by Donna Alward
She had to call the police. But where was her phone? Damn. She had deliberately left it downstairs to avoid wasting yet more valuable writing time internet browsing.
She glanced around the library for some form of weapon. But the only objects to hand were books. Thousands of them. She grabbed a sturdy hardback with sharp corners and crept towards the door.
She paused in the hallway, ears pinned back, but the faint sound of traffic out in Fitzalen Square was all that was to be heard. She counted to ten, but no further noise came from downstairs. She lowered the book, doing a mental eye-roll.
The house was old and bound to creak and heave like an old ship. She swung around to return to the library. And froze. Her eyes widened. Downstairs a voice spoke. A male voice. Wait! That voice was familiar...deep and smooth with a sexy Mediterranean accent that sent a flow of heat through her body...a voice that had irritated and fascinated her with equal measure at her cousin Kara’s wedding six months earlier.
She darted down the corridor and leant over the banister of the grand staircase.
It couldn’t be. Oh, please, not him. Of all people, especially not him.
‘Relax, Edwin, I promise to be in Monrosa for Christmas.’ Silence followed and then he spoke even more impatiently. ‘Yes, as soon as I take care of some business here in London.’
She leant further over the banister.
He was staying in London? Here?
‘There’s no need for security.’ Silence followed that statement and then an exasperated breath. ‘Don’t blame them; I left the Bahamas without informing them. And I insist that you allow me some space—I don’t need my protection team. I have to go, I have an urgent meeting.’
Beneath her, he appeared in the hallway, a hand raking through his dark, wavy hair, before he disappeared out of sight again.
She jerked back. The book leapt out of her hands. She went to grab it. Her fingertips glanced across the dark green woven cover but then it dropped fast and hard down through the stairwell. She stared after it and jumped when it smacked against the black and white tiles of the hallway two floors below.
She gasped and felt herself go the colour of a vine-ripened tomato.
A long silence followed and then slow footsteps. His feet came into view. It was the middle of winter. It was cold and wet. Then why on earth was he wearing flip-flops? He stepped forward, those broad shoulders lifting in question at the book sprawled on the floor. Pages had come loose.
Please don’t make it a rare edition. My credit card will go up in flames if I try to load any more debt onto it.
His head lifted, and for a moment she was tempted to run back to the library and pretend that she had taken no part in events. But having backbone was everything to her. So, arranging her features into a blank expression, she waited for the humiliation to come.
As he studied her his puzzled expression only intensified and then shifted into incredulity. And then he laughed.
Indignation fired through her.
She dashed down the stairs towards him—Prince Luis of Monrosa, who was waiting at the bottom step for her with a grin and a raised eyebrow. She tried to slow down on the final turn of the stairs, suddenly feeling rather shy and ridiculous. But her momentum was too great and she hurtled towards him, expecting his glee at meeting once again the stranger who had ambushed and kissed him before fleeing into the night.
* * *
Alice O’Connor flew down the stairs towards him like a hacked-off doe, her long legs and arms performing an uncoordinated dance. Luis leapt forward, to save her from going head over tail, but at the last moment she sidestepped him.
‘Your Highness, I didn’t know... Kara told me that the house would be free for the entirety of the Christmas period. I have my PhD thesis to complete and need absolute solitude.’
So that explained why Kara’s curious cousin was in the house.
Her black T-shirt had fallen off one shoulder, exposing a twisted black with red edging bra strap. He stared at it, a strange but strong compulsion to twist it back into place transfixing him. His hand moved out but just then she took the book that had dropped from the skies like a heat-seeking missile from him and added, ‘You startled me.’ She opened the book and leafed through the pages, her dark eyebrows knotting when she lifted the torn pages. ‘Oh, no, I’ve damaged it.’
‘What about me? I was almost impaled by it,’ he pointed out.
That only earned him a brief shrug. Her hand stroked the cover of the book, her long fingers caressing the spine. He touched his neck to where her fingers had stroked his skin the night she had kissed him. ‘You certainly know how to make an impression.’
