The Stepsister's Prince

by Caroline Lee

  Britta made a noise which might’ve been disappointment, or might’ve been a cocka-doodle-do for all the attention Cass was paying her. But Kristoff looked back at the other woman. “So sorry. Maybe ask Alek?”

  The blonde woman frowned. “But he’s dating—I mean, he’s so busy!”

  “Yes, but he could give you the captain’s number. I never have my phone on me.” He made a show of patting his jacket pocket. “But Captain Nilssen could definitely set up a time to give you a private tour.”

  The way Britta’s eyes flashed at the word private—stressed to show her he knew exactly what she was angling for—made Cass press her lips together to keep from giggle-snorting.

  And that’s when the blonde woman turned her full attention on Cassandra for the first time since the conversation began, and it wasn’t pleasant. The anger in her clear blue eyes—anger because she wasn’t able to manipulate Kristoff into a date?—was harsh enough to drop another brick into Cassandra’s stomach. In fact, she was so surprised at the other woman’s faint snarl of contempt that Cass involuntarily took a little step backwards.

  And, of course, tripped on her stupid high heels. Britta’s ice-queen visage immediately soothed into a little smirk, probably laughing at Cassandra’s clumsiness.

  Right up until Kristoff caught Cass and snaked an arm around her middle, anchoring her against his side and his heat and his manliness and oh my gosh was it suddenly really hot in here or what?

  That’s when Britta’s gaze dropped to Kristoff’s arm, she snarled slightly, turned on her perfect calves—did she do lunges or what?—and marched off. Honestly, it was a mean-girl exit right out of a high-school-angst movie.

  Cass had always identified best with the snarky best friend character in those movies…but just then, with Kristoff’s arm around her and their hips pressed against one another, Cass very much felt like the heroine.

  The sexy, kickass heroine, who was very much desirable and not at all a klutz.

  Rock on.

  After the click-click of Britta’s heels faded away, Kristoff let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and his shoulders slumped slightly. And his hold on Cass loosened, but he didn’t move his arm away from the small of her back, or his hand away from her hip.

  Instead, he turned slightly. “Thanks for that.”

  “For backing you up? So you didn’t have to go on a date with her?” Because yeah, that’s what Britta had been angling for.

  “I don’t think she and I would make a good pair.”

  It was impossible to ignore the heat of his body, so close to hers, or the way her skin seemed to throb under his hand. Still… “I don’t know. She’s beautiful.”

  His smile flashed again—this time a wry smirk. “Not as beautiful as you.”

  What? Her mouth might’ve dropped opened. Did she somehow end up in the middle of that teen movie? Because that sounded like something out of one of those scripts—entirely too wonderful to be real.

  And maybe he’d realized it, because that smile dropped. “Wait, I’m sorry.” His hand moved off her side, and he backed up just slightly. His arm was still between her and the wall, but only brushing against her blouse. “I—I shouldn’t have…”

  He was always so confident, it was funny to see him acting as awkward as her. In fact, that knowledge gave her a boost of confidence, and she knew exactly what he was hesitating over. So this time she was the one to press herself against his side, to touch him. She let her fingers splay across his chest, the same way she’d done that afternoon when she’d just been a faceless massage therapist.

  And when she smiled hesitantly up at him, and saw something smoldering in his eyes, she got hot. All over.

  “I was happy to be your excuse, Kristoff,” she said in the sexiest voice she could manage, “and even happier to have your arm around me.”

  “You’re more than an excuse, Cass,” he whispered.

  Her stomach flip-flopped in the most wonderful way.

  When he inhaled, his chest pressed against her fingertips. “But I also am going to take advantage of the brilliant opportunity in front of me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Will you go out with me on Saturday? All day?”

  “And maybe Sunday?” she teased.

  “Yeah,” he drawled. “And Friday, too?”

  Great googly-moogly, she felt like she was flying. “I work Friday, and Saturday I’ve got two appointments in the late afternoon. But I could do Saturday morning.”

