by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
He didn't have much hope for it anyway. If he had a minute with a calendar, he could count to the day how long it had been since he'd had sex. He didn't need a calendar to know how long it had been since he'd wanted it so damn bad. That answer was with him every time he was around Anna, every time he looked at her, touched her, talked to her, yelled at her, hurt her. Never.
He'd never wanted any woman the way he wanted her.
Had never been willing to sacrifice so much for so little.
Had never been so close to sacrificing it al.
Had never had such a weakness.
When they reached the SUV, he helped her inside, then glanced up to see Betty Jo watching them through the window. Something she'd said came back to him as he stood there, the scent of Anna's perfume in every slow breath he dragged in. I've got news for you, hon—a couple looks at each other the way you two was looking at each other … you're together. You may as well accept it now and make the best of it.
Grimly he shut the door, circled the truck and slid behind the wheel, then headed out of town for the mine. Maybe he could accept it if he thought there was a best to make of it, but basically what they were looking at was an affair that might last a few days, maybe a week or two if they were lucky. Then she would return to Montebello, and he would go wherever in the world the organization chose to send him. Her little adventure would be over, and she would meet another man—probably one of those princes, titled jerks or sheiks—and she would get married, settle down and eventually have her first royal baby. Like her sister, Julia, and her sister, Christina.
Except Christina had done it with a whole other kind of noble man—his kind. Jack Dalton didn't have a drop of royal blood, but that hadn't stopped Christina from marrying him, and if the king and queen had objected, it had been privately. They'd been all smiles and joy at the wedding.
But he was no Jack Dalton. Dalton, an ex-Navy SEAL, had proven himself a thousand times over. There had never been any question whether he was qualified for or deserving of his position in the Noble Men. Though his father had been one of the founding members, he'd gotten there on his own merits.
While Tyler had gotten in on his family's merits. Dalton had earned his slot in the organization before he'd ever been invited aboard, while Tyler was being given the chance to earn his after the fact
"What's wrong, Tyler?" Anna asked.
The softness of her voice stabbed through him and made his fingers clutch the steering wheel tighter. "Nothing."
"Then why did we drive past the turn for the mine?"
Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw a sign with the name of the mine prominently displayed backwards. He hit the brakes, then swung the truck in a tight circle, muttering curses all the time.
"My mother says that swearing is the last resort of people without imagination," Anna said mildly. "Though, frankly, I find your curses quite imaginative. I never would have thought to use those words in that particular combination."
"Your father swears, you know."
"Not in front of my mother, he doesn't."
"Well, I'm not your father, and you're not my—" Abruptly, he broke off, the final word—wife—trapped by the knot that choked him. He turned off the highway onto a paved road that led to the mine, acutely aware of her watching him, of the tension that made him hot and robbed him of the air he needed desperately. He couldn't manage a breath until he'd parked in front of the office and climbed out, letting the cold air wash over him.
Water dripped steadily from the roof of the building and ran in rivulets around his boots as he opened the passenger door. When Anna made no move to release her seat belt, he asked, "Are you coming in?"
She smiled politely. "No, thank you. I shall wait here."
"You sure?"
When she nodded, he closed the door and took the steps two at a time to the double-glass doors painted with the mine's name and that of its parent company. A week ago he'd been furious to find her in Clarkston, and now it felt strange going into the office alone. What the hell was wrong with him?
Just before opening the door, he spun around and returned to the truck, opening her door once again. "Does it bother you?"
"Does what bother me?"
"My swearing. Because I don't do it in front of most people. I don't have to do it in front of you."
Once more she smiled, though this time there was none of that aloof, regal princess crap about it. It was an honest-to-God, natural, genuinely amused smile, like the one she'd given him that morning just before she'd thrown the snow in his face, just before he'd dumped his own snow on her and found himself fondling her—
Just the memory made a groan rise from deep inside, and he had to clamp down hard to stop it from escaping.
"No, it doesn't bother me at all."
"Are you sure? Because I could stop."
"That easily?"
"Yeah. That easily." More or less.
She shook her head, and he wished for the curls that normally shimmered and bounced every time she moved her head. "It doesn't bother me," she repeated. Then the dark brown of her eyes softened and warmed, and her smile somehow turned secretive and innocently wicked. "However, perhaps I can think of something you do that does bother me, so you can give me a demonstration of this phenomenal control of yours."
His body reacted to her words and that smile in all the right ways—or wrong ways, he guessed, depending on your point of view—and he sucked in a lungful of frigid air to lessen the heat "Sweetheart, you've been living with the best example for a week now and haven't even noticed," he mumbled as he closed the door and retraced his steps to the glass doors.
As he walked inside the office, he glanced back at her, sitting all prim and proper in the passenger seat, and experienced another spurt of desire, building, getting harder and edgier. Maybe the princess couldn't truly appreciate his phenomenal control until he lost it … and at that very moment, he was getting pretty damn close to that point.
God help them both.
