Finding Chris Evans: The Royal Edition

by Jennifer Chance

  Sudden wariness skated through Cristopoulis’s stomach, but he couldn’t help but ask. “He plays—soccer?” he asked, as casually as he could manage. “I didn’t think Americans went in much for that.”

  Jake snorted. “We don’t. Especially not up here in Minnesota, where it’s God’s country for football and hockey. But the kids get into soccer, and you can find a following in the bigger cities. You’re Greek, right? Italy—somewhere in that area?”

  Cristopoulis didn’t mind the bald question, delivered as it was with such frank openness. “I’m from Garronia, actually—a small country near Greece. Something else not many Americans know.”

  “Long way away,” Jake said. “You enjoying Minnesota? Dad said you’d been out on our North Woods expeditions a time or two.”

  The question seemed once again artlessly probing, and Cristopoulis glanced at Jake. The man appeared a little too nervous. “I’ve enjoyed my stay very much. I’ll be leaving soon, I’m afraid, but it’s beautiful country.”

  “Oh! Oh, okay then.” Jake scowled, and Cristopoulis finally gave him his full attention.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Donaldson?”

  “Sorry,” Jake grimaced. “I’m not handling this well at all, but Dad sent me out here on a tear and I never was good at that spy shit.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s why I live in Minnesota, for God’s sake.”

  Before Cristopoulis could ask him to explain, Jake shrugged. “Dad’s been trying to buy that inn from the Werths since the old man died, but LeeAnn’s father would have none of it, and then LeeAnn showed up and has done such a bang-up job, it seemed too rude to push. But he saw you with LeeAnn, and you’re clearly not from around here and he thought maybe you two were, you know, an item, and—well, he’s a greedy son of a gun.” Jake’s smile softened his words, his love for his father plain. “He immediately put two and two together and came up with six.”

  “He wishes to buy Werth Inn?” Cristopoulis asked mildly, not wanting to act on LeeAnn’s behalf. Still, he couldn’t deny the weird surge of hope that skittered through him—and it wasn’t even his property. “He should ask. As the saying goes, everyone has his price.” He lifted his plate to Jake. “Make sure he knows about the antiques barn, though.”

  Jake’s brows climbed up his forehead. “Antiques barn?”

  “Is your grandfather still alive?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jake grinned. “Pops refuses to die. Refuses even to get sick, crotchety old geezer. We have him in one of the cabins on the lake, and the kids take turns getting their ears talked off by him.”

  Cristopoulis thought about the chatter that had gone on between LeeAnn’s father and Jake’s father. If his experiences with his own family were any indication, chances were good that kind of friendly rivalry extended beyond one generation. “Ask him about the Werth antiques, maybe a motorcycle from Italy, see what he says.”

  Jake’s eyes went wide. “I’ll do that,” he said, then he fixed Cristopoulis with a hard stare. “You sure we haven’t met already?”

  “I’m sure,” Cristopoulis said. It was his turn to exit stage right.

  He found LeeAnn at the fire, and his steps slowed as he took in the sight of her, backed by the glowing flame. He realized he’d never seen her this way, in all the months he’d been at the inn. She’d always been running this way and that, caring for everyone else’s needs but her own. She’d worn sensible dresses and sensible shoes, her hair tied back or piled on her head. Her smile always at the ready, her eyes always alight with caring.

  But here, tonight, she could be any young woman in any city, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her dress soft and feminine, her expression gentle as she gazed dreamily over the water. He was at her side in another moment, and she glanced up at him.

  The look in her eyes took his breath away.

  It was so open, so delighted, as if him simply coming back was the best gift he could’ve given her, and he’d only been gone a short while. What would it be like to walk into the gaze of such a woman every day, he found himself wondering. What would it be like to have his heart feel so light, his own smile so easy on his face?

  She took the plate from him and he realized he was standing there stupidly, but he didn’t care.

