A Princess in Maine

by Jen McLaughlin

  Chapter 3

  The hot afternoon sun shone down through the sparse clouds. Jeremy took his Patriots hat off, swiped his arm across his sweaty forehead, and then set it back in place with a grimace. The calm breeze didn’t do a hell of a lot to cool him off, but at least it was something. It was easily nearing eighty degrees, and it wasn’t even officially summer yet. Maybe he and Chelsea should rethink their honeymoon destination.

  The Arctic seemed pretty damn nice right about now.

  Paul, Chelsea’s older brother, had been ranting for a while now, and to be honest, Jeremy only caught about half of the shit he’d said. He grunted in agreement every now and then, since that was all the response Paul needed. Everyone who knew Paul knew he was happiest when he was unhappy.

  And Paul had been perfectly happy to stand here talking, watching Jeremy dig up this stump that Chelsea had been asking him to take care of. She said it was unsightly for lounging by the pool. He didn’t care how much work it was—he just wanted her happy.

  It had taken almost two years for Paul to forgive Jeremy for not telling Chelsea he was DEA when he came back into her life, but it seemed like Paul finally accepted him as his brother-in-law. Jeremy didn’t want to screw that up.

  “—right?” Paul asked.

  Shit. He had no idea what Paul had been talking about. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know, either, but they’re going after local businesses, and I swear I saw one of the Sullivan lackeys hanging around in the woods when I came over last week. They denied it, but I think they’re lying out of their asses.”

  Ah. The Sullivans. They were the largest crime family in Maine. They were impossible to get rid of, like roaches. Paul was convinced they were up to some criminal activity in Hudson. The O’Kanes had a beef with the Sullivans going back decades. And most recently, the Sullivans came after Chelsea because her father had something valuable of theirs that he wouldn’t give back. Jeremy hadn’t seen anyone lurking around, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Paul was right. The Sullivans had been quiet for too long. Crime families were never quiet. “Come on, let’s go inside. Cool off.” He started walking around to the front of the house, Paul close behind him, before he continued, “You think they’re going to come after us for money or something?”

  “Maybe,” Paul said. “Did you ask Chelsea what she thought about it?”

  “She says they don’t give a damn about us anymore.” Jeremy shrugged and headed up the porch steps of the inn he ran with his wife. “Maybe she’s right. She usually is. If she says there’s nothing to worry about…” The porch stair creaked under his foot, and he frowned.

  He’d have to check it out later.

  “Who was here?” Paul asked, frowning toward the black Audi pulling out of the driveway.

  “A potential client.” Jeremy watched the car leave. Hopefully the meeting had gone well. Chelsea had been stoked about the possibility of booking another wedding.

  Paul frowned more. “That model is bulletproof, and generally reserved for foreign dignitaries. Nothing good comes out of visitors in cars like that. No one has armored cars unless they expect to be shot at. Just sayin’.”

  Jeremy didn’t question how Paul knew these things. Paul had his fingers in a lot of pies Jeremy would rather not know about. He reached for the door, but it swung inward before he made contact with it. Chelsea stood there, practically vibrating with excitement. He blinked at her.

  “Jeremy!” she practically shouted, giving a little hop.

  The last time he’d seen her this wired, she’d been working on two hours of sleep, countless cups of coffee, and clutching way too many home renovation books. This time, he knew for a fact she’d gotten more sleep, but the coffee and renovation part…

  With his Chels, you never knew.

  Maybe she’d noticed the creaky step, too.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Everything.” She smiled at him, grabbed his hand, and tugged him inside the inn without so much as a nod in her brother’s direction. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”

  “Hello to you, too, sis,” Paul muttered, following them in despite her lack of greeting.

  “I’m guessing you booked us a wedding,” Jeremy said.

