* * *
This was a disaster. She wasn’t getting to know him. Yes, it was only the first interview but the flow was all wrong. Her questions were meandering and without focus. And even without listening back to the recording she knew that they sounded both stiff and uptight. She needed to inject some fun into the interview. Break down some of the tension between them. She grabbed her notebook from the laptop bag and opened it to the list of questions that she had decided to keep in her back pocket in case any interview went as pear-shaped as this one was going.
‘Of course. I’ll leave you to your calls but first can I ask you to take part in a rapid-fire interview quiz?’
‘Why?’
She needed to counteract his wariness with a healthy dose of enthusiasm. ‘Because it will be fun!’
His gaze narrowed. ‘Only if I can ask you a round of questions too.’
Why would he want to do that? She couldn’t say no...but the feeling of not being in control of this interview escalated at the prospect. ‘No problem. Do you want to share my list?’
‘No, I’ll think of my own.’
‘Okay...this will be interesting. I’ll start first. Apple or orange?’
He folded his arms, as though to say Seriously...? Is this the level of interview you are going to subject me to?
She winced, waiting for him to call a halt to the interview. But, raising one of those thick, straight eyebrows that emphasised the hard, masculine intensity of his face, he answered, ‘Orange.’
‘What couldn’t you live without?’
‘My dogs.’
He had dogs. She smiled warmly. ‘Ah, how sweet!’ She wanted to ask more about them but this was supposed to be a quick-fire session. ‘When was the last time that you lied?’
‘Last night.’
Her heart sank. Please don’t have hurt someone.
‘What happened?’
‘I said that I was okay with Princess Gabriela spewing on my shirt.’
She laughed in relief. ‘I haven’t seen her yet. Is she as gorgeous as she is in the photos?’
‘Even more so.’
Her heart kicked at the tenderness in his voice...maybe he did have a soft side after all. And for a moment he held her gaze and she was transported back to Alice’s wedding when they had danced together. The gentleness, the empathy in his voice, when he had asked her if she was enjoying herself, the way he held her gaze, not looking away, had jolted her into realising that Dan never looked at her that way any more. And everything she had been trying to deny, her loneliness, how unattractive she felt, how she didn’t know herself any more, had all collided and she had ended up uncontrollably sobbing in his arms. She looked down at her list of questions, found the next one. ‘What irritates you?’
‘People who do not accept or respect other people’s choices.’
She studied him, but the tightening of his mouth told her not to follow up what he meant by that...not yet at least. ‘Your most embarrassing moment?’
‘Catching a crab while competing in the world junior championships and ending up in the water.’
She frowned. ‘An actual crab made you fall out of the boat?’
He stared at her and then the most wonderful smile played on his lips. ‘No, it’s the expression used in rowing when the oar blade gets caught in the water.’
‘Oh.’ She rolled her eyes. And was rewarded with the pleasure of seeing soft amusement glisten in his eyes. ‘Beer or wine?’
‘Wine.’
‘Do you have a motto?’
‘No.’
‘If you did, what would it be?’
He rolled his neck, considering this. ‘I guess...be true to yourself.’
‘Have you ever been heartbroken?’
He rubbed his hand along his jaw, shrugged. ‘Upset...’ he paused, his eyes holding hers, his voice dropping a notch ‘...but not heartbroken.’
She was glad. For his sake. ‘What makes you happy?’
‘Walking with my dogs late at night in the olive groves surrounding my finca.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know... I guess the silence there and the fact that there are no expectations or pressure on me at that time.’
Was he talking about the pressures of work, or those that came from his royal duties? There was so much more she wanted to ask him, but she knew she had to bide her time. Ivo was the most reluctant interviewee she had ever had. She needed to build his trust in her. She needed to be patient. He was deep and complicated, a man you might never fully know. She shut her notebook. ‘That’s all my questions—now it’s your turn.’
He nodded, frowning in thought before he asked, ‘Pear or pineapple?’
‘Pear to eat, pineapple in a cocktail.’
‘Town or country?’
‘Definitely town.’
He shrugged at her answer as though he had expected as much. ‘What one word would you use to describe yourself?’
‘Curious.’
‘Olive oil drizzled on ice cream—yes or no?’
She pretend-gagged. ‘Definitely no—is that even a thing?’
‘You haven’t even tried it? I’ll make it for you this weekend.’ Ignoring her look of horror, he continued, ‘Cocktails on the beach or hiking in the mountains?’
‘That’s an easy one—cocktails on the beach.’
There it was again, that shrug that said she wasn’t surprising him. Did he disapprove of any form of slacking? What did she expect—he was an ex-international athlete and now an investment manager. That profile wouldn’t exactly suggest someone who could chill out easily. Did he enjoy life? Party? Find ways to escape from reality for a while?
‘What second word would you use to describe yourself?’
Without thinking she answered, ‘Thin-skinned.’
She gave a laugh, trying to pretend she was kidding, but Ivo didn’t even crack a smile in return. Instead he asked, ‘What do you like about yourself?’