  “Awesome.” He leaned down just slightly until his breath caressed her cheek. “How do you feel about boats?”

  She was already tilting her head back, not sure if she was giving him access to her lips, her throat, her cleavage, or if she was just about to faint from the joy of touching him. “I love boats. I’m all about boats,” she murmured distractedly. “Yay, boats.”

  It wasn’t a lie, but she couldn’t manage much more at that exact moment.

  He chuckled. “Excellent. You’re on Solberg Avenue, right? Unless you’ve got a different place?”

  “No,” she breathed. “Solberg Avenue, yeah.” She and Dad shared a really nice four-bedroom condo on the eighth floor, overlooking the bay. And she would’ve said that, if not for the whole every-fiber-of-her-being-focused-on-his-lips thing.

  “I’ll pick you up Saturday morning, then. Nine? I’m going to take you down to the harbor and we can brainstorm about the Regatta. And have lunch, and I’ll show you around.”

  “Yay, boats,” she murmured again.

  Another chuckle, and then he did the worst possible thing in the whole world. He didn’t kiss her. Instead he straightened, stepped away from her, and took her hand in his.

  She felt lost, somehow, without his heat beside her, but then he bowed over her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, and she decided maybe this was okay too. Then he flipped her hand over and brushed his lips against her palm—oh God, was it gross and sweaty?—and her knees went weak.

  His lips were pulled into a little wry smirk, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and Cass figured she probably looked like a fish, with her wide eyes and gaping mouth. Maybe a salmon or a bass…

  “Until the weekend, m’lady?” he asked with a silly little flourish.

  And she wanted to yell, “Forget Mr. Darcy, bring back Sven the Conqueror!” but what came out was a kind of “Guurrrrrp?”

  Which, of course, made him smile wider. He straightened, stepped back into the hallway, and tucked her hand into his elbow. Whether it was to keep her from falling over, or because he was a gentleman, she didn’t know and didn’t care. As he turned back towards the informal dining room, Cass stumbled after him, her head full of pink fluff and her body full of the most delicious heat.

  I’ve got a date with Prince Kristoff!

  Here’s hoping she didn’t do anything monumentally stupid.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Pulling up in front of the Solberg Avenue building, Kristoff got the kinds of looks he was used to in situations like this. This area housed a bunch of fancy condos, and the security was pretty tight. Besides the Hayeses, Ambassadors and Ministers lived here, and Aegiria nobles and elites who had estates around the island kept homes here for when they needed to be in Solrighavn. All the parking was valet, and there was a large, covered pull-through in front of the double doors manned by two security guards.

  A valet began to hesitantly approach his delipidated Jeep, but Kristoff waved him away and propped one bare foot up on the dashboard, ready to wait for Cass as long as necessary. To amuse himself, he watched the security guard’s reactions to his presence.

  The old CJ-7 had been one of his winter projects. Each autumn he bought a rundown Jeep or truck online, had it shipped over, and spent the too-cold-to-go-hang-gliding months in his garage rebuilding it. This one wasn’t quite finished, because as soon as it had warmed up enough to go out on the bay, his sloop had taken up all of his attention. The CJ-7 had once been blue, and would be
again someday—maybe not ‘til November or so—but for now the rust spots were pretty noticeable. The seats were still original too, with the rips and duct tape on the canvas, but the roll bar was back in one piece again and the engine was purring.

  Welding and soldering were almost as fun as rock climbing.

  So, yeah, his new baby was looking a little rough around the edges, and he matched, in his frayed cargo shorts and t-shirt advertising an American sunscreen company. Sitting there, his foot propped on the dash—why bother with shoes, if he was going to take them off as soon as he got onboard anyhow?—he gathered up his hair and knotted it on top of his head with an elastic.

  Viking warrior, huh? He grinned, remembering Cass’s description of him. More like samurai with this topknot…

  One of the frowning security guards was gesturing towards the Jeep, and had already unclipped his walkie-talkie—Uh-oh, guess he thinks he’s going to come over and make me move—when the other one caught his arm and whispered something in his ear. Kristoff couldn’t tell what was being said, of course, but the incredulous look the first guard sent the second made him grin. When both guards looked his way, he gave a jaunty wave.