  “Not just any wedding,” Chelsea continued, reaching out with her free hand to squeeze Paul’s arm in greeting but not letting go of Jeremy. “Grace isn’t just marrying any average guy. She’s marrying a prince. She had bodyguards, with cute matching outfits! They want to have the wedding here, with no expenses spared, and offered us triple our normal—”

  “Wait.” He held a hand up. “Backtrack a bit. Grace?”

  “From school. The shy one.”

  He vaguely remembered a Grace. She’d been quiet, smart, and had never spoken to him. “She’s marrying a prince? A real prince?”

  “As opposed to a fake one?” Paul said dryly.

  Jeremy flipped him off playfully.

  Chelsea barely noticed. She was too busy vibrating with excitement. “Yes, a real one. He’s the Prince of Talius,” she exclaimed, still glowing with excitement.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  Paul frowned. “Me, either.”

  “I have. I read about it once in Time,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s somewhere near France. They didn’t become independent until after World War II, so they’re fairly new to the world of diplomacy.”

  “If she’s marrying a prince…what the hell was she doing here? I know she grew up here, but aren’t there traditions and shit royal weddings have to follow?” he asked.

  “That’s what I said, but they want to keep it secret. His countrymen aren’t happy he’s marrying an American, so they want to do it here. I guess every dad in Talius dreams his daughter will grow up to marry the prince. We’ll need security, and it’s a rush wedding, so it’ll be a little hectic, but we can totally do it. I mean, we planned our own wedding in two months, right?”

  Jeremy hesitated. “Right…”

  Security. Princes. Would-be princesses. Secrets.

  This all translated to a hell of a lot of work. And possibly, some trouble.

  Throw in the word “rushed” and that made it even worse.

  It was nice seeing Chelsea so excited, and he adored seeing her smile like that, but realistically speaking, this sounded like an awful lot for them to handle so early in the game. They were just starting to make a name for themselves in the wedding industry. While this could be huge for them if it was done correctly, it could also be catastrophic if they screwed it up.

  Was that a risk they should take?

  “Wait, was that Grace Grigoris?” Paul exclaimed, his eyes wide.

  “Yes!” Chelsea beamed. “Crazy, huh?”

  “Very. She barely even talked in high school.” Paul snorted. “How’d she snag a prince?”

  Chelsea narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not fair. She’s gorgeous—”

  “How rushed are we talking here?” Jeremy interrupted before the two of them went off on one of their legendary O’Kane fights.

  His wife stiffened, and slowly turned to him. Shit. She was hiding something. “Well, it’s imperative they do this quickly, because no one can find out, so you see, we have to really get on this right away, before the press—”

  “Chels.” He locked eyes with her, and she looked away. This was worse than he thought. She never looked away from him unless it was bad. “How rushed?”

  “Two months.” She bit her lip. “The wedding is scheduled for the last Saturday in July.”

  His blood rushed through his veins with a red-hot fury, because if she was saying what he thought she was saying…“Funny, because we aren’t going to be here then. We’ll be on our honeymoon, which you promised me would happen.”

  “Unless we aren’t.” She finally looked at him again. “Unless we push it back.”

  Chapter 4

  This was going about as well as I’d imagined. I kn
ew Jeremy’s thoughts like I knew those in my own mind, and his silence spoke volumes. I didn’t need words to know he was pissed off. I had to fix it before he got upset, instead of angry. Angry I could handle. Angry was my jam.

  When he got upset, I got upset, and then it was all a downhill trek in slippery mud while wearing heels. Best to stop walking before we both started to slide.

  An O’Kane never willingly falls.

  “Jeremy…” I grabbed both of his hands, ignoring Paul’s low whistle as he inhaled. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not blowing off our honeymoon. If we do this, we can have an even bigger one. A better one.”

  Jeremy frowned. “I don’t need bigger or better. Hell, I don’t care if we only drive thirty minutes away. I just want it to happen. You promised me we’d go at the end of July. We purposely didn’t take any reservations for the week.”

  “I know, but this is huge.”