What did she like about herself? She went to say something glib, like her hair, but then he smiled, an unexpected and gently encouraging smile, and she heard herself say, ‘I do keep trying...even when I don’t want to.’
Well, that probably made no sense to him...but it made sense to her. After Dan had split with her, some of her ex-colleagues, awkward with the whole situation between herself and Dan, had distanced themselves from her. In the end she had decided to search for another job, the awkwardness with her colleagues and having to face Dan every day proving too stressful.
But she had picked herself up and got on with life. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
To her amazement he smiled. Her heart danced to see his grin. ‘I like determination in a person.’
Her belly flipped at the soft intimacy in his voice. ‘I hope you’re still saying that in four days’ time... I really want to get to know you.’ Pausing, she knew she should clarify what she meant by that for the sake of the listeners, but a charge, an intimacy, ran between them at her words.
He lifted an eyebrow. And her heart slammed to a stop, this almost playful, teasing side to him even more disarming than his usual reserved demeanour. ‘Dinner with friends or dinner for two?’
‘I guess dinner for two can be special...depending on who it’s with, of course.’
Oh, God. She wasn’t supposed to be flirting with him.
He considered her answer, a glint of what possibly might be amusement in his eyes again. Whether he was laughing with her or at her was, of course, debatable.
‘What do you fear the most?’
Being too scared to do the right thing to protect myself...like how I should have ended my relationship with Dan long before he left. How I should have ended all contact with my dad much earlier than I did, knowing his unpredictability, how he came in and out of my life to s
uit himself, was damaging me. It wasn’t only my mum who time and time again fell for his apologies. I would ignore all the evidence of the past—how he would turn up on our doorstep after months of little or no contact—and instead cling to the hope that this time he would stay. That finally we would be a family, that the sparkle in Mum’s eye would last for ever. She was unable to resist him. She would go through a ritual of pretending not to want anything to do with him, but even as a child I saw the chemistry between them that skewed my mum’s judgement so terribly.
She had learned from her father that love was unreliable, commitment only a word, but her biggest fear was that she had inherited her mum’s lack of judgement and ability to protect herself. She had to be tougher. Less emotional. She needed to move through life with a more cautious but less invested approach to relationships. She needed to wear relationships lightly—enjoy them but not get emotionally involved.
But there was no way she was admitting any of that to him. So instead she answered, ‘The possibility of being forced to eat olive oil ice cream this weekend. Talking of which, I will be staying with you until Tuesday morning. What do you have planned for the weekend? Of course, we have Princess Gabriela’s christening on Sunday, which I’m very much looking forward to. But am I going to experience Monrosa’s nightlife again? Regular listeners will know I’m a huge fan of the local cocktail, Paradise City, which I got to try when I was here for Alice’s wedding.’
‘There isn’t any nightlife where we’re going.’
What on earth did he mean? There were numerous exclusive bars and clubs suitable for a royal close to the palace. ‘Aren’t we staying at the palace?’
‘No. We’re staying in my finca, San Jorbo.’
She tried not to look shocked. This wasn’t how she saw the weekend panning out. Should she protest? But on what grounds? She was his guest. She had to fall in line with his plans. Even if it was away from the assurance of knowing Kara and Alice would be near by. ‘Great, it will be wonderful to see more of Monrosa, and I have heard that the towns and villages in the north are stunning.’ Flicking off the recording, she disconnected the microphones. ‘So, your finca—what town is it close to...and will there be others staying there too?’
‘There’s a town on the opposite side of the harbour, and we’ll be alone.’
She stopped packing her bag. ‘How about your security team?’
‘They patrol the area but don’t worry, they won’t disturb any of the interviews.’
That was not what she was worried about...and, though his expression was deadpan, she was certain he knew that. All alone for four days with him...what was she walking into? Would she somehow overcome just how unsettled he made her feel? Would she ever manage to get him to relax and have the spontaneous and free-flowing conversations that she wanted to give to the listeners? And what about the sparks of attraction between them...were they even real or just in her imagination...but if they were real, what on earth was going to happen when they were all alone?
‘If you’d prefer to stay in the palace, that can be arranged. We can talk again on Sunday when I’m there for the christening. With today’s interview and a longer one again on Sunday I’m sure there will be enough material for a podcast. In fact, you can send me your list of questions tomorrow and I can prepare in advance.’
She winced at the enthusiasm in his tone. She obviously wasn’t the only one not relishing the prospect of four days together. She plastered on a smile. ‘That’s not how these podcasts work. I have to spend time with you.’ She stopped and cringed. That sounded all wrong...it sounded as though she was contemplating a prison sentence rather than it being the part of her job she usually loved the most—having the privilege to peek into another person’s life and really connect with them on a deep level. She was still in contact with all of her ex-interviewees. Somehow she got the feeling that that might not be the case with Ivo.
Even though she was standing, Ivo remained seated, studying her closely, which was only making her even more jittery than she already was.