Those grey eyes of hers lifted and she studied him with the same considered seriousness she had regarded him with at Edwin and Kara’s wedding. He had only spoken to her, as they had waited for the newlyweds’ departure for their honeymoon on the marina, because he had been concerned that she was about to fall into the sea, given how much she was swaying on her feet. At first he had thought she had drunk too much. But without him having said a word to this effect, other than to warn her of the water’s edge, she had indignantly informed him that she had never touched alcohol in her entire life. Then, after serving him a rather impressive withering look, she had bent down, untied the strap of her sandal, stepped out of it, and yanked it out of where it had become stuck between the wooden planking of the jetty and had turned her back on him.
Her long brown hair had been tied up, faint freckles visible along her bare shoulders. He had shrugged and stepped away but then had turned back, intrigued by the fire in her eyes. She had reluctantly chatted with him after Edwin and Kara had left but had refused his invitation to dance with him back in the ballroom. He had forgotten about her and danced with other guests. But later that night when he had been walking through the gardens in search of his brother, Ivo, Alice had appeared before him. For a few seconds she had hesitated but then in the barest of whispers she had asked if she could kiss him. He wasn’t given to kissing women he barely knew, it wasn’t his style, but her quiet seriousness, her lack of pretence and flirtatiousness, had him nod yes, his amusement swiftly being replaced by intrigue and desire thanks to the mind-blowing, perfectly pitched kiss she had delivered. Tender, warm and full of promises.
But the moment his hand had brushed against her bare arm, the moment his mouth had opened to her parted lips, she had yanked back and walked away. When he had called out for her to stop she had given a firm shake of her head. By the time he had caught up with her, she was already in one of the cars taking guests to their nearby accommodation.
Now she lifted her chin, cleared her throat and offered, ‘I believe I owe you an explanation.’ She hesitated for a moment, her hands rubbing against the blue denim of her jeans. ‘I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss a man with a beard. It was inappropriate of me and I hope I didn’t offend you. It was a silly dare I had with one of my cousins. A silly dare and a silly mistake.’
A silly mistake.
Really?
He rubbed his hand against his jawline and said in a deliberately heavily accented and husky timbre, ‘Am I safe now that my beard is gone...or do you want to see what it’s like to kiss a guy with a day’s worth of stubble?’
She blinked at that. Went to answer, but, her eyes narrowing, realising he was teasing her, she asked instead, ‘You’re on your way to Monrosa? Are you leaving tomorrow?’
Her voice was full of hope.
He gave her a lazy grin. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ His gaze ran from her startled eyes, down over her high cheekbones and wide mouth, down over her lean body that only gave a hint of curves, down to her bare long and narrow feet, her toenails unpainted, a satisfying and pleasurable thought forming in his mind. ‘I guess it depends on whether there’s something better to keep me here in London.’ Maybe Alice O’Connor was just the distraction he need
ed in his life right now.
‘But surely you want to spend Christmas with your family. Kara told me that Edwin is looking forward to you all spending Christmas together this year. That it will be the first time in years.’ Pausing, she frowned and asked, ‘Why are you wearing shorts and flip-flops?’
Without answering her, he took the stairs down to the basement kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a beer. Alice appeared behind him. Popping the bottle open, he took a long, deep slug, his eyes never wavering from Alice’s disapproving scowl. Dropping the bottle to the worktop, he looked at his watch. ‘Twelve hours ago I was in the Bahamas. I decided I wanted a change of scene.’
‘Couldn’t you have at least changed your clothes?’
‘I didn’t have time.’
Her eyes widened and she edged away to stand on the other side of the kitchen island. ‘Were you running away from something...or someone?’
He gave a chuckle. ‘Just myself.’
‘What do you mean?’