  And our honeymoon isn’t? He didn’t say it, but I could hear his voice in the back of my head. At the same time, my father’s voice scoffed at our lover’s quarrel. Money is the most important thing. It was always more important. Without money, you were up shit creek without a paddle.

  Jeremy was always the romantic one. The one who remembered anniversaries, and flowers, and dates.

  I was more of a practical thinker. All thanks to good old Dad.

  Opting for an immediate big payday to benefit our future seemed like a no-brainer to me. I loved Jeremy. He knew I loved him. Hell, I’d even married him, something I’d sworn to avoid at all costs after what happened the first time I shared a life with someone, but Jeremy had been worth that leap of faith.

  This would be, too.

  Yes, rescheduling the trip sucked and it would be a hassle to change the resort and the plane tickets and everything, but I wasn’t suggesting canceling it altogether. Just postponing for a bit. This was a royal wedding. Another one wouldn’t just fall into our laps.

  The front door opened, and we both turned toward the sound.

  “Yeah. So, I’m gonna let you guys figure this out, and everything,” Paul said, backing up slowly. “We can do dinner another time.”

  “Wait. You could help us with this,” I said quickly. “We’re going to need extra security. You know we’d love to have you on staff—”

  “Stop beating a dead horse. I’ve already told you that I’m not working for you. Ever.” He glanced at Jeremy, and nodded once. Jeremy inclined his head, still staring at me. “Later, man.”

  “Later,” Jeremy echoed. The second the door closed behind Paul, he said, “You’d rather plan someone else’s wedding than go on your own honeymoon?”

  “It’s not like that…” I swallowed and reached for his hand, entwining his fingers with mine. “I love you with all my heart, you know that. I am committed to you, to us, one hundred percent. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I feel the same way about you.”

  “I know.” I let go and wrapped my hands behind his neck, rising on tiptoes to gently kiss him. “I really want to do this. It’s a huge opportunity for us. We can’t just let it sail by on its royal ship without letting it dock in our lake.”

  His lips twitched. “That was a horrible metaphor.”

  “I know.” I let out a small laugh. “But you get my meaning.”

  “If you say so,” he said sarcastically.

  Relief hit me.

  He was joking around.

  That was a good sign.

  “Look, after this, they’ll give us a huge check and we can close the inn for as long as we want, take a honeymoon wherever you want, whenever you want, and I’ll be there with thousands of bells on.”

  His hands trailed down my back, hovering over my hips, and his green eyes locked with mine as he stepped closer, his nostrils flaring slightly. Oh, that was a look I knew very well, and I was 100 percent on board with what came next. “Bells? I’d rather you wear nothing at all.”

  “That can be arranged, too,” I said breathlessly, because he was looking at me with those heated bedroom eyes of his that never failed to have me naked and quivering in five minutes flat…sometimes less. “Whatever you want, it’ll be yours.”

  He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. I could sense victory already, because he never did that unless he was about to give in. He’d seen the wisdom of my words, and was about to tell me as much, which meant that we were hosting a royal wedding. “Call her back, and have her sign the contract.”

  An excited squeal escaped me, and he shot me an incredulous look.

  I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t a squealer.

  “No need. I already had her sign it while she was here,” I said, trying to rein in my excitement a teensy bit before I did something unforgivable…like giggle.

  Any sign of seduction that lingered in his eyes instantly vanished, and his mouth tightened into a hard, unforgiving line. “You signed a contract with her before talking to me?”

  Well, crap. I’d been too caught up in the romanticism of the whole secret royal wedding thing to think of how that would make him feel. “Jeremy—”

  He let me go, his jaw hard, and his stare even harder. “I’ll start dinner. You’d better start calling some vendors. We have a royal wedding to plan.”

  Chapter 5

  A few hours later, I pulled my dress over my head and let it hit the floor.

  Jeremy didn’t even look up. This was bad. Really bad. Jeremy never missed an opportunity to look at my naked body, no matter how mad he was.

  We’d spoken about the royal wedding here and there, and it had gotten my wheels turning. Give me color-coded lists and a well-crafted schedule, and I was a happy woman. While I liked hosting weddings, I loved organizing them.