  “What in the world did you get us?” LeeAnn asked bemusedly, and he glanced down at the plate. There were probably twenty-seven potato wedges piled there, and nothing else. She burst out laughing. “Do they not have potatoes in Garronia?” she asked. “Because surely you’ve gotten enough of them while you’ve been here.”

  “There are many things we have in Garronia, but we do not have potatoes covered in this much cheese,” Cristopoulis said defensively, lifting a wedge in defiance. “We do not have so much chili, either. You should not mock.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it,” LeeAnn said, the dimples on either side of her mouth deepening as she struggled not to laugh. “What do you have in Garronia, then, since there’s a decided lack of comfort foods?”

  He put down the potato wedge and looked at her, the words he wanted to speak so right, so natural that he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. Suddenly, LeeAnn’s hands were in his, and her eyes widened as he spoke.

  “We have sunsets that seem to last for an eternity,” he said, “lighting up the Aegean Sea. A sky filled with a million stars—like your northern stars, but with the warmth of summer all year round. We have steep rocky cliffs sweeping down to the sea, white beaches that stretch for miles, and music and laughter and love. Most especially love.” He sat back, squeezing her hands gently. “That is what’s waiting for you in Garronia, LeeAnn, should you ever wish to fly.”

  Chapter Five

  LeeAnn marched up the steps to the carriage house, her mind whirling. Since Cris’s impromptu declaration at the North Woods Resort, the whole evening had floated by in a dream. He’d spoken of love, but of course he hadn’t really meant love-love, not like the love between two people, people like her and him. That would be crazy, and she didn’t do crazy. She was an innkeeper in Minnesota. The closest she got to crazy was a snowstorm in May.

  Cris had walked her up the stairs, and was even now on the porch, deferentially standing back. He was there simply to ensure she made it safely into her house, she knew. And yet…

  And yet.

  “Thank you so much for tonight,” she said turning to gaze up at him. “It was perfect. Everything I could have wanted.”

  “Everything?” he asked.

  “Well, maybe not everything.” Emboldened by the look in his eyes, she lifted up on her toes, stretching toward him. He leaned forward and their lips met, the touch so right, so perfect that LeeAnn’s hands seemed to lift of their own volition to trace the edges of his suit lapels, even as Cris’s hands settled on her waist.

  He deepened the kiss, then moved her across the porch another step, until her back connected with the smooth plane of the door. She blinked her eyes open, dizzy as he leaned away from her. “You’re satisfied now?” he rumbled, searching her eyes.

  LeeAnn didn’t care that his words brought a blush to her cheeks. She knew what she had to do, and she would do it. The paperwork was on her kitchen counter, and she’d called a broker earlier that day regarding the bike. She could put down more money on the lease option, possibly even own the inn’s lodge house outright in another ten years.

  Her father and grandfather would be so happy, if they’d lived long enough to see it.

  But that was for tomorrow. Tonight was for all the what-ifs she’d never entertained, all the chances she’d almost but not quite taken. Tonight was for the stars that stretched across the sky, stars that extended all the way to Garronia and back. Tonight was for flying away.

  “Not yet,” she said, and she turned then, fitting the key into the lock. When the door swung open, Cris pushed it further, entering the house with her. She’d come back home thousands of times since she’d moved into the carriage house without any fear of intruders, but she found she didn’t mind
his protective frown as he scanned the shadowed interior.

  She also didn’t move to turn on a light. He didn’t either.

  “Where were we?” he murmured, and gathered her into his arms.

  The second kiss was nothing like the first. Where on the porch Cris had been tentative, now he was intense, almost urgent, half pushing LeeAnn toward the couch until she sank back into its soft cushions. When she thought he would tumble down with her, he dropped to his knees. His face was now even with hers, his eyes intent. “What do you want, LeeAnn?” he asked roughly. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

  “This.” She leaned up toward him and brushed her lips over his, even as her hands shifted, connecting with the lapels of his suit. It was unbuttoned, and she pushed the jacket over his shoulders easily. “This.”