Well, Alice, I’ve just achieved my life’s ambition—to win the Global Power Boat Championship Series. Right now I should be back in the Bahamas, celebrating with my team. But I tried that for a few hours and I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand the thought of it all being over. I couldn’t handle the prospect of saying goodbye to my team. Knowing that now I had to keep my promise to return to Monrosa and take up my royal duties.
Can you believe that I even considered messing up my last race and losing the championship so that I wouldn’t have to honour that promise? That I was prepared to give up my life’s ambition in order to avoid returning to Monrosa. To avoid a life of boredom and protocol and being under the constant scrutiny of my father. The man who couldn’t even be bothered to call me and acknowledge my win. Like a fool I had waited for hours for him to call.
But why had I expected him to do so, knowing just how much he disapproved of my career? Why had I expected him to be proud of me, when I was nothing but a source of disappointment?
He took another slug of beer. ‘It was a joke. You do get jokes, don’t you?’
She eyed his now almost empty beer bottle disapprovingly and answered, ‘Yes, Your Highness, but only when the joke is explained to me...really, really slowly.’ Then, walking over to the basement French windows, she pointed out to the rain-soaked rear patio. ‘Why on earth would you want to come back here anyway? It’s wet and miserable. Surely a Mediterranean palace or the Bahamas is preferable to this?’
She considered him, her hands reaching around to rest in her back pockets. She was cranky and unpredictable...but right now he needed something that would distract him, and Alice O’Connor would do nicely.
He finished his beer, set it down on the worktop and said, ‘London does have its attractions.’ Moving towards her, he added in a low voice, his eyes holding hers, ‘Especially at Christmas time, when everything is so beautiful. I like beautiful things. And you can call me Luis... I think we’ve already moved beyond the formal, don’t you?’
* * *
Alice could understand why so many women fell for Luis. When it came to a checklist of desirable must-haves, he had them all. A prince. Tick. Tall, dark and handsome. Tick. A charismatic sports star who was at the top of his game and lauded for his commitment and bravery. Tick. A man with the unerring but addictive ability to make you feel as if you were the most important person in the world by holding your gaze with those soft hazel eyes and smiling gently at you. Tick.
But beneath the veneer of all those deceptively attractive qualities she was certain that he was just like her dad—self-regarding, self-centred and driven at all costs. And with those traits came manipulation and pain for those surrounding them. Which made the fact that she had kissed him all the more confusing and galling. At times since Kara’s wedding she had been able to convince herself that the kiss was all about her gaining control of that strange chemistry he had stirred up in her, but at other times she had had to admit to herself that it had been nothing more than ill-advised lust. And she hated herself for it. She hated losing control. She hated deviating even an inch from the life she had planned out for herself. And Luis had sent her careering off that path, okay only for a few crazy minutes, but it had seriously unsettled her. And it wasn’t going to happen again.
She held out her hand. ‘How about we start again... Luis?’
He took her hand and, giving her one of those heart-melting smiles of his, he said, ‘It is the season of goodwill after all.’
His grip was strong, his skin warm. A buzz ran up her arm and down her entire body. Flustered, she snatched her hand away. ‘Can I take it that you are yet another fan of Christmas? Don’t you get bored of it? It’s the same ding-dong every year, the same songs that are so sappy they make my skin crawl. Not to mention the same crazy buying of gifts that nobody wants. A law should be introduced whereby only under-tens are allowed to celebrate Christmas. Everyone else should have to just grow up and go to work. Think about just how unproductive it all is.’
He gave a chuckle and shifted closer to her. ‘My, aren’t you a modern-day Miss Scrooge?’ Something dark and mischievous glinted in his eyes. ‘Maybe you need to be shown just how magical Christmas can be.’
His voice was low, sexy. Beneath his black sailing fleece his pink polo shirt was open at the neck, revealing a fine dusting of dark hair and tanned skin. Something warm stirred in her veins.
‘I’m going to a party after I shower and change; why don’t you come with me...’ he paused, his lips curled up into an even more seductive smile ‘...to the party, I mean?’
