by Cathie Linz
One of the reasons her schedule was so full was that she took every opportunity to tell others about the need for help in places like Bosnia and Romania. To do that, she traveled extensively across Europe, America and Australia to spread the word. She was needed to open a new opera house in Kansas? Fine, she’d show up provided she could talk about what her father termed her “pet cause.”
Again she’d been a disappointment to him. He wanted her to get involved with delicate things like the Volzemburg Ballet or the Garden Society. Not the nitty-gritty world of children in dire need.
Vanessa longed to do more, but was testing her father’s limits as it was. So she did what she could, and sometimes fell asleep with the faces of those children imprinted on her mind, bringing her tears and nightmares in the middle of the night.
“What would you do if you quit your princess job?” he asked.
“It’s not the kind of job you get to quit. You’re born into it, and you die in it.”
“Sounds like the Marine Corps,” he noted with a grin. “Here.” He handed her a can of beer. “You sound like you could use a drink.”
She opened the pop top and broke a nail doing so. “Is there a glass?”
He took a sip from his aluminum can before answering. “In the kitchen, I suppose. You should go get one.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “So that you can grab that last piece of pizza? I think not. I can drink from the can.”
Again they both simultaneously reached for the pizza slice. This time he was the one who flashed an endearingly boyish smile at her and she was the one who paused, just for a second, but it was enough for him to grab the slice.
“I was full anyway,” she loftily informed him.
“Yeah, right,” Mark scoffed.
“You know it just now occurs to me that at Prudence’s wedding, all those Marines addressed every woman as “ma’am.” You haven’t done that with me.”
“Because you’re a princess. I figured you’ve been ma’amed enough in your lifetime.”
She grinned at him. “You’re right about that.”
“What do you say we watch some TV?”
“That sounds fine,” she replied, settling into a more comfortable position on the couch. Noting the way he was staring at her bare feet, she said, “You know, there was a time in my country’s history when seeing a princess’s bare feet without being married to said princess would result in your being thrown into the castle dungeon.”
“How long ago was that rule in effect?” he cautiously asked as he reached for the remote control.
“You don’t have to worry.” She patted his arm reassuringly, very much aware of the warmth of his bare skin beneath her fingertips. Her fingers still hummed when she returned them to her lap. “I believe it stopped being enforced in the 1890s. Besides, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen my bare feet,” she reminded him. “You won’t get thrown into the palace dungeon because you saw me without my glass slippers.”
“That’s a relief.” He turned on the TV only to be stunned by the X-rated scene being shown.
“Your friend has interesting tastes in television programming,” Vanessa noted dryly, before leaning forward to peer at the screen. “Is that whipping cream they’re using?”
“I have no idea, and I don’t aim on finding out,” Mark said, hastily clicking on another channel.
“And just when things were getting interesting,” she said with a grin, enjoying his discomfiture, as she had earlier at the department store.
“We can always turn back to that channel if you really want to see it,” he said, challenging her.
“No, that’s okay. This looks like the evening news. Wait a second, stay on that station. That’s the department store we visited this afternoon!”
Vanessa’s heart stopped. Had she been found out already?
Chapter Six
“Vanessa didn’t even realize she was trembling until she grabbed hold of Mark’s arm, needing something solid to hold on to as the room seemed to spin around her.
“This was ground zero for Marital Madness—the biggest bridal sale in the city. It only comes once a year and the shoppers race for the deals,” the reporter said in her eager TV voice.
Film footage showed the mayhem. And there in the middle of it all was Vanessa. Well, not her exactly. Her Yankees baseball cap was all you could see. And Mark’s back, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
“This couple seemed caught off guard by what was going on around them,” the reporter said in a voice-over.
“You’ve got that right,” Mark muttered, remembering the adrenaline shooting through his body when he’d lost sight of Vanessa. He hadn’t felt that way since his earliest days in the Marines, when he’d been stationed in the Gulf.
Yes, he’d been caught off guard, all right. By a woman who adored French fries and knocked him for a loop with her kisses.
“Don’t show our faces, please don’t show our faces,” Vanessa was whispering, her hold on his arm tightening.
“Hey, Princess, chill out,” Mark teased her. He couldn’t help himself. That was how he reacted when faced with fear. He used humor to defuse the situation.
Vanessa, however, didn’t appear to appreciate his stress-management style. Drawing herself into what he called her “regal” mode, she stiffly removed her hand from his arm. He immediately missed the warmth of her fingers on his bare skin.
“I am perfectly chilled,” she informed him.
Her voice was certainly chilly enough, it was darn right arctic.
“Look, they’ve gone on to another story,” he said. “No one could have identified us from that brief shot of the back of our heads. It was a close call, however. I told you we shouldn’t have gone shopping.”
Vanessa might have let things slide, had he not added that last sentence. But there was no way she was letting that one go by unanswered. “You should have noticed that a camera crew was there. That’s your job.”
Her comment stung because he’d already thought of that fact himself. But aloud he said, “Sure, blame me.”
“Why did you agree to do this job?” she bluntly demanded.