  Guess there are benefits to being a prince, even if they didn’t recognize me right away.

  Still, it was lucky Cass chose that moment to exit the building, looking stunning in a flowy pink sundress and flip flops. Not the best choice of an outfit for sailing, but he looked forward to seeing what the wind was going to do to that skirt. She carried a bag over one shoulder and looked a little disoriented to see him at first.

  Shaking himself, Kristoff reminded himself to quit staring, and hopped out of the Jeep, not even minding the warm asphalt against his soles. He hurried around to meet her, and taking her hand seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

  “Hi.” He smiled down at her, surprised by how happy he was to have her here with him.

  “Hi, yourself.”

  While the guards whispered beside them—he caught the words “Hayes” and “stepsister”—she looked him up and down, and smiled a little bemusedly.

  “Are you sure you’re Kristoff?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t look a thing like the man—the prince—I had dinner with. That man was sexy as hell in a suit, you know.”

  He wasn’t sure if he should be proud or offended. “And now?”

  Her smile turned impish. “Now you look like a beach bum.” She made a show of dragging her eyes down his ratty t-shirt and shorts, and lingering on his bare feet. “I’m surprised they let you wait out here.”

  He laughed and pulled her towards the Jeep. “They almost didn’t.”

  When they reached the vehicle, she stopped for a moment, then burst into laughter once more. “You are a constant surprise, you know that, Kristoff?”

  He could get used to the sound of her laughter. “Allow me, m’lady.” There were no doors on the CJ-7, so he couldn’t open it for her, but he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the seat. It would’ve only been an eight-inch climb for her—and there was a step—but he liked touching her, and he loved the little squeal of delight she gave before she giggled and settled herself.

  On the short drive down to the marina where he kept Älskvärd, he caught himself stealing glances at her. Her brown hair was contained in a thick rope of a braid hanging over one shoulder, and her hands had to keep tucking her skirt under her thighs to keep it from blowing every which way. Still, she was smiling, and her joy was infectious.

  Or maybe it was his joy which was infectious. He loved the way she was true to herself, didn’t try to hide it. She might be a little clumsy or embarrassed by it, but she didn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t. And her passion, her intensity, when she was speaking about something she loved…it was enchanting. She was enchanting.

  Kristoff was utterly charmed by this soon-to-be stepsister of his, and he couldn’t wait to have her all to himself for hours today.

  At the marina the security guard at the gate waved him through lazily, and he pulled into a parking spot close to the gangway to the docks, easing the long gear shift into “park”.

  But his mind wasn’t on the Jeep when he hopped down and hurried over to the passenger side to help her out. Cass had already slid out by the time he arrived, and he was disappointed he hadn’t had the chance to touch her waist again. The impish look she sent him said she might’ve known that.

  Which meant he was smiling again as he collected her bag and his well-stocked cooler, and took her hand in his. As they walked out onto the dock and down one of the finger piers, he pointed out various types of boats, and landmarks in Solrighavn, which sat right on the bay. Holding hands, strolling along the hot concrete, not a care in the world…he felt right. The salty wind ruffled both of their hair, and he breathed deep, knowing this was where he belonged.

  He’d give up being a prince if it meant being able to sail every day. Especially with a pretty girl by his side.

  Any pretty girl? Or just Cass?

  Luckily he didn’t have to answer himself, because they came to his slip. “Here she is! My pride and joy.”

  The Älskvärd wasn’t large—he could sail her alone—but he loved her compact beauty. Almost nine meters, bow to stern, she had a single mast and all the latest tech onboard. With the little cabin below—complete with a head and kitchenette—he could stay out for days if he wanted to. Of course, he rarely left Solrig Bay, and that was seldom for more than a few hours at a time.

  Being a prince meant not being able to do whatever he wanted. Still, he was damn lucky.