What would it be like to watch him undress? Watch him step into the shower? Follow him into the warmth of the water? Get to know his body?
She jerked away from him. What on earth was the matter with her? She had a schedule to keep. A word-count to maintain. She had ten days to get her PhD thesis under control. Ten days of hiding away from the world, ten days of thankfully being able to avoid the silly season that was otherwise known as Christmas. Ten days before she would have to return to work and the erratic temperament of her boss at the coffee shop. And two weeks until her next meeting with her university supervisor, who, given the tone of their last catch-up, was seriously starting to question Alice’s ability to complete her thesis. And no PhD would mean she could kiss goodbye to any hope of securing a full-time lecturing position. She shouldn’t be wasting time having schoolgirl fantasies about her cousin’s brother-in-law. A real-life Prince Charming who was born to break women’s hearts. ‘Sorry, but I’m busy. I have to focus on my thesis.’
His head tilted. ‘That’s a shame...it’s Christmas, after all. You should be enjoying yourself.’ The teasing disappearing from his eyes, he added, ‘I’ll feel bad leaving you here all on your own. Are you sure you won’t come?’
For a moment she actually thought he was being sincere. The tone of his voice, the gentleness in his expression almost fooled her. She had to give it to him, he was a seriously good actor. But she trusted Prince Luis just about as far as she could throw him—and, given that he must be close to six feet four, and therefore had a seven-inch advantage over her, she wouldn’t be able to throw him far. He was trying to charm her. Why was beyond her, as they had nothing in common and it wasn’t as if there was a shortage of woman keen to date him if media reports were anything to go by. But she didn’t have the time or interest in working that particular puzzle out. Not with a PhD to complete.
And the idea of attending a Christmas party frankly left her feeling cold. All that forced and pretend gaiety. When in truth for many Christmas was about bickering and arguing, the unleashing of simmering tension and anger. She grabbed Luis’s empty beer bottle and rinsed it at the sink, before wiping it dry. Dropping it into the recycling, she answered, ‘I have a schedule I have to keep.’
Opening the fridge door, he considered its contents. ‘It’s Christmas. Everyone should forget abou
t schedules and work at Christmas.’
‘Not me. I don’t do Christmas.’
He shut the door with a frown. ‘So I gathered.’ Spotting the tin of chocolates on the counter beside the fridge, he prised the lid open. Alice winced. He rifled through it, his frown deepening. ‘Who eats all of the chocolates and leaves the wrappers behind?’
Earlier, after she had deleted all her day’s pathetic word-count, she had tossed herself into the tin of Christmas chocolates her mother had sneakily hidden in her luggage. There was no way a professional sportsman would understand how a grown adult could devour an entire tin of chocolates in one afternoon thanks to bored frustration, so she wasn’t even going to bother trying. So instead she backed towards the kitchen door and said, ‘If I don’t see you tomorrow before you leave for Monrosa...well, it’s been nice seeing you again. Enjoy your time with your family. Give my love to Kara.’
Unwrapping a chocolate in a purple foil wrapper that he must have found at the bottom of the tin, he gave a resigned shrug and said, ‘If you change your mind then you can join me at the Stewart Club. I’ll leave your name at the door.’
About to head up the stairs, she paused. His party was at the Stewart Club? Where it was said that Lady Radford had frequented. She’d love to have the opportunity to see the interior of one of London’s oldest and most exclusive private clubs. She eyed Luis. But to do so would mean accepting his invite. She moved back into the kitchen. Watched as he popped the dark chocolate into his mouth, his eyes lighting up with delight as he savoured the praline inside.
She should turn around. Go back up to the library. But instead she heard herself say, ‘My thesis is on the writer Lady Maud Radford. She used to dine frequently in the Stewart Club—in fact, it’s said that it was there she found the opportunity to influence those in government at the time with her political and social-reform ideas. So in the name of research I would like to join you tonight. But only for a short while. And strictly on a work basis.’
