Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  The flashlight on his phone almost blinded her when he switched it on pointed right at her. "Oh, sorry about that," he apologized, but the smile on his face didn't make him look very sorry.

  She frowned.

  "What? Did I do something to offend you?"

  She ignored his question, determined to keep her distance from lover boy. Harper reached past him to flip on the now visible switches, blanketing the garage in florescent lighting.

  "Whoa," they said in unison as they turned their attention to the contents of the garage. Harper was no expert on luxury cars, but even she knew there was a fortune's worth of vehicles parked side by side in a neat row.

  Colt started walking the line, naming the cars as he went. "I'm not good on guessing years, but this is a vintage Jaguar convertible. A Corvette from the 70s. A Maserati. A Lamborghini. A Land Rover. A Bentley. An Audi. And..." He stopped, looking back confused. "One of these things just doesn't belong here."

  What a joker. Did he really just quote Sesame Street?

  "That's my car, you big jerk," she huffed at his deserved insult.

  "Listen, lady, I don't know who the hell you are, but I'll ask again. Have I done something to offend you?"

  She sailed past him, anxious to get her bags and hide in her room. "It doesn't matter who I am. Thanks for the help with the light." She hoped her brisk comment would send him on his way.

  She wasn't so lucky. She'd just gotten to her car when she felt his hands on her arms, spinning her around until her back was jammed against the window. He crowded her, stopping shy of actually touching her. He was luckily a good six inches taller than her, giving her the perfect excuse to stare at his chiseled chin instead of into his eyes as she tried to defuse the situation.

  "Listen, I'm just tired, okay? I drove out from the city, had to work all day and now I need to get my stuff upstairs and unpacked, so I can plan out everything for tomorrow." She stopped short of apologizing because—well—she wasn't sorry.

  Was it her imagination or was he leaning closer? She jumped when his index finger lightly touched her chin, lifting her face until she had no choice but to acknowledge him.

  Her breath caught. He was more handsome in person than in any of the thousands of pictures on the Internet. For the first time, she had an inkling of why so many otherwise intelligent women might lower themselves to be used by the guy and then thrown away.

  It was a good thing she was stronger than that.

  "I'm Colt."

  "Duh."

  That made him smile which only made him more good-looking… virile… suave…

  She shook her head as if to clear the unwanted thoughts with a reboot.

  "Now. Let's start again. I'm Colton King, and you are?" His question hung in the air.

  Oh for crying out loud, they'd be here together for six weeks. There was no way he wouldn't figure out who she was. "I'm Harper Gardener. I'm the chef they hired to cook for the cast and crew for the next six weeks."

  It was a good thing her car was propping her up, because the hug he scooped her into had a way of making her knees weak.

  "That was the best damn mushroom ravioli I've had. It was even better than Georgio's in the Italian Village."

  Holy shit. What were the odds?

  "Actually, I would argue that it was exactly like the dish from Georgio's."

  "You've eaten there?"

  "No, I got fired from there. It was my dish."

  "What? I won't be able to get it any more when I'm in town?"

  So typical, looking out for himself. "I'm so sorry my career's demise will be an inconvenience for you."

  "Okay, I guess I deserved that one. Why the hell would you get fired? You have skills."

  "Apparently not the right ones." When he waited expectantly for clarification on her cryptic answer, tears crept into her eyes as she added vulnerably, "George and I worked together… lived together. I thought we might even get married one day, but that was before he decided to dip his nib in the new girl. Suddenly, I'm out of a job. An apartment. So yeah, I'm a little angry at men in general right now."

  "What a fucking asshole."

  The vehemence of his anger surprised her.

  "Isn't that a little hypocritical of you? I mean, don't look now, but you're going to be sleeping with six women for the next six weeks, not to mention the hundreds, if not thousands, in your notorious portfolio. I'm pretty sure there might be a few hundred women out there feeling exactly like I do right now, only with your picture pinned to the voodoo doll instead of George's."

  Colt fell forward, trapping her body between his and the car door, anger flaring in his eyes. "First, I've barely even met the women in the main house, let alone slept with them. And while, yes, I may have played the field over the years, I sleep like a baby at night knowing I have never—not once—cheated on a woman I was in a monogamous relationship with. I've been nothing but honest with the people I go out with. That may seem like splitting hairs to someone not involved, but any woman who complains I cheated, wasn't paying attention."

  Harper was stunned into silence. He was close enough she felt his breath on her cheek as he fought to calm his burst of anger. Her misguided read of George aside, she thought of herself as a good judge of character. In that moment, she knew Colt King was telling the truth.

  "I'm sorry. It's really none of my business anyway."

  He hesitated, pressing against her long enough that, even through her coat, she could feel the hardness of his athletic body. She needed to put some distance between them.

  Her hand snaked between their bodies to press against his immobile chest. Seconds later, he stepped back, this time shaking his head as if to shake an unwanted thought out. She used the opening to dash towards the back of her car, popping the trunk with her key fob. She wrestled her biggest suitcase out before reaching back in for her smaller carryon bag. When she turned back, Colt had the handle raised and was pulling the larger bag away, between the cars and towards the exit.

