by J. Kenner
“Your words were a bit muddled, but your pauses were significantly less. You regulated your breathing, and it worked.”
The return of the waiter gave her a reprieve before answering. She swirled the glass, then took a sip. “I was talking to you.”
“And I don’t make you nervous?”
She seemed to genuinely consider the question. “No,” she said. “You never have.”
He started to reach for her hand, remembered, and pulled back. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“You still haven’t … answered my question. Why me when any lawyer would do?”
“That’s not a question you should have to ask.”
She looked down, then ran her finger over the rim of her glass. “Leo. Don’t. Just … don’t.”
“I am sorry, Skye. More sorry than you’ll ever know. Or believe.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you? Just because you … walked away after the first time we finally slept together? Because you never … called? Because I … learned that not only were you a … prince, but you were … prancing around Europe with a dozen … girls on your arm.”
This time her speech wasn’t clear. The words came painfully slow, their tones slurring together so that he had to concentrate to understand her.
“I am sorry. At first, I was frantic. My father had a heart attack, and I was about to inherit the throne. I couldn’t—I couldn’t be with you. I knew that. And I was so angry at the world and my fate that I pushed that reality down, burying myself in the minutiae of duty.”
“You’re saying you didn’t … call me because you … wanted me?”
The dysarthria did nothing to mask the sarcasm. He heard that loud and clear.
“I was an idiot. And then—I don’t know. Once my father was well, I could have come back. I could have flown to Texas and told you everything.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“I see.” She took another sip of whiskey. She’d barely made a dent.
He picked up his glass and downed the rest of his.
“So you’re here now … with me … because you need to learn about amending your constitution.”
He knew he ought to say yes. Whatever had been between them was gone—and if it wasn’t, it might as well be. Even if he hadn’t hurt her, they had no future.
But he didn’t say yes. Instead, he told her the truth. “I’m here because Professor Malkin is getting an award on Friday. Your firm’s symposium was a happy coincidence.”
“So you could have just hired another attorney?”
“Could have, yes. Probably should have.”
“But you didn’t.” She stirred her whiskey with her fingertip, then sucked the liquid off.
“No,” he said, his entire body tightening. “I didn’t.”
She withdrew the digit, her cheeks pink.
“I was coming to Austin. You’d written this article. Your firm was hosting an international law symposium. The coincidence seemed too much to ignore.”
“Quantum entanglement,” she said, then grinned.
He realized he was smiling. “Not exactly, but I’m proud of you for trying.”
“Well, I never was the physicist.”
“No.” He reached for her hand, and she didn’t withdraw it. “You’re right that I could have asked another lawyer. Maybe I should have. But I wanted you.”
“Why?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Because you’d already helped me once, so I hoped you could help me again.”
“I did? How?”
“You fell for me, and not my crown. And back then, that mattered more than you can know.”
Chapter Thirteen
Skye paced the living room as Bart sat on the couch watching her, probably thinking she was crazy.
He caught her eye as she reached the wall, turned around, and started back toward the kitchen. “Did you tell him you’re happily engaged, and that he needs to keep his distance?”
Skye paused, then shrugged. “I didn’t tell him that I’m not.”
“Good. He thinks we’re together. That’s a good plan. That’s solid. It’ll make everything go more smoothly while you two are working together.”
Skye nodded, though with less enthusiasm than she probably should have. Somehow the idea that Leo believed she was unavailable just depressed her.
“You’re meeting him again tomorrow night, right?”
“Bart?”
“What?”
“I don’t want to be engaged.”
“Hannah,” Bart called toward the kitchen. “You want to help me out?”
“Like hell,” Hannah called back. “You giving relationship advice? I’m all ears.”
Bart scowled, then sighed. Then he scooted to the side of the couch, angling his body as he looked at Skye and patted the seat next to him. “We need to have a conversation.”
With a sigh, she went and sat, curling her feet up beneath her.
“What happened to being wildly pissed off?”
“I was. Maybe I still am. I don’t know.” She’d been fiddling with her hands, but now she looked up at him. “He was so … earnest. So sorry.”
“Earnest? Can royalty be earnest?”
She ignored him. “I think he genuinely felt horrible … about what happened. I want ... I really like him. Maybe I even love him. Or loved him before.”
“Skye…”
“I don’t like being angry at him. It feels … wrong.”
“Okay. I get that. You’re not someone who holds a grudge.” Bart reached out and took her hand. “But that doesn’t mean you should go all in with this guy. Come on, Skye. He’s a prince. Remember? It’s not like this is going to go anywhere.”
“That’s not … a good reason for me to stay mad. I mean … why shouldn’t I forgive him? Like you said, this can’t go anywhere. He’s a prince. And I’m … just me. But we have a … connection. And I don’t want to destroy that by holding onto being angry.”
“Damn right, he’s a prince. Which means he’s supposed to be held to a higher standard of how to treat people. You’re totally justified in being angry.”