  Jeremy…not so much. Even so, he’d given a few thoughtful suggestions about how to handle security, and had asked me about my plans for the florist.

  But there was something missing.

  Maybe it was the lack of warmth in his eyes, or maybe it was the way he kept his hands to himself all night long, or the overall lack of flirtatiousness. Maybe it was my sixth sense telling me something was wrong.

  But whatever it was, he just wasn’t here with me.

  I turned my head toward him as he flipped the page in his book. It was about the forensic tests that can be applied directly to a crime scene, outside the lab. Jeremy had been out of the DEA for a year and a half, but he liked to stay up-to-date on the latest advancements. I usually teased him about it, and he’d always make a sarcastic remark about how he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t be out of a job and a home if I ever divorced him. Then he’d make love to me for hours to show me why I never should.

  But tonight, I knew that wouldn’t happen.

  Tonight, I needed a different tactic.

  I let out a long, dramatic, loud sigh.

  He glanced up, a brow raised. His gaze didn’t dip down my body. Not even for a sneak peek. “What’s wrong now?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  “You said that already, like, ten times.” He returned his attention to his book, frowning. His brow wrinkled as he added, “And I already told you that it’s fine, ten times.”

  “It’s not.” I climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and took the big volume of his “light reading” out of his hand. After carefully setting it down, I rested my hands on his chest. “I hurt you, and that’s not okay. It’s never okay.”

  “It’s not that big of a deal,” he said gruffly.

  “You say that because you love me, and you accept me no matter how flawed I am, which makes me love you even more, but I’m still sorry I hurt you.” I leaned down and kissed his neck, right under his ear. “It’s okay to be upset with me.” Another kiss farther down, over his pulse. “To be angry.” A kiss on the slight dimple of his chin. “Just tell me when you are until we fix it.”

  He squeezed my thighs, tilting his head to allow me better access, but I didn’t count my blessings
yet. This wasn’t over, and it shouldn’t be. I’d done wrong, and I owed him as many apologies as it took until he forgave me. O’Kanes might be okay with avoiding blame, but Hollands weren’t, so I wasn’t going to stop until I made it up to him somehow.

  “Fine,” he said. “You’re right. I’m pissed. You shouldn’t have agreed to something that major without asking me first, and you damn well shouldn’t have given away our honeymoon time and assumed I’d be okay with it.”

  I winced. “I know.” I kissed his chin. His hard stubble rubbed against my lips. “I got caught up in it all, and I didn’t think it through. It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “Definitely stupid,” he agreed, flexing his jaw.

  “Do you forgive me?” I asked as I lowered my mouth to his, stopping just short of actually kissing him. His grip on me tightened. “If I promise to never leave you out of big decisions like this again, will you forgive me?”

  “Chels…” He caught my chin with one hand and pulled back, locking eyes with me. “Yes, I forgive you. I could never stay mad at you. I love you too damn much.”

  “I love you, too,” I whispered, kissing the spot on his throat where his pulse pounded again. It leapt under my lips. “I can’t imagine my life without you, and I never want to, so please, if I do something shitty, call me out on it. I couldn’t bear the thought of me doing something that made you leave. I couldn’t…can’t…I can’t lose you, Jeremy.”

  “You could do anything, any number of horrible things, and I still wouldn’t walk away from you. From us.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, his green eyes soft with emotion. “You know that. You and me, forever.”

  “Forever,” I echoed.

  His palm trailed up my back, and tangled gently in my hair. He shifted so his hardness pressed against me, and I rocked against him hungrily. I bit back a moan when he chuckled in that deep, sexy way of his. “Uh-uh.” He shot me a cocky smirk. He was the king of smirks. “Not yet.”

  I pressed against him again, trailing my fingernails down his chest and through his crisp chest hair to toy with his nipple. When I bent down to kiss him, he made a sound and turned away. “Jeremy…”