A Royal Mess and Her Knight To Remember

by Jill Shalvis

  “Did you forget who’s the cop here?”

  “So you’re one of those guys who have a problem with strong women—”

  “I most definitely do not have a problem with women, strong or otherwise.”

  His voice had gone low and dangerously soft. Sort of the way her father’s got when he was really close to losing his temper.

  She had a feeling seeing this man blow his lid would be quite a show, but they didn’t have time for that right now.

  A fact that was reiterated when another bullet hit the panel, again piercing the back wall above their heads and echoing throughout their small confines.

  She put her hands over her ears at the same time he reached for her, covering her body with his.

  “You have to stop doing that,” she said against his chest.

  Against his really hard chest. She wondered if he had a smattering of dark hair across it or if he was smooth—

  “Shut up. Please,” he begged. “Just shut up and let me rescue you.”

  “I’ll rescue myself.”

  “This is a nightmare. You’re a nightmare.”

  She’d heard that before. “Just bend down and let me get on your shoulders. Do it quick before another bullet tears into us.”

  He stared at her, then shook his head. “This isn’t some great adventure, you get that, right?”

  “Of course—”

  “Because I don’t think you realize that if Jimmy gets smart and gets upstairs before us, and your pretty little neck appears first, he’s not going to drop his gun, give you a hand, and help you out.”

  “Well—”

  “Unless, of course, you do exactly that.”

  “What?”

  “That.” His eyes remained on her face, but his voice changed again. Silky soft now. Very silky soft.

  And she was clueless. “Do…what?”

  “Pop a nipple out of your dress.”

  3

  BECAUSE HE COULDN’T handle looking at her for another second, Kyle turned his back. Counted to ten. Calculated complicated algebra problems in his head.

  Didn’t matter. He could still picture her nipple poking out from the top of her dress. Perfectly rose-colored and perky. Perfect size for a man’s mouth.

  He was a man. A typical red-blooded man. With sex now firmly on the brain despite the fact that they were on the run from a bad guy with a gun.

  Damn it.

  “Sorry.”

  This from behind him, in that voice that somehow screamed innocence and sex all at the same time.

  “I haven’t had my dress fitted yet,” she said amongst the rustling of her dress. “And—”

  “It’s okay,” he said to the wall. No way could he look at her and hold eye contact. Nope, his gaze had a mind of its own suddenly, run by the boss between his legs, and it wouldn’t be able to hold back from taking another look to see if she’d managed to cover herself.

  “I couldn’t wear a bra with it because—”

  “It’s okay,” he repeated, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to think of something else, anything other than how absolutely delectable her nipple had been.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said in what he thought was a remarkably casual voice. “To do that, I need to concentrate. And to do that, I need you to be really, really quiet. Can you do that one little thing, do you think?” He risked a look at her.

  Her eyes narrowed. Her mouth opened. Then closed.

  “Good girl,” he said.

  “I’m not a girl. I’m a grown woman.”

  He knew his eyes went hot, knew his voice sounded low and husky, but he couldn’t help it. “I realize that.”

  “Do you? Do you realize there’s no need to be rude? Just because your manhood feels threatened by me suggesting you might need my help—”

  His manhood didn’t feel threatened so much as…horny. “I don’t need your help—” He broke off when another bullet tore into the control panel, getting ensnared high in the corner this time. Not forgetting to save her ungrateful hide, Kyle drew her down into the corner yet again.

  They stayed that way for a moment, until he realized how still she’d become. Damn. She’d probably, finally, gone into shock.

  But then she shoved him off her, stood and hiked up her dress, revealing a pair of long, toned legs in thigh-high stockings rimmed with lace, held there by a simple white, devastatingly sexy garter belt.

  His jaw dropped. “What—” His voice cracked like a teenager and he tried again. “What are you doing?”

  “Did you see that? The direction of the bullet entry?”

  Yes, damn it, he had. Jimmy was still below them.

  “I’m safe going first.” She put her lifted skirt between her teeth. Then she shoved not one, not two, but three hoops down her legs. Stepping out of them with a sigh, she took her skirt in her hands.

  Rip.

  Okay, she’d succumbed to the stress. He’d never actually seen it happen, but had heard of such things. She was going to tear off her dress and go running naked through the streets. Maybe even sexually attack him. He had to stop her, help her, but good God, he’d gotten a quick glimpse of barely there white-lace panties. Just a tiny little wisp of material between her legs, hardly covering—

  With one last rip, she straightened and tossed aside miles of material, leaving her with the form-fitting bodice of the dress still in place, but the wild skirt was completely subdued and laying nicely against her body to midthigh.

  “There,” she said. “Better. Now… You need to lift me up to get us out of here.” Without another word, she walked behind him and lifted her hands to his shoulders.

  “Say pretty please with sugar on top,” she breathed in his ear, “and I’ll be sure to pause at the top to give you a hand.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Boost me up.”

  “But…” What had just happened? Here he was, poised to fight off her sexual advances, but she hadn’t jumped his bones at all.

  “Come on,” she said, pushing on his shoulders. “Up.”

