for how they looked. I wasn’t interested in any place that might have one of the foreign dignitaries I was supposed to meet, or any of the half-dozen business execs who filled my calendar over the coming week.
I wanted anonymity and an environment that might provide a distraction from all the noise in my head. A distraction from my impending engagement to Franziska.
I’d picked a place at random and walked in, going straight to the bar with Isaak at my back until I finally convinced him to sit down.
“Sir—”
I gave him a look. “All right, enough.” Sighing, I fished some money from my pocket. Marcel had rarely carried any cash with him, but I hadn’t gotten into that habit yet. The server, a slim, cute woman with smooth, dark skin and a bright, sunny smile, appeared and said she’d get my ticket. “No need,” I told her, slipping into English easily although it had been years since I’d lived in America. “You may keep the change.”
Her eyes widened as she looked down, and I turned away, nudging Isaak toward the door.
He scowled at me, not liking the breach in protocol.
“Just walk, idiot,” I said, glad he was my cousin and wouldn’t be offended.
“It’s a bitch that you’re now the Hereditary Prince, and I can’t respond to jibes like that the way I’d like to…sir,” he said softly, finally responding to my none-to-subtle nudges and moving through the crowd as I followed at his back.
The sir was a sign of the close relationship we shared. None of my other security staff would be so informal, no matter how hard I insisted. But Isaak understood how much I hated the attention, and when in situations like this, he indulged me.
“Be nice,” I said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Otherwise, I’ll tell your mother you’ve been derelict in your duties, cousin.”
“Funny.” He shot me a look, then let his eyes skim casually around the room.
Absently, I did the same, although not for the same reason.
If I hadn’t looked at that moment, I might have missed her.
A tall, statuesque woman with deep, dark red hair that spilled halfway down her back and the kind of figure that put me in the mind of Renaissance artists like Botticelli or Raphael, or perhaps Diego Velasquez of Spain. He hadn’t been born until well over a century after the deaths of the others, but they’d all clearly shared a love of the female form, one I could well understand.
The woman striding to the door looked like she’d be at home reclining on a bed and gazing at her own image, or perhaps rising from the ocean deep with only her hair to protect her modesty.
She glanced over her shoulder, and I tensed, wondering if she’d look at me.
A faint smirk appeared, then faded as she looked behind her. I looked to see what had caught her attention and saw a man glaring at a server, gesturing avidly. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, all but throwing some bills into her face.
Then he cut around the server and hurried toward the door.
He was going after Venus.
I moved quicker, cutting through the maze of bodies and tables, but it still took longer than I liked, getting to the front door, then having to work my way through a long line of bodies, all of who had apparently appeared from nowhere.
By the time I emerged from the hoard, both my Venus and the man were gone. Frustrated, I turned my head, searching for them.
It was a movement from the man that clued me into where they were, his expansive movements and the aggressive way he glared at whoever was in front of him. I couldn’t see her, not with where they stood. Whoever he spoke with stood in the recessed doorway of a shop, but I already knew who it was.
“Who are you looking for?” Isaak asked.
“Come on,” I said, not answering as I started down the street in the man’s direction.
We were still ten feet away when Isaak figured out what I was up to, and he groaned. “You’re supposed to behave and keep a low profile.”
“Helping a woman having trouble is behaving,” I said, waving him off.
I could hear the man now, his voice raised, belligerent.
Venus appeared around him, her face set in disdainful lines.
“Wait a damn minute. I’m not done,” the man said, reaching out to grab her arm.
Her face tightened, making it clear he had used far more force than needed in that touch.
“Yes, you are.” Stepping forward, I placed myself in his direct line of sight.
The man’s hand fell from her arm as he focused on me.
“You weren’t invited into this conversation, friend.” He looked me up and down dismissively, then reached out to shove me. “Why don’t you move along?”
I sensed Isaak moving, but didn’t bother to wait for him. Grabbing the man’s wrist, I twisted and wrenched upward, twisting at the same time. I spun, still holding onto him, then let go, sending him to the ground. He came up swinging.
I stepped back, letting Isaak take over so I could focus on Venus…well, the woman.
She was staring at me with a slightly dazed look on her face
.
Up close, I decided that Venus was even more stunning than I’d realized. Her heart-shaped face was dominated by wide-set gray eyes and a cupid’s bow mouth that gave me devilish thoughts, the kind I hadn’t entertained in over a year.
“Um. Hi. Thanks. Wow.”
“It was no trouble.” I bent forward slightly from the waist out of habit.
She glanced past me, clearly looking for the man who had been troubling her. “Well, he would have had a lot of fun causing me trouble, so I beg to differ. Thank you. So much. Are you two from out of town?”
“You could say that,” Isaak muttered.
I glared at him. Be quiet, I thought. An amused smirk appeared on his face, and I looked away before I could give in to the frustration. Focusing on Venus, I summoned up a smile. “Yes. We’re…playing the tourist right now, but I’m in the country for business.”
“Okay. You’re from Germany?”
“You have an ear for accents.”
“I’m an actress. I have an ear for everything.”
The smile that bowed her lips up made me want to bend down and kiss her. How long had it been since I’d really wanted to kiss a woman?
A long while. Too long.
A blush flooded her cheeks, and I realized I was staring. Clearing my throat, I busied myself with adjusting my coat and smoothing my already pristine shirt down.
“Look, I really appreciate the assist there…is there anything I can do to thank you? Looking for directions? Maybe advice on the best play on Broadway?”
Before I could respond, a man in a blue uniform approached. Isaak grumbled, then said in low, rapid German, “I’ll have to deal with this.”
I nodded, although my attention was still on her.
She looked concerned, following my cousin and the cop with her gaze.
“Don’t worry. Isaak has it handled,” I said, trying to get her to look back at me. “As to thanking me…I can think of…No. Never mind.”
Idiot. Keep your mouth shut, I told myself.
“You can think of what?” Her eyes widened, then narrowed.