‘I know things have been tough for you. Stay in the palace. Spend some time with Alice and Kara.’
She zipped the bag closed, shame keeping her eyes averted from him. Oh, God, he obviously somehow knew about Dan’s wedding. Did he pity her? The whole thing was embarrassing enough...and now she had the man who was nicknamed The Machine feeling sorry for her. ‘Make your phone calls and I’ll go and get myself a Paradise City in the nearest cocktail bar. Come find me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll treat you to a Friday night drink before we disappear into the wilderness.’
She walked away, knowing she was leaving one unimpressed prince behind her. She knew she was being glib and perhaps even a little disrespectful, but the thought of four days alone with him was making her irritable...and a whole lot nervous. And when she was like that she needed noise and activity and as many distractions as she could find.
CHAPTER THREE
THE SUV THAT had trailed them all the way from Monrosa city didn’t follow them past the heavy wooden gates and security lodge that marked the entrance of Ivo’s finca, San Jorbo. But what did follow them were two wildly yapping dogs, who only calmed when Ivo drew his car to a stop and opened his door. A little grey-haired terrier was the first to jump in, but he was swiftly shunted across the car and onto her lap by a much larger dog who vaulted himself onto Ivo. She patted the terrier gingerly, praying the short-haired monster on Ivo’s lap wouldn’t decide to spring across to say hello to her too.
Ivo murmured in low Spanish to the dogs, stroking them both, his arm inadvertently brushing against her chest in the process as he stroked the terrier on her lap...and she liked the press and warmth of his bicep a little too much for her own good. She was tempted to leap out of the low-slung car. Give up her space to the two dogs, who were getting more of his attention than she had received for their entire forty-minute journey here. Okay, so maybe some of it was her own fault...she should have realised that she had misplaced her phone much earlier. They, and Ivo’s security, who had been stationed behind his sports car in their SUV when they had left the cocktail bar, had had to turn around fifteen minutes into their journey north in order to search for her missing phone.
She had hoped their journey would be relaxed and an opportunity for them to get to know each other a little better, but he had answered her questions in his direct, unembellished way and that had been as far as their conversation had gone. The silence had been awkward and she had found herself running a one-sided stream of observations on the mountainous landscape they had passed through. But there were only so many times that you could ooh and aah over the spectacular views of the coast from the narrow mountain road, the towering pines and eucalyptus trees clinging to the craggy, sun-bleached terracotta earth or the narrow laneways of the whitewashed villages they had passed through, locals sitting on terraces in the evening sun, nodding their heads in respect as they spotted Ivo’s convoy pass by. She had eventually run out of steam and, reluctantly giving in to his silence, she had wound down her window and allowed the scent of the mountain forests in. And after a while her whirling mind had stopped racing, the wind blowing against her hair, the ancient beauty of the landscape that looked as though it hadn’t changed in thousands of years, and Ivo’s assured and calm driving skills even on the endless hairpin turns allowing her the first moment of calm in a week she’d rather forget.
But now she was firmly back in the reality of knowing that she had a job to do. On his command both dogs hopped into the rear seat of the car, which was barely big enough to contain them both. Reaching for her phone, which she had eventually located under the cushion of a seat in the outdoor terrace of the bar, she asked, ‘Is it okay if I record our arrival at the house? I always ask my interviewees to give me a guided tour of their house so that the listeners can get a sense of what their homes are like.’
Ivo eyed her phone wearily.
‘A quick tour is all I need,’ she added by way of encouragement.
His answer was a curt nod.
She opened the recording app and pressed play. ‘So, we’ve now arrived at Ivo’s finca. The surrounding countryside is mountainous and we are approaching the house along a steep driveway in a valley that runs down to the sea, terraces of olive trees on either side of the drive. And we got a surprise welcome when we entered Ivo’s property—his two dogs came to say hello and are now excitedly sitting in the back seat of the car.’ Turning, she pointed the phone at them, ‘Say hello, doggies.’ She giggled when both dogs barked in response. Ivo even cracked a smile.
‘What are their names?’
‘Paco and Lore.’
She laughed. ‘Which came first, the business or the dogs?’
He drew the car to a stop at the side entrance of a traditional single-storey sandstone finca, topped with a terracotta roof. He looked back at the dogs, and despite his smile she could see worry in his eyes. ‘Paco is twelve years old. I adopted him five years ago when I was living in Seville. And soon after I adopted Lore. I’m not sure of her exact age, somewhere around fifteen.’
He was worried about losing them. Something solid lodged in her throat as he climbed out of the car and pulled his seat forward, both dogs bounding out to receive even more vigorous rubs from him, Ivo’s eyes twinkling in delight. His bond with his dogs transformed him...lightened him.
Stepping out of the car, she held her phone out, wanting to record the cicadas in full song, and wondered if she would manage to capture the crash of the waves on the shoreline below them for her listeners too.
Summer Fling with a Prince Page 3