  So that’s how he found himself putting his hands over hers to steady her and going to his knees.

  Helping her to his shoulders should have been a breeze, but by the time she’d plastered her chest to his upper back, then climbed up his body, rubbing her breasts against the back of his neck, panting in his ear, pausing for balance, he was sweating again.

  “Okay,” she said, balanced on his shoulders, still holding his hands. “I’m ready.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Just lift me up.”

  He had a moment to think again about how amazing she really was. How she was together and perfectly willing to pitch in to save their lives. That she was also annoying and bad tempered went without saying. Maybe it was her way of showing shock.

  Her toes dug into his shoulders. They were bare of polish but she had a silver ring on the second toe of her left foot. Her hands in his remained cool and steady, and as he straightened, so did she, in perfect balance, reaching for the panel above them.

  “Nice and easy,” he said, sliding his hands from her ankles to her calves for extra support, then farther up the backs of her legs to hold her low on her thighs.

  He knew, or his brain knew, that now wasn’t really the time to enjoy the soft, smooth silkiness of her stocking-covered legs, but it wasn’t his brain running the show at the moment.

  “Nice and easy has its place,” she said breathlessly. “But not here.” Grunting, she manhandled the middle panel aside. Another grunt and she started to pull herself through the hatch above the elevator.

  Kyle made the mistake of looking up.

  Directly beneath her dress. With the help of his hands on her, she used her muscles to rise. He watched her legs strain, tremble. Watched her perfectly rounded butt clench.

  And because he was watching where he shouldn’t, he didn’t see her foot kick out for purchase and find his face until stars exploded in his head
.

  By the time he could see again, she was gone. Completely gone.

  “Hey,” he whispered, panicked. Damn, he’d known better. He’d sent her, an innocent, no matter how irritating and sexy and brave, directly into the hands of Jimmy.

  Then her face appeared in the hole above. “What’s taking you so long?”

  He was so weak he nearly stumbled back against the wall of the elevator. “You’re okay.”

  “Of course I’m okay. Hey, cop man, hurry up, will you?”

  He tore off his jacket, shoved up his sleeves and leaped up, but couldn’t quite reach the top of the elevator.

  “Hang on,” she said, then vanished. She reappeared a moment later to toss down a large empty box. “I got this from the second-floor hallway. We’re only a few feet short of that floor. Be quick, I think I hear him coming.”

  “Be quick,” he muttered to himself, using the box as leverage, grabbing on to the opening to pull himself up.

  “Took you long enough,” she said in lieu of a greeting, waiting with barely contained impatience.

  Kyle’s fingers itched with an overwhelming desire to reach out and put his hands around her neck. “I’m here now.”

  “Good job,” she whispered, absently patting his shoulder, as if he was an idiot. As if she was the one in charge. As if he was her burden. “Now stick with me.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re sticking with me or I’ll leave you here as bait. Got it? Good. Now I’ll lead, so move over.”

  She blinked at him in surprise and he felt like a jerk.

  Hell, he was a jerk. What had happened to his legendary patience? “I’m sorry. Please move over.”

  Not surprisingly, she thrust up that chin again. “Saying please when you’re still being a bully, does not make it okay.” And with that, she took the lead and crawled through the space out into a dark hallway. Then she craned her neck to peek at him, her finger to her lips, because clearly he couldn’t be trusted to know when to shut up.

  “Wait.” He was supposed to lead. He was saving her.

  But she didn’t wait, and it occurred to him, he’d never followed before. He didn’t like that, or the fact that she was moving too fast, too recklessly. Surely she was going to fall and break her pretty little neck, or at the very least, alert Jimmy to their location. Reaching out, he grabbed her ankle and tugged.

  And tugged.

  “I said wait,” he said into her ear when he’d pulled her to him. He had all that gold hair and sweet, sexy scent tangling his brain cells now. “Get behind me.”

  “Fine.” Now her jaw was all bunchy. “But let’s climb up to the third floor,” she said.

  He hated to admit that it was the logical thing to do. Going down was a bad idea, at least until reinforcements came. “Okay, back into the elevator shaft, to the third floor,” he agreed. “Me first.” He was fairly certain Jimmy wasn’t smart enough to locate them, but if he did, Kyle wanted to be out front. “Did you hear me?”

  “How can I help but hear you? You’re yelling in my ear.”

  “Yeah, yeah…” He moved to crawl past her, his big body brushing against her much smaller one, and he was simultaneously bombarded with sensations. Temper and heat.

  Temper and need.

  But mostly just temper.

  ANNIE DEALT with her own temper. “So who is this guy anyway?” she asked as they climbed. “Someone you’ve won over with all your considerable charm and wit?”

  He stopped to send her a dry look. “He’s the punk nephew of a mobster I just helped put away.”

  “Interesting life you lead.” They’d gone about five feet up, when she stopped.

  She sniffed and went still. “I smell smoke, cop man.”

  “Pull your shirt over your nose and keep climbing. We’ll get out on the third floor, find the stairs and come back down,” came the terse reply.

