Chloe’s timing was impeccable, because if she had waited a minute longer, she would’ve seen Alessandro stand and cross the bunkhouse in nothing but a pair of shorts to fetch his shirt and shoes.
For her part, Frannie found herself frozen in place until Walter Tagaloa approached to let her know he’d told the other boys to stay in bed, shattering the spell Alessandro had cast over her. She’d nearly pushed the image of the prince’s flawless torso from her mind when she’d come face-to-face with Alessandro in the back hall as he returned from his walk with Remy.
Even in his white T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of athletic shoes, Alessandro oozed sexuality. Worse, she could smell his shampoo and see that his hair still held the dampness of a shower. How could she be attracted to a man’s shampoo?
How could it make her wish he’d kiss her again, as he’d done in the palace library?
It’d be the worst thing that could possibly happen. As it was, he’d been so focused on the shipment, he hadn’t even waited for her to finish speaking before he bolted for her office.
She heard footsteps, then he frowned at her from the hallway door, said, “You’re coming, right?” and disappeared again.
She yanked her fingers from her shorts pockets and followed, stopping only to glance at Remy’s bed to ensure he was asleep. Alessandro crossed the compound at a breakneck pace. Whatever was in those boxes, he wanted it badly. Given that he hadn’t mentioned the shipment since the day he arrived, she couldn’t imagine what had him so fired up.
“I hope you have a knife or box cutter. There’s not one in the office,” she said to his back. A well-muscled back that his shirt did nothing to hide. And those shoulders. Her gaze locked on them as he walked in front of her. It seemed impossible for a man’s shoulders to be so perfectly sculpted. Strong, firm, but not obnoxiously large….
Francesca Lawrence! Stop!
Ogling the man would only give him an opening to flirt if he caught her, and that…well, that would lead down a road she couldn’t travel.
She stopped short as she entered the office behind Alessandro. He was already crouched in front of the stack of boxes, mumbling to himself.
“Is this everything?”
“According to the cargo slip I received at the marina. It’s in the truck if you want me to get it.” The shipment was one of the largest ever received at the shelter, aside from those of furniture or building supplies. She couldn’t imagine how anything more would’ve fit on the boat, let alone in her office.
He began lifting from the top of the stack to reveal one of the two large boxes that had been placed along the wall, then pulled it toward the center of her office floor as if it weighed nothing. “No, I’m fairly sure this is it. You have a knife?”
She knew it. He hadn’t heard a word she said. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll grab a box cutter from Tommy’s toolbox.”
“Don’t bother.” He filched a pair of scissors from a jar on top of her desk and wedged them under the side of the box to create enough space for his fingers. Once he forced his fingers inside, he grunted, then pulled at the top until it gave.
“What’s so important that you can’t wait until morning? Or for a box cutter?”
“You’ll see.”
When he finally lifted the thick flaps, his expression brightened. “You’ll love this. It’s not the box I thought, but—” He waved her over. “Come here.”
She approached slowly, wondering what brought such a broad smile to his face, and pulled back one of the flaps. She looked at him in amazement, then at the contents of the box. “Oh, Alessandro! This is fabulous!”
At least a dozen kaleidoscopes lay pillowed in bubble wrap. Alessandro moved them aside so she could see what lay underneath: brand-new board games and two boxes labeled as magic kits. He looked up, gauging her reaction, then lifted out the games and magic kits to reveal a plain carton at the bottom of the box. He lifted the lid slightly, then raised a brow at her as if to say, take a guess.
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Dress up clothes for both boys and girls. They’re sized for the nursery school kids. All up to the highest safety standards, I promise.”
He opened the lid the rest of the way to show her princess outfits, cowboy outfits, and a Robin Hood type costume.
“There are more of these in another box,” he added. “Star Wars costumes, mostly. The other box also has art supplies. Watercolors, crayons, art paper. There’s at least one deflated fútbol, several volleyballs, and a pump tucked in with the laundry detergent. I imagine we can scrounge something to use as a volleyball net. I hope that’s all right?”
