by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"You're probably tired after taking care of me," he replied. "Maybe you should take the next couple of days off.
We've been working long hours. A break will do you good."
She agreed, but that didn't mean she could take any time off. They were snowed in, for heaven's sake! She didn't even want to think what would happen if she didn't have her work to distract her from this crazy attraction she had developed for him. "I can't," she replied. "You don't know Simon. He gets a little paranoid when he doesn't hear from me. Knowing him, he's already called out the national guard. If I don't have more done by the time the phone lines are open, I'm going to be toast."
She turned her attention back to her computer, and he thankfully let her return to her work and didn't try to continue the conversation. And for a few minutes, she was actually able to string several decent sentences together. Then Lorenzo tried to get out of bed.
"What are you doing?" she cried when he pushed to his feet and stood there swaying like a reed in the wind. Jumping up, she rushed to his side, scolding him all the while. "If you need something, you should have asked me to get it for you. Get back in bed right this minute before you hurt yourself!"
"I need to take a shower," he said, ignoring her, and taking a step toward the bathroom.
If she hadn't been there, he would have fallen flat on his face. He stumbled, then staggered against her, and in the next moment, they were in each other's arms. Startled, they both froze.
How long they stood there, blue eyes staring into green, Eliza couldn't have said. It seemed like seconds, eons. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she should have moved. It would have been the smart thing to do. But there was something in his eyes, a heat, a spark of emotion that seemed to steal the breath right out of her lungs. Transfixed, she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't look away.
Later, she never remembered when he moved. One second, they were staring at each other like they'd never seen each other before, and the next, his arms were tightening around her, drawing her closer. A heartbeat later, his mouth was on hers.
Her head swimming, Eliza clung to him and felt as if she'd suddenly walked into a dream. He'd kissed her before. She'd thought she'd know what to expect, how he would make her feel. But this was different. This was magic.
Softly, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he wooed her with a tender kiss, brushing her mouth with his over and over again and melting her bones one by one. It was sweet, wonderful, and oh, so tempting. Her heart thundering in her breast, she moaned softly and sank into him, aching with need.
Their relationship was about to change forever—she felt it and she knew he did, too. He held her as if he would never let her go, and when she kissed him back hungrily, he groaned and slanted his mouth over hers, taking the kiss deeper, then deeper still.
Holding her, running his hands over her slender curves, he couldn't seem to stop touching her. He'd forgotten how soft she was, how delicate. Her skin felt like rose petals, and when she kissed him like he was the only man in the world, all he wanted to do was pull her down to the bed and make love to her until they were both too weak to move.
Just once, he told himself. But even as he tried to convince himself that once was all it would take to get her out of his system, he realized it was too late for that. He didn't know how it had happened or when, but she stirred something in him that no one ever had. He dreamed of her, ached for her, and in the dead of night, his body gave him away and he reached for her.
Which was why, he decided, he wasn't making love to her today or any other day. But damn, letting her go was the hardest thing he'd ever done! He loved the feel of her, the enticing womanliness of her that she seemed so unaware of. Given the chance, he could have done nothing but hold her for hours.. .but that would have tempted him past bearing.
So he put her from him abruptly, while he still could, and they both felt the loss. For a long moment, they both just stood there, stunned by what had passed between them. Lorenzo's pride refused to let him be the first to look away, but when she glanced away, he found little satisfaction in the victory. "I have to take a shower," he said huskily, and headed for the bathroom on legs that weren't quite steady. This time, she made no effort to stop him.
* * *
How Lorenzo managed to take a shower without losing his balance when he was still weak as a baby, Eliza never knew. Afraid he would fall, she wanted to help him, but she didn't dare. Not after that kiss. Her heart was still pounding like a drum ten minutes later, and that was reason enough to keep her distance.
Still, she couldn't concentrate on her writing as long as he was in the bathroom, so she finally gave up in defeat and just sat there at the table and listened for the sound of him hitting the floor. It never came. Instead, he jerked open the door without warning and caught her staring. "If you're waiting for the shower, it's all yours," he growled. "I'm going back to bed."
Watching him stalk across to the bed, Eliza thought, no man had a right to be so good-looking when he'd just been flat on his back with a fever that morning. It just wasn't fair. The shower had brought some color back to his cheeks, and he'd taken the time to shave. Bare-chested, his pajama bottoms riding low at his waist and his damp hair curling from the shower, he was the stuff fantasies were made of.
Turning his back on her, he crawled into bed, clicked on the television, and proceeded to ignore her. Obviously, he was more than a little irritated with her, she thought, and couldn't imagine why. She wasn't the one who had initiated the kiss or ended it—he was. And now he was sulking like a little boy. Lifting her eyes from her computer to study him quietly, she suddenly found herself fighting a grin. Who would have thought a duke—and the man who had come a heartbeat away from being named heir to the Montebellan throne—would pout?
Amused, she promised herself the day would come when she would tease him about that. In the meantime, she should be thanking him for keeping his head because she certainly hadn't. If he hadn't stopped when he had, they would be in bed together right now, and that thought sobered her as nothing else could. He could steal her heart. From the very beginning, she'd known she was susceptible to him, but she hadn't realized just how vulnerable she was until he'd kissed her the way he had. Something had shifted in the region of her heart, and she didn't think she would ever be quite the same again.