“Oh please,” Hannah said, walking back in from the kitchen holding three open bottles of beer. She handed them out as she asked, “What tabloids have you been reading? Higher standard? The rich and royals are users.”
“No,” Skye protested. “He’s...”
“But,” Hannah said firmly, “Leo sounds like a good one. I mean if nothing else, he’s trying to stay on the down low. He’s not out there being a social media whore, right?”
Bart stared at Hannah, then turned to Skye. “What’s going on here? Yesterday you were furious with him.”
“I know. I was. Maybe I still am.” She stood and started pacing again, her emotions all in a muddle. “I had a good time tonight. And he—”
“He hurt you. Like deeply.”
“He apologized.” She looked between her friends. “And it was a real apology. Shouldn’t that count for something?”
“Of course,” Hannah said.
“Why are you not helping me on this?” Bart demanded.
Hannah shrugged, and Bart leaned his head back and groaned.
Skye dropped back onto the couch again, then faced him. “So you’re saying … I should still be angry with … you because of that time you washed all my … sweaters on hot?”
“I didn’t realize—”
“Or that time you took me to that kara … oke bar and you were so … drunk that you insisted I sing? And the crowd …started jeering me?” She shuddered. That had been one of the more mortifying moments in her life.
“Yeah, but I was really drunk, and—”
“You’re one of my best … friends, Bart. I forgave you. Of course I forgave you.”
Bart leaned back with a sigh. “But he’s not one of your best friends, is he? He’s a man you could fall in love with. And that’s going to make everything different.”
Skye swallowed, wanting to argue, but there wasn’t anything to say.
She met Hannah’s eyes, and saw the resignation there, too.
They all three knew the bottom line—Leo could hurt her again.
The only question now was if she was willing to take the risk.
Skye spent Saturday afternoon burning off energy by cleaning the apartment while listening to an audiobook on the history of Avelle-am-see. She lasted three hours before she couldn’t stand it anymore and switched over to an Eighties mix on Spotify.
She was jamming to You Shook Me All Night Long with a rag and a spray bottle of Clorox cleaner, when she twirled out of the bathroom and ran straight into Leo. She gasped, yanking the headphones out of her ears. “How did you get in here?”
“Your fiancé let me in.”
It took her a second to process the fiancé part. “Oh. Right. What time is it? I’m so sorry I’m not even ready. I was just cleaning. I must’ve lost track of time.”
“Don’t worry. It’s only four.”
“I thought we were going out at seven.”
“We are. I was supposed to go over to Professor Malkin’s house for a quick drink this afternoon, but his little girl is sick. I thought I would take a chance and come by here since my afternoon opened up.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Except she wasn’t. She wasn’t sorry at all.
“It’s probably just a cold, but he didn’t want to risk me catching it. Honestly, neither did I.” His mouth twisted and he managed a small shudder.
“What?”
“Trust me when I say that being a royal with a cold is a miserable experience.”
“Over-tending?”
“The entire palace staff walks on eggshells and tries to make me feel better. It’s exhausting.”
She laughed, enjoying the moment until he turned that sexy smile toward her. Then the happiness shifted, and a wave of shyness crashed over her. She put the rag and cleaner on the coffee table, then had nothing to do with her hands. She shoved them in the pocket of her ratty shorts, then realized that she was only wearing flannel sleep shorts and a threadbare white tank top that was practically see-through.
“Um, well, it’s good to see you.” She thought about crossing her arms over her chest, but decided that would make the predicament more obvious.
“I thought we could get a little bit more work in.”
“Sure. Just let me get dressed. We can head on over … to my office and start planning how you can advocate for amending the … constitution. I was listening to the history of Avelle-am-see while I was cleaning, and I think—”
“I didn’t realize that our history was quite so bouncy. You managed quite an interesting number with your hips.”
She cleared her throat, certain her cheeks were burning. “You saw that?”
He just grinned.
“I, um, switched over to a rock playlist.”
“Don’t tell me you got bored listening to my country’s history. I’m shocked.”
She laughed outright. “In my defense, before I switched over to AC/DC, I learned a lot. Your country … prided itself on equal rights for women early on. The constitution is … an anomaly, and I think the citizens will … support you. We just need to—”
“All that’s fascinating. But you need to tell me later.”
“Later?”
“Right now we’re going to the zoo. Then The Fix.”
“The zoo?”
She expected him to tell her that he was joking. But soon enough they were in his rented Porsche and heading toward the Austin Zoo, a non-profit rescue zoo for a variety of species. It was one of Skye’s favorite places, but it didn’t meet some people’s expectations. “You know that Austin’s zoo is … small, right? If you’re looking to … visit a traditional zoo, we need to go all the way to San … Antonio or up to Waco.”
“Trust me,” Leo said. “Smaller is better for our purposes.”
“Our purposes?”
But he didn’t answer. He just cranked up the radio to an ’80s rock station, then grinned at her. “I thought we’d keep with your theme for the day.”