Mark deliberately kept his face impassive, but inside he froze. Had she somehow guessed what was really going on? No, she couldn’t have.
“I agreed because Prudence asked me.” And because I was ordered to. Suspecting that Vanessa would take off, King Leopold of Volzemburg had also suspected she’d contact her good friend Prudence and through her, one of the Wilders. That’s why he’d bugged her phones at the hotel. The king was one step ahead of his rebellious daughter. Mark had been ordered to keep tabs on Vanessa and to report directly back to her father. Those orders came via Mark’s C.O. from the highest members of the U.S. Government and the U.S. State Department.
“Sometimes you act as if you’re here against your will.” Her gaze was direct, daring him to lie to her.
“I’m a Marine,” he reminded her. “I don’t do anything against my will.” Little could Mark know that his words would come back to haunt him one day soon.
“I still say that we should have watched the end of the Lakers game instead of the first inning of the baseball game,” Vanessa said four hours later.
To which Mark replied, “You had the remote control.”
He’d given it to her as a peace offering and they’d spent the past few hours channel surfing on cable TV.
“Let’s see what else is on…” She flicked past CNN and a home shopping channel before stopping. “Ah, Chocolat,” she sighed. “One of my favorites.”
“More food?” he groaned.
“No, Chocolat the movie.” She pointed to the screen. “Haven’t you seen this yet? It’s wonderful.”
Juliette Binoche radiated on the large TV screen. “She’s a looker,” Mark noted approvingly.
Did that mean he preferred brunettes to blondes? Vanessa wondered before becoming caught up again in the story of a woman showing up in a new town with the tempta
tion of chocolate.
“Did all that chocolate make you homesick?” Mark asked when the movie ended.
She shook her head. But the love scenes with Johnny Depp had vividly brought to mind the kisses she’d shared today with Mark.
And here she was, spending the night with him. Yes, he said he’d be sleeping out here on the couch and she’d be in the bedroom, but still…there was something inexplicably intimate about sharing the apartment with him. And watching that romantic movie with him had only increased her awareness of Mark and the situation they found themselves in.
Vanessa also loved the way Juliette Binoche’s character learned to make her own path in life, and not merely to follow in her mother’s footsteps. It was a message that spoke strongly to Vanessa’s heart.
Her heart was vulnerable to Mark. How wonderful it would be if she were just a young woman working in New York, free to choose any man she desired. And heaven knew she desired Mark. How empowering it must be to have that kind of freedom.
Of course, the case could be made that as a princess she did have a certain amount of power of her own. A royal proclamation would not get Mark’s attention, however. His friend, Dr. Rosenthal, had already told her that Mark was the proud one in his family. She could just imagine how he’d respond to being pursued by a princess.
Besides, Vanessa had her pride as well. Mark clearly had a certain amount of charm and confidence where women were concerned. She was not the first female to notice his dark blue eyes or powerfully built body. She probably was one of the few females to have knocked him on his derriere, however. That realization gave her pleasure.
“What are you smiling about?” Mark asked suspiciously.
“I was just remembering how I knocked you on your…keister.”
“I fell down, you didn’t knock me down.”
“Fall down a lot do you?” she teased him.
“Only when you’re around.”
He was looking at her in a way that both disarmed and aroused her. She caught her breath at the flare of hunger reflected in his eyes. Did he look at every woman this way, or did this mean that he was experiencing the same attraction she was?
“You have a way of knocking a guy off balance,” he murmured.
“I do?”
He nodded, his gaze lowering to her mouth. “Yes, you do.”
“I wasn’t aware of that.” Was he remembering their kisses as she had? Did he want to kiss her again?
“Well, now you know.”
“Why are we whispering?” she asked.
“Because then I have to lean closer to hear you.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
He shook his head, as if to clear his jumbled thoughts. “No,” he ruefully acknowledged. “That’s probably not a good thing.” He reached across her for the remote and clicked off the television. “I think we’ve watched enough for one night.”
She was tempted to watch him all night. And not just to watch him, but to kiss him, to feel his body close to hers.
Tomorrow was another day, she reminded herself. There was no need to do anything without thinking things through a bit first.
“Don’t you have cable TV where you come from?” Mark was asking.
“When I’m traveling, I’m never in my hotel room long enough to watch TV,” Vanessa replied. “At home we have a few televisions in the palace, but none have cable. My father doesn’t approve of the cultural influence and excessive violence of the American media. He thinks he can keep our country timeless like Camelot. He can’t. The people of Volzemburg have satellite dishes on their homes. They get all these stations and I don’t. You can’t keep the world out.”
“Maybe your father is just trying to be protective.”
“Overprotective is more like it,” she muttered.
“So you two never got along?”
“Having a king for a father makes for a strained relationship,” she told him. “How about you?”
“My dad is a retired Marine, and I’m sure he believes that outranks a king.”
Vanessa had to laugh. “I remember your dad from Prudence’s wedding. He seemed nice.”
“Nice?” Now Mark was the one who laughed. “That’s not how I’d describe him.”