  "You don't have to do that!" she called out to him. "I can handle it."

  He waited for her at the door, slapping her hand away when she went to grab her bag. "You’re really a stubborn woman; you know that?" He flipped off the lights, blanketing them in darkness before ushering her out into the yard. She was about to reach for the bag again, when he picked up the heavy case. "There's no way you can roll it across the yard on these stones. Stop being a baby, and let me help you. Where is your room?"

  There was no way in hell Colton King was going to help her to her room. Awareness hit her, and she swung around in a circle, frantically looking for a hidden camera crew.

  "Don't worry. I ditched 'em already. I'm guessing they'll figure out my tricks eventually, but for tonight at least, I'm sans cameras." Her face must have registered her relief because he added a jovial, "That's exactly how I feel too."

  Recognizing he was being genuinely helpful, she started walking back towards the pool house. She could hear his shoes crunching on the stones behind her. She'd dropped her briefcase and purse in her apartment earlier, so she at least knew where the light switch was to illuminate the first floor of the impressive space.

  Colton's impressed whistle made her smile. She'd have thought a guy like him was used to this kind of almost gross opulence. The space was the size of a basketball court, two stories high, with walls of windows from floor to ceiling. She hadn't explored, but she could see a whirlpool, heated pool, lap pool, and billiards area from the entrance.

  "The caretakers, Charlie and Cecelia, told me there's a gym, kitchen, stocked bar, and locker rooms behind the wall at the other end."

  "Impressive."

  "If you say so. I say, excessive."

  He pinned her with a stare she didn't know how to interpret. She had to force herself to look away, moving towards the flight of stairs to her right that led to the apartment above. "My place is up here. If you want to leave the bag there, I'll come back down for it."

  "Do you ever just le
t someone help you and then say thank you?"

  His question annoyed her. She wanted to keep him at arm's length, and it was getting harder and harder the nicer he acted.

  "I'm independent; is that a crime?"

  "Crime? No. A shame? Yes."

  "Why do you care so much?"

  They were at her door. Not wanting to invite him in, she turned, pressing her back against the hard wood as he crowded closer, just as he had in the garage. The guy had some serious personal space issues.

  "I guess because every single other person on the property wants something from me. It's refreshing to find someone who doesn't."

  "And yet you helped me anyway." She softened. "Thank you."

  For the briefest of moments, she wondered if he would kiss her. He stepped back, taking a deep breath of his own before adding a quiet, "Goodnight, Harper Gardener."

  He'd turned and was halfway down the stairs when she caught her breath again. Only after the bang of the door to the outside confirmed she was alone, did she whisper, "Goodnight, Colton King."

  Chapter Three

  The morning sun was just peeking over the horizon to the east as Colt made his way across the open drive towards the pool house. He'd been having increasing trouble sleeping in the two weeks since his arrival in Connecticut. The stress of balancing six competitive women, one demanding producer, and a bossy agent was aggravating enough. But if he was honest with himself, it was the internal reflection he'd been forced to go through in the process of filming that weighed on his mind when he closed his eyes. He missed his hectic game schedule that kept him too busy to think overly hard about anything except baseball.

  But faced with the daily questions of what he planned to do with the rest of his life, both professionally and personally, he'd fallen into a rare funk, which was not exactly conducive to building a compelling reality TV show, unless they wanted to change the focus from his love life to his mental health.

  Colt let himself into the quiet building, glad to see he had the space to himself. Like his previous trips to the gym or sauna, his eyes fell on the stairs to the apartment above, thinking of the chef who was sleeping there. He'd only been able to talk with Harper a few times since that first night, and it had always been in the main house with cameras and people all around. She'd been aloof, unwilling to find herself alone with him. Yet, it had made him happy to catch her sneaking glances his way when she thought he wasn’t looking. She blushed beautifully when he winked at her.

  He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit to being disappointed she wasn't walking down the steps even now. She was an anomaly. A unique mix of funny, intelligent and bewitching. He may not know why yet, but she’d captured his attention in a way few had in the past.

  Making his way to the glass table next to the lap pool, he threw his phone, keys, and towel down before stripping off his workout clothes to reveal his speedo. Grabbing his goggles, he headed to the starting block at the far end of the pool.

  The water was cool as he dove in, jolting him awake as he sluiced through the wetness, enjoying the stretch of his muscles. He wasn't a particularly strong swimmer, but he loved the workout water resistance provided his body.

  And boy did he need it.

  His thoughts returned to the woman upstairs, remembering the amazing dishes she'd been surprising him with each day. If he wasn't careful, he was going to pack on poundage before taping ended.

  Twenty laps later, Colt dragged his fit body out of the pool, grabbing his towel and phone and beelining it to the heated whirlpool. He sunk his body into the warmth, letting the pounding jets beat away at his muscles, helping him relax. Knowing time was getting short before his assigned camera crew would seek him out, Colt grabbed his phone and dialed Van.

  "Do you know what time it is?" his friend grumbled.

  "As a matter of fact, I do. I've already got twenty laps in. How about you?"

  "I was going to sleep in today. My first meeting isn't until ten."