* * *
After a fruitless visit to the mine, Tyler and Anna returned to the cabin, gathered their laundry and crossed the narrow drive to the lodge's laundry room. It consisted of three washers, three dryers and one long table opposite them, and had that steamy fabric-softener smell that Tyler had always associated with laundry day when he was a kid. The mesh laundry bag he carried, marked "Ramsey" in permanent black ink, was stuffed to the gills, and Anna carried the grocery sack that contained the detergent, bleach and fabric softener they'd bought at the Thrifty Warehouse, along with a bottle of liquid detergent for their sweaters.
"What do we do first?" Anna asked as he dropped the heavy laundry bag on the table, then emptied it
"Sort the clothes."
"Into yours and mine? Types? Colors? Styles?"
He glanced at her. "You've never done laundry before, have you?"
She shook her head.
"Okay. I sort the clothes and you sit down."
There was one orange vinyl chair at each end of the room. She moved one closer to the table and watched as he began making piles all around. After a moment, she sniffed. "That's not so very difficult."
"I never said it was, Your Highness."
With one slender hand, she pointed out various piles. "White clothes, dark clothes that can be dried, dark clothes that shouldn't, light clothes that can be dried and light ones that shouldn't, towels and sheets and—"
The pile that stopped her was her own clothing—unmentionables in delicate fabrics and even more delicate shades. Small bras and tiny panties. Lace and ribbon, satin and silk, sexy little see-through bits of nothing, in the palest of pastels. He wasn't surprised they' left her at a loss for words. He pretty much felt that way, too.
He got the first three loads started, then glanced at his watch. "Do you mind if I go back to the cabin for a minute? I need to check in with Kyle."
"I shall be quite safe here, I'm certain."
He was about to walk out the door that
faced their cabin, twenty yards away, when she spoke again.
"Tyler? Have I thanked you for not telling anyone I'm here?" He thought back to the shabby motel in Clarkston, when he'd lied to her about calling her father. She'd thanked him, sworn he wouldn't regret it and promised he wouldn't even know she was there—yeah, right—and then she'd kissed him. He should have run away as far and as fast as he could … or tendered his resignation and spent the next ninety-six hours in bed with her.
"Yeah," he said with a grim smile. "You thanked me." She'd trusted him, he'd betrayed her trust, and she'd thanked him for it.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he returned to the cabin, took off his coat and picked up the phone. While waiting for his brother to answer, he settled at the front window, where he could watch the laundry room door. Not that he thought Anna might be in any danger there. He figured she was almost as safe there as she would have been at her sister's house in Billings. He just wanted to … watch.
"What's up, little brother?" Kyle's voice drew his attention back to the call, though his gaze remained across the way.
"Little brother? I'm as tall as you are and ten pounds heavier."
"Yeah, but you'll always be the baby. How's Montana? I heard you got snowed in."
"Let's just say I've had better experiences being snowed in."
"When you weren't alone, you mean."
"Who says I was alone this time? We had plenty of warning that the snow was coming."
"You telling me that on your first solo job, you went out and picked up a girl to keep you company?"
"No," Tyler admitted.
"Well, damn, what's wrong with you?" After a laugh, Kyle went on. "Have you had a chance to ask around about Lucas?"
"Yeah, today. Nobody's seen him in town, and he never showed up at the mine looking for work, so it's a fair bet he's never been here at all. Any news on your end?"
"Nothing. This guy Joe seems to have appeared out of nowhere and disappeared the same way. Whether he's the prince or not, apparently he doesn't want to be found. Kinda makes you wonder why, doesn't it? I mean, if he is the prince, and he's got amnesia, why did he take off like that? And if he doesn't have amnesia, why did he take off like that? And if he's not the prince and really is just some drifter…"
"Yeah, I know. And why would he take off to work in a mine? That would be about as likely for Lucas as you waking up in the morning wanting Jake's job." Kyle had fought so hard against running the family business that it was doubtful anything in the world could make him give it a shot "You know, I've gotta wonder if this guy Joe really is Lucas, or if we're on a wild-goose chase. If the weather holds, we—" Tyler mouthed a silent curse before continuing "—I'm leaving for Golden in the morning. If I don't find any sign of him there, I think I'll go to Colorado and talk to this Ursula Chambers myself. Is that okay?"
"Sure, no problem. While you're there, can you stop by the sheriff's office and see if they've found out anything about the man Lorenzo caught breaking into the Chambers house?"
"Will do. How's Joanna and the baby?"
"They're fine. I'll be seeing them in a few days."
The background noise on the line increased to a hum during their momentary silence, then Tyler cleared his throat "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure. You can ask anything," Kyle said, quoting one of their father's favorite sayings. Tyler finished it in unison with him. "But whether I'll answer is the real question."
"When you met Joanna … how did you know she was the one you wanted to marry?"
Kyle's laughter boomed over the line. "Jeez, you really are young, aren't you? When I met Joanna, I knew two things—she was a beautiful woman, and I was horny as hell. It was a while before marriage and love entered into it."
Though most people would reverse the order of those two—love and marriage—Tyler knew Kyle had put the words in the order he'd meant Joanna had gotten pregnant their first night together, and when Kyle had found out some three months later, he'd automatically assumed she would return to the States with him, marry him and provide for their child together. Love had come into the picture after the proposal but before the actual marriage.