And that shook her to the core. She couldn't allow herself to get any ideas about him. Not now, not ever. He was a duke, for heaven's sake! There was no place for an American reporter in his life.
An unexpected pain squeezed her heart, and she was horrified to feel tears burn her eyes. She never cried! When Robert had walked out on her because she wouldn't quit her job and spend more time with him, she hadn't shed a tear. Growing up, she'd watched her mother fall apart every time she and her father had a fight, and she'd decided she wouldn't be that kind of woman. She was stronger than that, tougher. She wouldn't give anyone the power to reduce her to tears.
Keeping that promise to herself hadn't been all that difficult. Until now. Shaken, she didn't know how Lorenzo had brought her to this with only a few kisses. However he'd done it, he wouldn't do it again, she thought grimly. From now on, their relationship would be strictly professional. Stiffening her spine, she returned her attention to her work. Later, she couldn't have said what she'd written, but she didn't care. Her eyes didn't once stray to Lorenzo.
The rest of the day and the next passed in much the same way. They only spoke to each other when they had to, and when it came time to go to bed, she moved to his room, which was right next door, and slept there. As Lorenzo progressively grew stronger, he didn't need her help to get in and out of bed or to make it across the room to the bathroom, and if he noticed that she didn't rush to help him anymore, he didn't say anything. Telling herself that was fine with her, Eliza refused to acknowledge that she missed those moments when she'd touched him so freely.
Outside, the storm finally blew itself out, but only after dumping a re
cord amount of snowfall all over Colorado. As soon as the highway department trucks were able to start clearing the roads, they were out in full force, but the task the road crews had ahead of them was a daunting one. With so much snow to clear, they couldn't move quickly.
Trapped in two connecting rooms, there was nothing Eliza and Lorenzo could do but wait. It wasn't easy. They were both aware that if the prince was in a more populated area, where the roads were probably cleared first, he could already be on the move.. .while they sat twiddling their thumbs in small town U.S.A. Impatient, disgusted, they watched TV for reports on the roads and tried to ignore the sense of urgency that pulled at them.
By the time the highway department finally opened the road for travel all the way to the Wyoming state line, the strain of forced confinement was taking its toll. Skirting around each other like two snapping turtles who'd gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, they were barely speaking to each other when they threw their things in the pickup and checked out. Things only went downhill from there.
"With this storm, we're not going to be able to check every wide spot in the road," he said stiffly as he pulled out of the motel parking lot and headed north out of town. "A lot of places will be snowed in for weeks. Our best bet will be to stop at the police department in every town we come to. If a stranger matching Lucas's description has been through there within the past year, the sheriff's probably going to know about it."
Eliza couldn't believe he was serious. "What makes you think that? The sheriff couldn't tell us who was staying at the Barlow place back in Gatesville. Granted, all sheriffs aren't created equal, but Prince Lucas isn't exactly announcing his presence to the authorities. In fact, from where I'm standing, it looks like he's gone out of his way to keep a low profile. He won't go anywhere near the sheriff."
His mouth pressed into a flat line of annoyance. "I think I know Lucas a little bit better than you do," he retorted, staring straight ahead at the walls of trees that lined the highway for miles. "And I am in charge of the investigation. I have to do what I think is best."
He didn't have his nose in the air, but he didn't have to. He'd used that same superior tone when Eliza had first met him, and she didn't like it any better now than she had then. She might write a gossip column, but she wasn't some ditsy bimbo who couldn't find her head from a hole in the ground. He hadn't gotten this far in the investigation by himself— she'd been right there with him every step of the way. She was damn good at what she did, and if he respected nothing else about her, he had to respect her skills as an investigative reporter.
"You do that, Your Grace," she retorted, calling him by his title for the first time in days, "and you're going to drive right by him and not even know it. But don't let me stop you," she said with a sniff, lifting her own nose in the air. "I'm just a lowly peon, far below you in rank—"
"I never said that!"
"Not in so many words, no," she agreed. "But then again, words aren't always necessary, are they? As you just pointed out, this is your investigation."
He didn't deny it. "Yes, it is. Finding Prince Lucas is my responsibility, not yours."
"Then I guess I'm just along for the ride. I'll try not to get in your way. If you want my opinion, I'm sure you'll ask for it."
For a moment, she thought she saw regret flash in his eyes, but he only shrugged and returned his attention to his driving. "That's your choice."
Hurt, she shut up like a clam and looked out the window and watched as they passed one ranch, then another, without ever slowing down. She never said a word.
She didn't, in fact, speak to him for the rest of the day. Whenever they reached a town and he stopped at the sheriff's office and local hospitals, she stood at his side and asked her fair share of questions as the candid picture of the prince was passed around, but she didn't speak to Lorenzo personally. And he didn't seem inclined to speak to her. The set of his jaw getting more rigid as the day went on, he only spoke when it was absolutely necessary.