  "Screw that. I need your help. This whole thing is a big mistake. You have to get me out of here."

  "Hey, hold on. I thought things were going great. Gavin is happy."

  "And I'm miserable, and might I remind you, you work for me."

  "Let's slow down. What's going on?"

  "What's not? Five of the six women are cutthroat, coming at me like I'm a piece of steak, except they're all fucking vegans so I guess that's a bad analogy."

  "Okay, that's kinda bad. But how about the sixth one? Have you connected with her? Maybe she's the one?"

  "Sophia? God, no. She's so quiet and timid, she barely let's me hold her chair for her at dinner. Even if I wanted to be with her, I'd bet my life she's frigid."

  "Well, you should at least be getting some good ass from the others."

  "Knock it off, will you? I'm the first to admit I've played the field loose over the years, but never like this. Not pitting women living under the same roof against each other. And never with women I didn't choose myself."

  "Is that what this is all about? Gavin chose them for you?"

  "No, dammit. I just don't know what the hell I'm doing here and how you think this fiasco is going to do my career any good. Let's just assume I even wanted to sleep with these women. If I play the playboy, I come off looking like a fucking asshole. If I don't, Gavin and Ryan get all over me for acting too honorable. Can you believe that shit? They actually called me a choir boy!"

  "There has to be some mistake. No one could ever confuse you with a choir boy. You sing like shit."

  "Fuck you. I called you for some real advice, not for you to gang up on me too."

  "Okay, okay. I'm sorry, but you have me a bit confused here. Since when is being faced with having sex with beautiful women a bad thing for you?"

  That was just it. Right there. The million-dollar question.

  "I can't explain it. It just feels… slimy. Maya snuck into my room and woke me up with my dick in the back of her throat yesterday."

  "That doesn't sound like a real problem, buddy."

  What was wrong with him? It had felt fucking fantastic at the time. That woman's mouth had skills. But it had been later that it had bothered him to remember his morning wakeup call. It had been when…

  The sound of a door slamming drew his attention. Colt glanced up to see Harper walking down the steps. She was already in her chef's uniform, looking fresh out of the shower. Her long, sandy blonde hair was still wet, not yet in her normal ponytail.

  "Hello? Did I lose you?" Van's voice cut in.

  "Hey, sorry. I gotta go." Pushing to his feet and reaching for his towel, he hung up as Van was shouting an obscenity.

  She was almost out the door before he yelled her name. "Harper! Wait up."

  She paused, her hand already on the knob. He got the sense she was avoiding him, and her actions in the next ten seconds would confirm or deny his suspicion.

  He was almost to the door, dripping water behind him, when she spoke to him quietly. "What do you want, Colt?"

  That was a fucking fantastic question. He had her attention, now what?

  "I've tried to talk to you a few times, but it never seems to work out."

  "Yeah, well, we're both kinda busy, aren't we?"

  He wished he could see her eyes. Moving slowly as not to startle her, he reached to turn her around. Like in the garage weeks before, he gently pressed her body against the door, leaning in close enough to smell the lavender shampoo she'd used that morning.

  He finally answered her question. "I'm not that busy. I think you're avoiding me."

  She didn't deny it.

  "What's the point? Neither of us are in a position to get distracted right now. I have a job to do and… so do you."

  The way she said it bothered him. "And what job is it you think I have?"

  "Don't play coy with me. I hear the girls talking in the kitchen every morning while they're avoiding eating the food I slave over for them," she lamented.

  Fuck, he hadn't even cons
idered that the contestants were interacting with her on their own. No wonder she was avoiding him. God only knew what they'd said in front of her.

  "Listen, I can explain."

  "Why? You don't have a damn thing to explain to me, Colt. I'm just the cook. A nobody." Her voice quavered.

  He grabbed her arms, pulling her against his wet body. She melted against him like a wilting flower. Where the hell was the spunky chef who regularly put him in his place?

  "Talk to me. What's going on?" He leaned back, hoping to figure out what was going on in that sassy head of hers.

  The rising sun was now shining through the windows, making the tears in her lovely blue eyes sparkle.

  She turned her head, refusing to look at him. His right hand cupped her face, forcing her to look back at him again. "Tell me. Something's wrong."

  "How would you know?"

  "That's a fine question. I honestly don't know how I know, but I do." He knew it at a gut level.

  "It's nothing."

  "Harper." He lowered his voice, demanding answers with one word.

  "It's just… I listen to them all talking about you when you're not there and… They are horrible women. All of them. Backstabbing you. Backstabbing each other. They lie, or at least I hope they do, because…" Her voice trailed off as she tried to look away.

  "I'm so sorry you're getting caught up in this. I'll talk to Gavin and make the kitchen off limits for them. They can eat in the dining room and have Cecelia serve them."

  His answer seemed to frustrate her instead of make her feel better. She was clearly exasperated when she answered. "That's fine, but that won't really solve the problem now, will it?"

  "I guess it depends on which problem we're solving?"

  They were both talking in circles now, unsure what to say, hell even what to think.

  "I need to get up to the house. Everyone will be looking for breakfast soon."

  "Give me a minute, and let me get dressed. I'll walk with you."