"Let me guess… You met some woman up there in Montana, and you're trying to decide if it's okay to have sex with her merely for the sake of the sex itself or if you have to commit to her. You know, Ty, sometimes purely recreational sex is exactly what the doctor ordered. You don't have to have a relationship with every single woman you go to bed with. You don't have to offer them a future or even see them again after the sun comes up tomorrow. You're single and unattached, and you're free to have single, unattached sex, no commitments required. Just a good supply of condoms."
Tyler didn't even have that … but he was sure the kindly pharmacist who had seemed so taken with Anna would be more than happy to sell them to him.
But he also didn't have Kyle's former appreciation for uncommitted sex.
"You know what your problem is, Ty?" Kyle went on. "You expect too much. I bet you've never had sex with a woman you didn't have some sort of relationship with, have you? You think every date should lead to a relationship and every relationship should at least have the potential for marriage, and that's just not the case. Some women are meant to be in your life for a night or a week and then gone. You don't have to beat yourself up because you had great sex with a woman you're never gonna love."
"So you had great sex with Joanna, then didn't see her again for more than three months, and even that was dumb luck. And if you hadn't seen her again, that would have been all right with you."
"The hell it would. But Joanna was meant to be."
"How did you know?" More importantly, when did he know? Because Tyler was pretty damn sure he couldn't stop wanting more than Kyle seemed to think he should. He didn't want to sleep with a woman for the sole purpose of having great sex. He wanted to know who he was making love to. To borrow a line from Anna, he wanted it to mean something.
"I— Jeez, you couldn't have called Joanna about this, could you? I'm sure she's got lots more answers than I do."
"I can call her now," Tyler offered. "I'll tell her that you're talking up the advantages of indiscriminate recreational sex and that I wanted to get her opinion on the subject." For all Kyle's talk, Tyler knew Joanna made him toe the line. He also knew his brother loved her dearly and never looked twice at other women.
"Well, of course everything I say applies solely to you," Kyle teased. "Being a very happily married man, I have no interest in the dating and mating game beyond giving advice to my kid brother, who never takes it anyway."
"I always take your advice."
"Sure you do. You gonna take it this time? You gonna sleep with this woman?"
With his free hand, Tyler rubbed the weariness from his eyes. "I'm doing my best not to."
"Why not?" Kyle asked, then immediately continued. "Never mind. I forgot I was talking to the only man I know who's incapable of enjoying casual sex. Most men would be afraid she might think it meant something. You'd be concerned that she wouldn't think it meant something. Okay, so she obviously means something to you—I mean, hell, this is you we're talking about. What's the problem?"
Tyler had so many answers he didn't know where to start. She was a virgin. She was a princess. He was working for her father. He couldn't not see her again after the night was over—and wouldn't want the sex if he could. She meant a hell of a lot to him, but not as much as his job did … or did she? And was he anything to her other than part of the good time she was having while supposedly on the lam from the royal life?
"I just don't see much sense in pursuing a relationship that's destined to go nowhere." He didn't want to hurt anyone, and he damn sure didn't want to get hurt himself. And if anyone could hurt him, it was Anna. Without much more than a cool smile and a regal blow-off, she could break his heart.
That was the problem. She could break his heart. He was already way past the casual sex stage, and she … he didn't know w
hat she wanted, besides to have a little freedom, experience life as a normal person and lose her virginity. He didn't even know if she cared who helped her with the last. Had Rusty back in Clarkston been in the running? If Tyler convinced her that he really wasn't going to give in, would someone else do just as well? Maybe one of the mayor's sons?
Over his dead body.
"You're an overachiever, you know that?" Kyle said.
"Oh, yeah, right I've screwed up practically everything I've ever tried. The old man wonders how in hell I could have his blood flowing through my veins and still be such a major failure."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"How many jobs has Dad held in his lifetime? Three—the air force, the parts business, and this other stuff. How about you? Two. And Jake? One. And then there's me. I've had twelve, maybe fifteen, jobs in the past thirteen years. I never held on to any of them longer than eight or ten months. Hell, I couldn't even make it in the family business."
"So what? You took a lot of jobs that nobody would willingly hold on to longer than eight or ten months. And it's not like you were lying around, living off Mom and Dad in between jobs. Whenever you quit or got fired, you always found another job right away—maybe not one you particularly liked or wanted to keep, but one that paid the bills until something better came along." Kyle swore. "Jeez, Tyler, where's the achievement in sticking with a job you hate for forty years? All that shows is you're a glutton for punishment. It's not behavior to aspire to—more like something to be pitied. Besides, if the old man thought you were a screwup, do you think he ever would have brought you into the organization? You know how much this bunch means to him. He never would have let either of us get within a million miles of 'em if he didn't believe we had something to offer them."
"But … every time I changed jobs, he made bets on how long I'd last at the new job, and whether I would quit or get fired. He always acted like it was a joke, but he always had this look in his eyes, like…" Tyler broke off. There was a limit to how much of his guts he was going to spill to his brother, and admitting that their father had always been disappointed in him exceeded that limit