She laughed, and they jammed the rest of the way there, singing along with Def Leppard, Van Halen, and Queen. She lost herself in the music and the laughter, and didn’t even worry about how she sounded or what he had in mind.
It wasn’t until they were on the premises that he explained his plan, which was how she ended up standing in front of the genet habitat while the adorable, cat-like creatures relaxed on the tree-branches and makeshift hammocks. Slowly and deliberately, she read the information plaque to a blond-haired six-year-old who listened intently before telling his mother he wanted to take one home.
After the genets, they moved on to bobcats—good swimmers with “bobbed” tails, and thus the name—which she introduced to a nine-year-old who kept asking questions that she couldn’t answer.
The three-year-old by the coatimundi habitat wasn’t at all interested in the animals, but she read him the information card nevertheless. And on and on they went through the zoo, with Skye reading the various information plaques to the children who gathered nearby.
By the time she’d spoken to the fifth or sixth kid, she’d stopped being self-conscious. It was clear that the kids didn’t notice her slurred and hesitant speech. As for the parents, if they noticed, they didn’t mention it, probably relieved to have some of the educational tasks taken off their shoulders.
“Thanks,” she said to Leo as they walked back to his car. “That was fun.”
“I’m glad you thought so. Best of all, you’ve earned a drink.”
They headed back downtown, followed by Jürgen who’d been discreetly tailing them all day. “Doesn’t he mind?” Skye asked, turning around to watch as Jürgen’s Range Rover crossed two lanes to slide in behind Leo’s Porsche.
“Mind? No. It’s his job. He’s a friend, yes, but he’s responsible for my safety. Normally, he’d be in the car with me. Today though....”
“I guess I … should be flattered. He obviously doesn’t … think that I’m out to kill you.”
Leo shot her a quick grin. “When we first came back to the States, that remained an open question.”
“Rightfully so,” she said with a teasing grin.
“But not anymore?”
“No,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Not anymore.” They shared a smile before the light changed, and he inched forward in the downtown traffic. “I’m very glad to hear it.”
She stayed silent as he left the car with the valet at the Driskill. They walked the short distance from the hotel to The Fix, with Jürgen pacing them from about half a block behind.
“You know,” she said, trying to sound casual, “that really was fun. You should take Talia to the zoo. Just don’t make her read the plaques, and it could be a fabulous date.”
He paused on the sidewalk in front of The Fix, turning to face her directly. “Have you ever gone there with Bart?”
She shook her head. He nodded, then held the door open for her. They walked in silence until they were settled at a two top near the stage where a local band was playing country music. Fortunately, they weren’t too loud, and it was easy to talk. “I owe you an apology,” Leo said as soon as he’d ordered Loaded Coronas for both of them.
“You do? What for?”
His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed. Then he laid his hand on top of hers. “For letting you have the wrong impression. Talia’s part of my publicity team.”
“Oh.” She pulled her hand away, suddenly all too aware of the brush of skin against skin. She put her hands in her lap and twisted her fingers together. “Well, you should be careful.” She looked everywhere but directly at him. “Sleeping with someone on your team is the kind of thing that will draw bad press.”
He nodded slowly. “True, but I should have been more clear. I’m not sleeping with her. She was wearing my shirt because she spilled coffee all over her blouse. I lent it to he
r so that we could have it washed while she went back to her apartment. She’s not staying at the Driskill. She actually has family in town.”
“Oh. Then why did you—?”
“I let you think that we were together because...”
She frowned as he trailed off. “Because why?”
He drew a noisy breath. “Because I knew it would add distance between us.”
“Oh.” She stiffened. “You want distance.”
“No.” He leaned forward. “No, I really don’t. But I also didn’t want to hurt you again, and that was before I knew you were engaged.”
“Right. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Well, that’s really sweet of you to protect me.” She kept her hands tightly into her lap, realizing after a minute, that she was squeezing them so tightly that she was at risk of cutting off circulation to her fingers.
“Later, it didn’t seem important to tell you. After all, you’re with Bart, so what did it matter? He seems like a nice guy, by the way. I’m happy for you.”
“Yeah. He’s one of the good ones.” She flashed a bright smile, as if she was in the best relationship ever. But she couldn’t sustain it.
“Skye?”
She sighed. “Look, he is nice. He’s a great guy. But he’s not mine.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I guess we think alike,” she said. “He’s a friend from law school. And he’s my roommate while his place is being remodeled. But there’s nothing between us. There never has been.”
“Well.” Leo sat back, his head slightly cocked. “Isn’t that interesting information?”
“Is it?”
He met her eyes, and she saw the depths of heat and longing there.
“Yes, Skye. I think it is.”
Chapter Fourteen
“A daiquiri?” Skye asked an hour later when she returned from the ladies’ room. “What about another loaded Corona?”
Leo shook his head. “We’ve moved from drinking for pleasure to drinking as part of your instruction. Not that watching you suck on a straw won’t be pleasurable for me...”
Skye rolled her eyes. “You want me to do oral motor exercises?”