  So much for comforting platitudes. She was climbing as fast as she could, which was pretty damn fast. Good thing she had an affinity for climbing. All her tree scaling and climbing walls or whatever she could get her hands on since she could walk, had come in handy today.

  But the smoke burned her lungs, and she fought the urge to cough.

  “I said cover your mouth,” he said.

  “I don’t have a shirt.”

  “Then don’t breathe,” he said gruffly, and encouraged her to follow with a sharp tug on her wrist.

  That was another thing about him, this soon-to-be-married cop. He kept touching her.

  She wondered if his wife-to-be knew he had a thing with touching.

  It wasn’t often that she was touched, period. People in her country respected their royals, and kept a distance. She had her father, once a warm, loving man, but he’d lost much of his zest for life after her mother had died twelve years before. She had her sisters, when they weren’t fighting.

  Few others had been allowed to touch Annie, though there had been the occasional affair during her naive days, back when she believed there was a man for her out there somewhere. Once in a while she dreamed about that still, a man’s hands on her. Solid and sure and arousing.

  But the dreams had turned out to be better than reality.

  The smoke was thicker now. She let out a cough, her lungs starting to feel squeezed.

  “You okay?” He patted his hand between her shoulder blades, but she kept coughing, mostly because he didn’t seem to know his own strength. “Damn, Pink, keep your lungs in your chest.” Without a care for the loaned shirt on his back, he ripped it off, tearing the thing in half with his bare hands. He put one half over her face, before he covered his mouth with the other half.

  Their eyes met, and she saw the frantic concern in his, so she nodded, then continued shimmying up the narrow hatch.

  At the top, he held her back, making sure he was the first one out into what she feared would be an open hallway, making them easy targets.

  But the third floor was some sort of warehouse, filled to the brim with huge storage containers the size of wardrobes, each probably filled with more torturous dresses. And while containers provided cover for them, they also provided that same cover to Jimmy.

  Her cop—sooner or later she’d have to stop thinking of him as hers—reached down, grabbed her hand and pulled her up. For a moment, their bodies collided and he held her still, looking her over.

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  “You’re amazing, is what you are.” He moved to a window and carefully peered out, leaving her with the most incredible view of his now bare, sleek back. “At least five black-and-whites down there. That’s the good news.”

  “And the bad?”

  He moved away from the window. “Until Jimmy is caught or gives himself up, we’re on the third floor of a possibly burning building, the hostages of a wild idiot with a gun. Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “Out of ideas, are you?” He guided her to the west wall, where there was a door.

  “Stairs?”

  “Shh.” He put his ear to it, then his hand.

  She wrestled with the urge to put her ear and hand and everything else against his bare back.

  Taken, she reminded herself. He’s taken. “Let’s go out the window,” she suggested. “The cops can cover us.”

  “Unless you’re Spider Woman, bad idea. There’s no fire escape.”

  “No, but we can shimmy down the storm drain.”

  He stared at her. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Cops aren’t the only ones with nerves of steel,” she said. “Try being a princess.”

  “What?”

  “You want a formal introduction?” She curtsied, not an easy move in her cut-off dress. “Your Serene Highness Andrea Katrine Fran Brunner of Grunberg, at your service. But the at-your-service part is just a formality, you understand. I’m not really at your ser—”

  “You hit your head in the elevator, right?”

  “I came here for the wedding.” She tried not to sound bitter about
that, because really, just because he was big, strong and gorgeous didn’t mean she wanted him for herself. Nope. He was too stubborn, too confident, too…everything. “You can just call me Annie, if that’s easier.”

  “Annie.” He was looking at her as if she was from Mars.

  “I’m telling you the truth. Grunberg is a perfectly nice little country, right next to Switzerland.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Oh, forget it.” She turned away, but he grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t you want to know who I am?” he asked, sounding a little surprised that she wasn’t panting with the need to know his name.

  “I already know who you are.” She didn’t want to hear him say he was going to get married. Not when he was the first man to stir her in a very long time.

  No, wait, she wasn’t stirred. She wasn’t anything but sick and tired of this dress. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, suddenly very weary. “Before I start screaming and never stop.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, as if not quite certain she wouldn’t do exactly that.

  “I’m not going to fall apart,” she said.

  “You’d be entitled.”

  “A princess doesn’t fall apart.” At least not until she was safe, and he was far, far away.

  4

  THE WAREHOUSE was a bit of a mystery. For someone of Annie’s stature—that is short—it wasn’t possible to see the entire room at once. Which, given the circumstances, was disturbing to say the least. “We need a better plan,” she said, gaze searching, hoping Jimmy wasn’t up here with them.

  He was a cool one, her cop—no, he wasn’t hers. She needed to remember that. But she had begun to think of him as such the moment he’d actually let her lead the way onto the elevator, because in her life how many men had let her lead?

  Exactly none.

  Not that she’d been neglected. The opposite, really. She’d been pampered and sheltered and protected, even when it wasn’t in her nature to hide behind someone. No, her nature was to come out fists swinging. “I think we should—”