  Cass had been examining the Älskvärd, walking nimbly around the slip. When she came back to him—he was still standing starboard—he grinned. “Well? What do you think?”

  She smiled up at him. “Yay! Boats!”

  He burst into laughter, and God but it felt good.

  “Seriously, she’s beautiful.” Cass pointed to the stern. “What’s her name mean?”

  “Älskvärd is Swedish—I bought it off a guy from near Stockholm and sailed it back here. It means…” He paused, trying to find the best equivalent. “Sweet. Charming. No— More than that. Attractive, graceful.”

  “Winsome,” she offered.

  “Yeah, that’s it!” He studied her, standing beside his boat, the wind off the bay whipping her dress around her knees, and swirling little wisps of hair around her face. “Like you.”

  Her chuckle was good-natured. “Hardly. I’m not at all graceful.”

  “I dunno. You’re holding your own pretty well now.” She was balanced on the floating, bobbing finger pier with hardly an issue.

  She scoffed, but there was a faint blush to her cheeks which told him she’d appreciated his comment. “I just hope I don’t freeze. I brought a sweater…”

  “Yeah, we’re going to get up some speed. I’ve got all-weather gear below, if you get chilly.”

  “Awesome.” She hitched her bag up her shoulder, and before he could offer to help, had swung herself over the gunwhale and into the cockpit. He grinned and handed her up the cooler before going around to cast off the nonessential lines.

  From aboard, her call floated down. “Where do you want me to stow these? Here in the cockpit, or wait for you to open the cabin, or want me to find a place in the bow, or what?”

  “I’ve gotta open up to stow the fenders, so just hold off—wait.” Kristoff straightened, a line dangling in one hand. “You’re talking like an old salt.”

  Her face popped over the side. “Aye, me hearty,” she growled theatrically. “I was just about to practice me jig and sea-shanty-singing, but I’ve run outta grog and me wooden leg is givin’ me fits.”

  He waggled the line at her good-naturedly. “Then it’s the plank for you, swab!”

  “You wouldn’t do that to your first mate, would you?”

  “I will if you don’t answer my questions.”

  She grinned. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  He wa
s still chuckling when he heaved himself aboard. “So, seriously. You’ve sailed before.”

  “What makes you say that?” She blinked innocently up from near one of the port stanchions, where she was hauling in her third fender.

  “Because you knew what the bow was. The last lady I brought on board called it ‘the pointy end’ and asked if I had a ‘potty’ in my ‘cute little boat apartment’.”

  She cocked one finger. “Okay, first of all, I read.” Another finger. “Second of all, should I be bummed you brought another woman on board? Is this like, your favorite first date or something?”

  Her expression might’ve been flippant, but there was something in her eyes which told him the answer mattered. So he softened his teasing to say, “No. The last lady I brought on board was my Aunt Marina. She threw up a half-hour into the trip because the water was—and I quote—‘too bumpy’. I had to have the whole boat cleaned afterwards.”

  She looked mollified, so he crossed to starboard and began to pull in the fenders over there. “So, you learned all about boats from books, huh?”

  “I grew up sailing the Long Island Sound every summer, where my Dad’s parents lived.”

  Still squatting, he twisted until he could peer over the top of the cabin at her. “I knew I liked you.”

  And the smile they shared felt like magic.

  Later, after casting off—he liked a gal who know what to do when he called “Let go the forward spring lines!”—they motored out of the marina and into Solrig Bay. She looked impressed when he showed her all the cool features in the state-of-the-art Assisted Sail Trim system, and laughed out loud when he set the sail with a push of a button.

  She did help him run around and wrap all the lines around the winches, then cleat them, but she teased him the whole time.

  “Electronic sailing! You’re not even sweating! What’s the point, I mean really?” She threw him a smile as she settled into the bench in the cockpit. “You might as well just stay at home in front of a fan and play a sailing video game.”

  He was standing at the wheel at the stern, grinning like a fool. Both sails were up, the wind was strong, and they were running for the distant cliffs. Sun on my face, wind at my back, and a beautiful boat beneath me. This is where I belong.