Frannie put one hand to her chest. Her eyes welled up at the thought of the kids’ reaction when they saw it all. They’d be ecstatic. Alessandro’s gifts would tap into the one thing the children had in abundance: imagination.
“It’s more than all right,” she told him. “The little ones will die when they see the clothes, and you’ve seen how the older kids spend their free time. This is right up their alley.” The board games would be welcome for the older kids, who’d worn out most of the games they already had. Some of what Alessandro provided were familiar favorites, but others were entirely new. The kaleidoscopes would be popular with the children Remy’s age as well as the younger ones. And all of the kids would have fun with the magic kits and art supplies. She could imagine Johnny, in particular, volunteering to put on a magic show for the little ones at the nursery school.
While she sorted through the games, Alessandro pulled out the other large box and used the scissors to wedge open the side. He bent to peek inside. When Frannie looked over to check on his progress, he surprised her with a playful wink that made her feel beautiful, despite the fact she’d spent the evening loading supplies. “Hit the jackpot. The box I really wanted to open.”
“What is it?”
“Comfort items. This time, they’re all for the grown-ups. There’s even something for you, Miss Uptight Sorbonne Economics graduate.”
She straightened and put her hands on her hips. Uptight? “Is that what you think of me?”
How uptight could she possibly be, standing in the middle of a South Pacific island in shorts and a tank top with dust from carrying the boxes all over her arms?
“You’re the one who wanted to talk world politics at a Christmas party, remember? If that doesn’t scream uptight, I don’t know what does.”
The man knew how to deflate an ego. “What’d you put in there, back copies of The Economist? A political biography or two?”
Not that she wouldn’t love to sink into a great political biography in the moments she had to herself each night before drifting off to sleep, but it bothered her that when Alessandro looked at her, he saw a stiff, boring, scheduled schoolmarm. Not a woman with a range of interests, one who’d taken the leap to travel around the world, alone, to build and manage a shelter.
Not the woman he’d kissed in the library. Though he’d mocked her, even laughing as she’d stumbled while leaving the room, part of her wanted to believe he’d found her attractive.
Alessandro ignored her question, grunting as he forced the top of the box. When it opened, he reached in, pulled out bubble wrap and tossed it in the general direction of her desk, then withdrew a small packet and lobbed it at her. She recognized what she held at nearly the moment she caught it. “Verveine soap!”
“Too girly for you?”
Her throat tightened. This wasn’t a gift for an uptight, staid type. It was a gift that spoke to her heart.
“Verveine is my favorite. How’d you know?” She turned the package and read the handwriting on the brown paper, which described the soap as handmade, organic verbena soap from France. The fresh, light scent made it obvious this wasn’t a cheap, grocery store bar, but one that had been made with pride, in small batches. It reminded her of springtime walks in the hills of Sarcaccia or southern France. Of nosing around tiny European shops that had been owned by the same families for generations, and o
f meeting craftsmen who spoke with passion about their ingredients and methods.
“I asked Sophia what she’d take to a remote island, one with no luxuries.” He shot a look at the box. “There’s more soap, plus plenty of lotion, shampoo, and conditioner. Enough to share with everyone. I had the shop add a few other items they thought you could use. Of course, Miss Economics, if you’d prefer back copies of The Economist, I’m sure it could be arranged.”
She raised the bar to her nose and closed her eyes. Heaven. “Much as I love a good opinion piece on supply-side economics, this is too decadent to resist. Just smelling it makes me feel spoiled. Thank you.”
“After a long day with the kids, the adults here deserve to spoil themselves a bit. You, especially.”
A tender note in his voice made her look at him, but he quickly averted his gaze to dig through the box. “Ah, good for the shop. This should make you feel pampered after a long day.”