Later, she couldn't have said how long her silence would have lasted, but Fate stepped in at the end of the day, catching them both off guard when they hit another dead end in another small, one-horse town in the middle of nowhere. There was only one motel in town, and it only had six rooms. When they stepped into the tiny office to see about getting two rooms, the clerk, who had to be eighty if he was a day, shook his head regretfully. "Sorry. I've only got one left."
Startled, Eliza said, "But we need two rooms!"
"Then you'll have to drive to Rosebud, but you're not going to have any better luck there," he warned. "The power company brought in crews from Boulder to repair all the downed lines from the storm, and they've booked every hotel room within a hundred miles. If you want two rooms, you might find them on the other side of Cheyenne, but not here."
Cheyenne was an hour and a half away—there was no way they could drive that distance tonight. Not when they were tired and hungry and just wanted to stop. They exchanged a look and realized they had no choice. "We'll take it," Lorenzo said flatly.
Their room turned out to be little more than a broom closet. The full-size bed took up most of the floor space, leaving only enough room for a walkway around it and a small dresser that held the TV. When Lorenzo stepped inside and she followed him in, they both froze. They wouldn't be able to turn around without bumping into each other. Neither one of them wanted to think about what would happen when they shared the bed.
"It's just for one night," Lorenzo said coolly.
If he wasn't shaken by this, Eliza was determined she wouldn't be either. "We're both adults," she replied easily. "I'm sure we can both handle the situation."
It should have been easy—after all, they were both exhausted and barely even speaking to each other, she reasoned. They'd go to bed, then to sleep, and continue the search tomorrow as if nothing had happened. There was no reason to make a big deal out of it.
For a while, at least, Eliza actually believed that logic would prevail. She was convinced she had her emotions under control, so when he suggested they have dinner together at the family-owned restaurant down the street, she accepted. After all, she had something to prove. She could be as blase as he.
But when they settled at a table for two at the restaurant and their waitress brought the hamburgers they'd ordered, Eliza couldn't summon up much of an appetite. She found her thoughts straying to later, when Lorenzo would actually slip into bed with her, and her heart started pounding dully. After only three bites, she set her burger down and pushed her plate slightly away.
Lorenzo didn't appear to be any hungrier than she, but he lifted a brow at her. "Is something wrong with your burger?"
"No, I'm just tired," she fibbed. "It's been a long day."
"I can ask for a takeout box," he offered. "You can take it back to the room if you like."
Her heart jumped at the idea of returning to the room early. "No, that's not necessary," she assured him quickly. "I don't want to ruin your meal. Take your time. There's no hurry."
He took her at her word and didn't, thankfully, rush, but it only took so much time to eat a hamburger. All too soon, they were headed back to the motel, and Eliza was as nervous as a virgin on her honeymoon. "I'm going to take a bath and wash my hair," she said the second he followed her into the tiny room and shut the door. "It could take a while."
"No problem," he said easily. "I'm going to call the king and see if I can get through."
He stood across the room from her, yet she could have reached out and touched him. And he would be even closer when they crawled into bed together. Her mouth going dry at the thought, she said hoarsely, "Then I'll just get my things and give you some privacy."
In the time it took to blink, she grabbed her nightgown and robe and hurried into the bathroom. Her heart pounding crazily, she told herself she was acting like an idiot, but there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it. Filling the tub, she slipped into the steaming water and began to wash her hair.
/> She'd warned him she would be a while, and she hadn't been kidding. After she'd washed and rinsed her hair, she lounged in the hot water until it cooled, soaking away her tension. Then she painted her toenails and waited for her hair to dry. It wasn't until she found herself applying her favorite scented lotion all over her body that she realized that Lorenzo might think she was going to all that trouble for him.
Mortified, she groaned. She always put lotion on after a bath—she did it without even thinking about it—but Lorenzo had no way of knowing that. They'd never shared a room before. And there was nothing she could do about it now. Except take another bath, and that seemed a little ridiculous. If he got any ideas, she'djust explain that her bath habits had nothing to do with him.
Confident that she had it all worked out, she pulled on her gown and robe, then drew in a calming breath. When she opened the bathroom door, she wanted to think she looked cool and collected. Inside, however, her nerves were in a knot, and if Lorenzo had listened carefully, he would have heard her knees knocking.
She needn't have worried that he'd noticed. He'd finished his phone call, and even though he'd told her to take her time, she had taken far too long and he was obviously waiting. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"No problem," he assured her, and stepped around her to get to the bathroom. A split second after he shut the door, the shower sprang on, and with a muttered curse, Eliza quickly slipped out of her robe and crawled into bed. If she planned to be asleep before he came to bed, she didn't have any time to waste. Her heart thumping crazily, she switched off the light on her side of the bed, which was farthest from the bathroom, and turned her back on the rest of the room.
Sleep was, of course, impossible. Her nerves wound tighter than a broken clock, she lay as stiff as a board and listened for the shower to go off. When it did, her heart stopped dead in her chest.
Later, she knew she was going to laugh about this. She was twenty-seven years old, for heaven's sake, not sixteen! There was no reason to be acting like this. Lorenzo was a duke and a gentleman. He wasn't going to force himself on her.