  Cris let her peel the jacket away, and every muscle in his upper body appeared taut as her hands went to the buttons of his shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tee shirt underneath, and each loosed button revealed more of his skin—skin she realized she’d never seen before, though the inn had a pool. She’d always been too busy, too distracted to look.

  She wasn’t distracted now.

  Cris watched her silently as she pulled the shirt free of his trousers, letting the tails hang loose as her fingers closed around the fine leather belt at his waist. His skin smelled of warm cinnamon, and she wanted more than anything to close her eyes and revel in the sheer sensation of him being here, with her. But she refused to let a second of this pass without memorizing it with every sense at her disposal.

  “LeeAnn,” he whispered, and she moved her gaze up his knotted abs, the heavy planes of his chest tensing. His jaw was knotted too. She hadn’t moved her hands from his belt, however, and she realized that belatedly by the time she met his eyes.

  “Sorry,” she managed, but when she tried to loosen her grip, he stopped her with the touch of his own hands.

  “Don’t be.” His voice was low, rough, and his gaze held hers possessively. “I only want to know how far you wish to take this. If I don’t ask now, I won’t think to ask later, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh.” At his words LeeAnn’s heart practically shivered, the need spiking within her so naked that she couldn’t form an intelligent response. Something in her expression must have betrayed her, however, because Cris’s smile deepened.

  “Good,” he said. Leaning forward, he captured her lips with his once more in a short, hard kiss. Then he pulled away and stood, peeling off his shirt and throwing it to the coffee table. He held out his hand. “I suspect your bedroom has a commanding view of the lake, no?”

  “The lake and the courtyard—it’s the top floor, one big room.” She took his hand and let him draw her to her feet, her fluster mitigated by the fact that he turned to the stairs so he couldn’t see her face. What am I doing? What must he think of me?

  He didn’t seem to mind, that was certain. Instead he moved toward the stairs with purpose, his upper body lithe and strong. There were several small scars trailing down one shoulder, but otherwise his back was as perfect as the rest of him.

  They climbed the stairs in silence, and at the top, he pivoted. “I think you’re overdressed.” He stepped back, surveying her critically. “You look wrapped up, but that’s an illusion, I think—no, don’t tell me.”

  LeeAnn’s cheeks flared as he circled her. Her dress was one piece—one. It shimmied over her head without the benefit of even a zipper. When she’d finally settled on wearing it, she hadn’t been thinking of removing it with an audience.

  “Ah, I have it,” he said from behind her. “Stay very still. This view is spectacular.”

  LeeAnn’s gaze lifted, confused. They weren’t facing either of the large windows of the loft space, but the center wall—which held her dresser-wide mirror. As she stood motionless, Cris pulled her dress up inch by sensual inch, baring her legs, then her hips. As he moved her dress upward, he watched her in the mirror, his gaze so intent that his eyes practically gleamed despite the shadowed room.

  “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured. “Lift your arms.”

  Once she did, he pulled the dress upward and over her arms in one quick swoosh, but didn’t give LeeAnn any time to be self-conscious in her bra and matching panties—another decision she’d not given any thought to, but one that made her intensely relieved all the same.

  Cris turned her in his arms, and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her mouth soundly. “Now it seems I’m overdressed,” he said.

  Her hands dropped to his belt as if coming home. “Let me see what I can do about that.”

  A moment later, Cris’s buttery-soft trousers fell to the thick rug, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. When LeeAnn reached for them, though, he laughed.

  “No, you have to let me savor this a moment more,” he said. He pulled her over to the bed then eased both of them onto it. Then he paused a moment, staring down at her.

  Seeing the expression on Cris’s face was one of those moments that LeeAnn knew she would treasure for the rest of her life. He was strong and intense, his arms braced on either side of her shoulders, his muscular torso taut. But it was his eyes that held her in thrall, dark and mysterious in the light of the moon through the windows, staring at her as if she was his whole world.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, then covered her mouth with his.