He pulled out a sumptuous white robe, sized for a woman, complete with a waist tie for modesty and a hood for warmth, then withdrew a pink card that had been packed on top. Frannie recognized the logo at the top before Alessandro mentioned the name.
“It says there are more being shipped separately, compliments of the shop owner’s cousin, who’s a bedding designer based in Nice. Apparently, he just came out with a line of robes and wanted you to have some of the first. There will be a separate shipment soon arriving with one for each of the shelter’s employees. Even the men.” Alessandro’s eyes lit with delight. “Can you imagine Tommy lounging in a fluffy robe like this?”
She couldn’t believe the lavishness of it. Islanders weren’t familiar with this level of luxury, even before the tsunami. The nearest place to buy robes like these would be in one of the fancy shops in Australia or New Zealand. Even if they could travel there, no one on the island had money to blow on such an extravagance. “These are too much, Your Highness. I couldn’t possibly…we couldn’t possibly—”
His brow furrowed. “We’re back to Your Highness? I thought I was Alessandro here at the shelter.”
“This isn’t a run-of-the-mill bedding designer. Most people here couldn’t afford one of his pillowcases. He may be the shop owner’s cousin, but he’s a household name.”
“It’s a gift. Accept it in the spirit in which it’s given.”
Frannie set the soap on her desk and met Alessandro’s look of consternation with a steady gaze. She hadn’t intended to put his title between them, but in this instance it was probably a good thing. “You know there wouldn’t be pricey robes if it weren’t for the fact a member of the Barrali royal family placed the order for the soap. The robes aren’t for the benefit of the shelter, but to impress you.”
“I doubt that’s true. There are always kind people who want to help where they can. If a high-end designer wants contribute by making those who do the hard work at a shelter more comfortable, why not?”
“Alessandro, you know I’m right. Why would he—”
He waved the pink card in exasperation before dropping it into the box. “If he did it because he wants to gain my future business, is that so bad? Companies give away free samples all the time in the hopes they’ll gain new customers.”
She took a step toward him and fingered the plush fabric of the robe. She didn’t hide the doubt in her tone as she pointed out, “Freebies are rarely the equivalent of a month’s worth of meals.”
“Frannie.” His voice was soft, pleading. “It’s a small thing, given all you do. For all everyone here does. It’ll make the designer feel good to know his robes are being worn all the way in Kilakuru.”
“It would feel wrong to me. I can’t possibly—”
“Yes, you can. He wouldn’t have sent them if he didn’t want you to have them.” Alessandro placed the robe in her hands. Standing this close, she could see the pattern of gold flecks in his soft brown eyes…eyes that searched hers with an intensity that made her throat constrict. “Yes, it’s luxurious. Yes, it feels out of place to have something so pleasurable in a place that’s seen so much heartbreak and horror. That’s what life is, though, isn’t it? Finding the joy in every situation and appreciating it? Accept this. Take joy in it. It hurts no one. Next time my mother replaces bedding in the palace, I’ll suggest she order from him, all right?”
Frannie let out a long, slow breath. Maybe this was a lesson she needed to learn. “All right. But I want to send a thank you note to the designer. And to the soap shop.”
“Of course.”
“And thank you, Alessandro.” She curled the robe to her chest. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. This is extremely kind. Not just the soaps and the games and the kaleidoscopes, but that you thought of doing all of this in the first place.”
“You haven’t seen the laundry detergent yet. Or the ice packs and first aid supplies. I’ll have you falling at my feet for those.” His tone was deliberately provocative. “And I can only imagine Chloe’s reaction if I were to whip out a roll of bandages and—”
“Don’t you dare!”
His eyes widened a notch, then amusement settled in.
“Uh-oh. Are you worried I might flirt with Chloe?”
Frannie could smack herself. She was never the type to speak without thinking. She tried to cover with a lighthearted, “I didn’t mean—”
“You’re afraid I’ll kiss her under the nursery school’s art wall the way I kissed you under the Morisot.”