“How would you describe him then?”
“Honest, blunt, dependable, loyal.”
“All admirable characteristics.”
“Yes, they are.”
“He must be proud that all his sons are Marines.”
“He wasn’t thrilled with me becoming an officer,” Mark admitted.
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “We come from a long line of enlisted men.”
“So? I would think that would make your accomplishments all the greater.”
“Not in my dad’s eyes.”
“I know how that feels.” Vanessa’s eyes met his, her gaze filled with understanding. “Being judged by someone you love and coming up short. It hurts.”
She waited for him to brag that Marines don’t get hurt, but he didn’t make that claim. In fact, he just clammed up, as if regretting having said as much as he had. Sensing he wanted some space, she said good-night and retired to her bedroom. Before leaving the living room, she turned back to look at Mark over her shoulder, but he was already totally engrossed in a laptop computer he’d pulled from his duffel bag.
Mark thought about Vanessa’s words all night as he tossed and turned on the couch. There was no way his dad had anything in common with King Leopold. Sure, maybe the two men were autocratic and used to getting their own way. But Mark’s dad would never do the stuff the king had done to Vanessa, spying on her, belittling her.
So his dad had certain expectations where Mark was concerned. Bill Wilder had expectations for all his sons. There was nothing wrong with that. That’s what a father did.
Yet Mark could still remember the look his dad had given him when he’d first told him his decision to apply to OCS, Officer Candidate School, in Quantico, Virginia. It hadn’t been the look of a proud father. He’d appeared puzzled, maybe disappointed even.
And there had been the comments about Mark’s latest tour of duty—a staff job with a general in Washington. His brothers had good-naturedly teased him about being a “staff weenie.” Of course, he’d immediately had to wrestle them to the ground to prove his physical toughness.
But it irked him that he’d had to prove anything.
So he was a little less rough around the edges than his brothers. So he’d developed some social graces they lacked. So he wasn’t pursuing an exciting combat command at the moment. He had a plan here.
Staff jobs were more advantageous to his military career in the long run. He’d worked with a special-warfare unit dedicated to combating terrorists. Rewarding work, yes. High adrenaline, for sure. Security had always been an area of special interest for him.
He was involved with security now, even if he was working at a staff job. This assignment with Vanessa could be considered a security operation. He had to keep her secure in order to keep the relations between the United States and Volzemburg smooth. And while it was true that a country whose major export was chocolate might not be a major ally at first glance, closer inspection showed that Volzemburg’s geographical proximity to Eastern Europe made it important.
How had he gotten himself into such a sticky situation? He hadn’t done it on his own, he’d been ordered into this mess.
Not that his orders included kissing Vanessa. The princess. He needed to keep thinking of her as the princess and not as Vanessa, a woman he was attracted to.
He was not attracted to her, he harshly ordered himself. And if said attraction did exist, it was to cease immediately. He could not allow himself to feel anything for her.
Maybe the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her again was due to the fact that he’d gone too long without a woman. That must be it. That had to be it. Anything else was unacceptable.
Mark sighed. This had all the makings of a very
messy mission.
But then Mark didn’t join the Marine Corps because he thought it was going to be easy. He expected it to be tough. No pain, no gain. Above all, you must never quit or give up.
Leadership was a critical part of being a Marine. And the ability of the corps’ leaders to inspire those under their authority made the Marine Corps a success disproportionate to its size. After all, it was actually the smallest of all the branches of the armed services, yet it had the biggest reputation and the highest morale.
Jeez, now he was sounding like a recruiting commercial.
His inability to sleep was entirely Vanessa’s fault. He’d only been with her for one day, and already she’d disrupted his thought processes.
That wasn’t all she’d done, either. She’d surprised him, a man who prided himself on never being surprised. And she’d kissed him. How could he have known that she’d turn out to be so…tempting?
A Marine was used to resisting temptation and enforcing self-discipline. He was a “Mustang,” an enlisted man who’d worked his way up the ranks to become an officer. He was expected to lead men who considered themselves as tough as nails, so he had to be even tougher. And he was. Normally.
The problem was that nothing about this situation was normal. It wasn’t normal for him to have the slightest doubts about the appropriateness of his mission, or to have his loyalty waver in the slightest bit.
Mark sighed again and shoved off the tangled sheet to hit the deck for a series of push-ups. While he was awake he might as well maintain his strength. He had a feeling he was going to need a lot of it to handle this sexy princess.
When Vanessa woke the next morning, she wasn’t sure where she was. Then it all came back to her. She was playing hooky with a hunky Marine. Which explained the erotic dreams she’d had last night in the lapping confines of the water bed.
She’d worn her I Love New York T-shirt to bed. Somehow she’d managed to pack only the top to her purple silk pajamas and not the bottoms. She didn’t have much experience packing for herself and clearly she didn’t have the hang of it yet. Of course, she had been working under extenuating circumstances at the time. Mark had been demanding that she hurry up, and she’d still been recovering from the kiss he’d given her…and she’d returned.