  Cristopoulis was going to explode like a teenager with his first girlfriend if he didn’t knock himself down a few pegs. But he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t been exaggerating—LeeAnn had somehow become the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and not simply because she was here, soft and in his arms…

  Although that certainly helped.

  He snaked his hand around LeeAnn’s back and loosened her bra, trying not to wrench it off her body. Her full breasts filled his hands perfectly, and her tiny gasp of pleasure as he palmed their weight might as well have been a blowtorch against the end of a very short fuse. Cristopoulis groaned, rocking against her body. Though they were still separated by the thinnest of fabrics, the intimate touch made him grit his teeth.

  LeeAnn didn’t help matters by arching beneath him, as if she could somehow bring herself closer still.

  He tried centering himself, but there was no way that was going to work. This wasn’t a time for meditation, so he fell back on the training he’d ground into his head first in Garronia’s military, then on the football field.

  That wasn’t much more successful. Need formed an angry knot of purpose in his gut, and he was already rigid with desire, the promise of LeeAnn’s soft heat enough to send every thought of moderation flying. He bent into her, nuzzling the base of her neck where her pulse jumped erratically. If ever there was an indication that she wanted this as much as he did, he had it in that pulse.

  And if any doubt remained, LeeAnn’s cool, strong hands sliding down his waist to cup his ass was another indicator.

  “You’re so strong,” she marveled, and it took him a moment to track her words. “I mean, I knew you were strong but it’s like—it’s like you spend your life in the gym.” She paused. “Only we don’t have an onsite gym here.”

  He didn’t trust himself to look at her, lest she catch the lie in his eyes. “I run,” he said dismissively. “And you don’t need a gym. You have the woods.”

  “Yes, but—oh.” Whatever LeeAnn was going to say was cut off as he moved his attention to her right breast, his mouth closing around the straining peak of her nipple as his left hand caressed her other breast. The dual attack made her go boneless beneath him, and Cristopoulis smiled, fierce with the knowledge that he was making her relax like this, he was making her arch with feminine satisfaction. Him, and no one else.

  He liked the sound of that.

  Moving quickly, he traced a fiery line of kisses down the curve of LeeAnn’s abs, until he reached the edge of her black silk panties. He was well beyond asking permission at this point, but she misread hi
s hesitation and hooked her own thumbs in the delicate fabric. “Yes,” she whispered.

  She didn’t need to tell him twice. He pulled the silky cloth down almost viciously, then rolled away from the bed only long enough to remove his own boxers and slick on the condom he’d freed from his trouser pocket. By the time he returned to LeeAnn, she was up on her elbows, staring at him with a look of such intense need that he felt the rush of desire crash into him again, spinning him toward climax before he’d even touched the woman.

  “You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered and then he was on her again, pushing her back against the heavy cotton sheets, sinking into the plush mattress as she giggled. The sound of her laughter freed him, as it always did, and so did the new softness of her sigh when he lifted his body over hers. LeeAnn’s bright eyes met his with a mixture of defiance, relief and anticipation, and he knew exactly how she felt.

  He nudged into her, smiling as she blinked rapidly at the sensual intrusion. But even through the thin shield of protection he could feel her damp heat as he eased slowly inside. She wanted this, she wanted him. She’d have him too, if he had anything to say about it. For as long as they both could last.

  Another inch, though, and he knew he wouldn’t be lasting long this first time, that was for sure. Especially when LeeAnn mimicked her move from earlier and placed her hands on his ass, then pulled him closer.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut as he sank another inch inside her. “That feels so good.”

  Her face had been transformed by pure pleasure, and it was all Cristopoulis could do to hold onto the thin thread of his control. He moved against her, their natural rhythm taking over, and his eyes widened. Perhaps if he stared hard enough, he could see more of LeeAnn, see into her. Understand how she worked, how she loved. What she wanted most in the world and what she’d do to get it.