Her mouth went bone dry at the suggestion. “Alessandro.”
His name emerged in a rasp so breathless she didn’t dare continue. She suspected anything she said would only dig her into a deeper hole.
“Or…is it that you think I’m flirting with you? By giving you a robe, soap, and other” —he stepped closer— “intimate items?”
The seriousness in his tone rooted her in place, affecting her as powerfully as when she’d witnessed the moonlight striking his bare torso earlier. Her breath turned to lead in her lungs. Why was he doing this to her? “Are you?”
Chapter 9
He let her question hang in the air for a long beat, then another. Frannie thought she’d go out of her skin. She should’ve changed the subject. Backed away. Asked an entirely different question.
“You’re still learning the difference between altruism and attraction.” A muscle at the corner of his mouth jumped, then he straightened. “In this case, I’m making sure you’re cared for. Just as you’ve been caring for me.”
She forced herself to exhale slowly. “That’s kind of you to say, but I haven’t been caring for you. Telling you what to do, sure, but I tell everyone here what to do. It’s my job.”
He shook his head, though his expression remained serious and his gaze locked with hers. “I had only a vague notion of what to expect when I arrived. You made sure I had a comfortable bed and quiet during my first week so I could adjust. You gave me important details on everyone’s background so I’d know the best way to make friends. You told Irene to help me if I needed it during homework time—don’t deny it, I know you did—and when you introduced me, you did so in a manner that ensured neither the kids nor the adults would treat me differently due to my heritage. That’s taking care of me. I appreciate it. No one’s done that for me before. Not like you have.”
Never in a million years would she have expected such a speech from Alessandro. From Vittorio, sure. Vittorio was the epitome of graciousness and always knew the right thing to say to make those around him feel valued.
Coming from Alessandro…the rarity of such a compliment made it more meaningful.
And, to her endless frustration, made her want to reach out, cup his cheek in her palm, and pull his mouth to hers.
“You’re supposed to say thank you,” he prodded.
Her face heated. “Thank you.”
“People should compliment you more often. You’d handle it better.”
He’d left her so dumbfounded, she merely clutched the robe and stared at him instead
of responding. Then again, better not to respond at all than to kiss him. She managed a small smile. “I’ll endeavor to express my gratitude more appropriately.”
Her stomach seized as he continued to hold her gaze. He had to realize how the expression on his face—one that was both appreciative and piercing in its intensity—would affect her. If this wasn’t flirting, she wasn’t sure what was.
“You’ll…endeavor to express your gratitude?” His mouth split into a grin as if she’d told a colossal joke. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
In an effort to take the tension down a notch, she directed a glance at the open box and asked, “What was it that had you so anxious to open the boxes? I assume you didn’t forgo a bit of joy for yourself.”
“Never.” His smile had the very devil in it as he spun to reach inside the box. Frannie took the opportunity to turn away from him and set the robe on the seat of her chair. Her cheeks still burned and it galled her that Alessandro elicited such a reaction with nothing more than a look or a teasing reminder to say thank you.
She was as bad as the women who fawned over him at every public event in Sarcaccia. If he realized how easily he affected her, he’d probably consider her equally airheaded. Or as easily manipulated. Sophia had complained to Frannie more than once that Alessandro could get a woman to do anything he wished with nothing more than a look. The princess considered it an affront to the intelligence of all women.
He’d been the epitome of respectability since his arrival on Kilakuru. On the other hand, he’d proven he wasn’t above attempting to manipulate her that afternoon in the library.
She wished she knew which was the real Alessandro, the true personality beneath the can’t-look-away physique and devastating charm.
“Here we go. Heaven. Care to share?”
She took a calming breath, then spun and raised her gaze to his. Alessandro held two bottles aloft, one in each hand. “There are more where these came from,” he said. “I figured six would do. Not one of them arrived broken, which is a miracle.”
The Wicked Prince Page 9