The Prince's Runaway Lover (Men of the Zodiac)

by Robin Covington

  “Anything between us is impossible.”

  “I thought you said I was the one in charge?” He stepped closer, the silky material of his suit jacket brushing against her arm and making her shiver in the heat of the afternoon. Everything about this man lit her up, her body issuing every signal for him to stoke the embers. “And, again, I think that is a conversation we can have later once we see where this thing goes.”

  “I’m not Cinderella.”

  “I’m not Prince Charming.” He reached a hand out and tangled his fingers with hers, leaning down to bridge the foot-long difference in their height so they were eye to eye. His fingers caressed her knuckles softly, warring with the almost-physical touch of his gaze on her face. “I’m Nick and I want to get to know Isabel better. Just a guy who thinks a woman is beautiful and interesting and wants the chance to see what could happen between them if given a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Oh no. No. No. No.

  Why did he have to be sexy and tempting and offer up everything she absolutely wanted to hear? Standing in front of him with his blue eyes and almost-smile and everything in his demeanor telling her that he’d back off the minute she asked him to. And she had to.

  He had no idea what a bad idea she was and she had to protect him from that because she could never tell him, never let him in on her secret.

  “I can’t and it’s all over the news that you’re on the great bride search and we both know that isn’t a position I would even apply for. So there’s no point to us pursuing anything beyond friendship. I’m sorry.”

  His face fell as quickly as he dropped her hand and stepped back. Isabel examined his face for signs of how he was feeling. He wasn’t angry, there was no trace of that. He was…resigned.

  “I understand,” he said, his tone low and lacking the edge of laughter that she liked so much. She regretted that she’d done that to him, likely killed even the possibility of friendship. She let the ache of disappointment linger, no use in denying what she was pushing away. It was her loss. “I don’t like it but I respect you and our…friendship.”

  His full mouth twisted with the irony of the last word and she scrambled to say something that might ease the heavy weight of this moment but she had nothing. She definitely wasn’t going to give in to the urge to close the gap between them, slide her hands back into his and tell him that the woman would also like a chance to get to know the man behind the prince. She couldn’t.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Thank you for being honest with me.” He glanced at his watch and started backing away. “I’m due at a meeting with the Red Cross to discuss the refugees. I’m hoping they’ll give me some idea of what Callanos can do officially as a nation.”

  “Have you been to the camp?”

  He shook his head. “My people are arranging a visit later this week. I’m expecting the report from parliament tomorrow morning and I plan to make a decision by the end of the week. I’m frustrated it has taken this long to get the information I requested.”

  “Do you think you’ll get the real picture if you go there with a huge entourage?”

  He frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can’t arrive unannounced. It will send the entire camp into chaos and my people in the palace would lose their minds. I’ve told them I want time to see the entire camp and meet the people. I think it’s the best I can do.”

  “It’s too bad you can’t sneak in and take a look around.”

  “True.” He looked at her, his gaze assessing. “Have you been there?”

  She nodded. “I volunteer there on my days off. I’m going tomorrow morning.”

  “And?”

  “I just…”

  “Yes? Tell me what you think.”

  “They need your help.” She paused, not sure how far into the weeds or her opinion he wanted but when he urged her on, she spoke. “There’s lots of red tape and corruption, and too many things standing between those people and the help they need. I don’t think you’re going to get that story in your report or on your photo op visit.” She raised her hands to display the residue of soil on her hands from her labor. “Sometimes if you want to really know something, you have to get your hands dirty.”

  Chapter Six

  Nick hoped he wasn’t too late to catch Isabel.

  He paused at the top of the back stairs used only by the staff and listened for sounds of anyone coming up the last flight that stood between him and the area that led to the garage. It seemed like forever since he’d gone this way and taken off into the city in his black Maybach Exelero. Actually, he knew exactly how long it had been: nine months.

  He’d been home for a short visit and had convinced Alec to go out and drive with him one evening. Two brothers—not the king and the next-in-line—just two brothers who laughed and told filthy jokes as they caught up on their lives. Alec had been happy, content with his life, and Nick had already been planning his next escape via adventure, failing to really cherish the time. If he’d known that the next time he saw his brother would be when he identified his body, he would have slowed down. Just a little.

  Shaking off memories that served no purpose but to make him regret things he had no power to change, Nicholas descended the stairs and opened the door, stepping out into the rising heat of mid-morning. He cut across the cobbled pavestones, bypassing the garage, and cut around the back to jump on the path that led to the cottages on the edge of the garden. He looked to the right and then the left, not seeing any of the Royal Guard. He’d told Chris where he was going but they were going to be pissed anyway.

  It couldn’t be helped. He had to do what he had to do. If the council wanted him to rule, then they had to know he was going to do it his way. He paused for a moment and considered the potential backlash of this course of action if he got caught. He didn’t think it fell squarely into the category of “scandal” but it wouldn’t be a popular move.

  Isabel’s cottage was just ahead and he covered ground quickly, knowing that he might be too late. He knocked on the door and waited, impatiently counting off the seconds. He knocked again, this time a little harder.

  “Paul, it’s my day off!” Isabel’s voice grew louder as she neared the door and he smiled at the southern-twang-tinged annoyance. She flung the door open and she was as he expected, wearing her usual flip-flops and her eyes bright with interest. “Nick?”

  “So, I’m Nick again?” He leaned on the doorframe and smiled down at her. Pleasure spread in his chest at the sight of her, but something about her was different today. He examined her closely, the answer coming to him fairly quickly. “Your hair is down.”

  Isabel paused, reaching her hand up to rake through the dark curls cascading around her shoulders. Nick wanted to reach out himself, wrap a tendril around his own fingers, and enjoy the silky glide of it against his flesh. But he didn’t. That was not something friends did.

  “I was getting ready to put it up.” She half turned toward the inside of her home, turning back when he shook his head.

  “Leave it down. It’s beautiful.”

  She blushed and their eyes locked across the threshold, her cheeks pink and her lip redder when she released it from between her teeth.

  “You’re very beautiful.” It slipped out and when she broke eye contact and looked down at her purple-painted toes he jumped in to fix his error. “Sorry, not something a friend would say, huh?”

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head and the laugh he liked so much, the one somewhere between full-on belly laugh and a giggle. “No, it isn’t, but thank you.” He smiled too when she reached out a hand and tugged him inside. “Come inside. I presume from the hat and the hoodie that you’re incognito.”

  “You’re very observant.” He grinned and reached out to tug a curl loose from her earring. “As well as beautiful.”

  “You said that. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here dressed like that.”

  Nick looked down at his clothes. “I’m ju
st wearing jeans, T-shirt, boots.”

  “I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit or running gear.” She tilted her head and let her gaze wander down his form and he felt every single place her eyes lingered over him. “You look good. Casual but good.”

  Isabel might say that she just wanted to keep this in the friend zone, but he wasn’t alone in this attraction. It was a small consolation but one he would take to soothe his bruised ego.

  “Do I look ordinary?”

  “Very.”

  “Good, then no one will recognize me when I go to the refugee camp with you today.”

  “When you what?”

  He paced deeper inside the cottage, taking in the small but open kitchen, the fireplace with the large couch in front of it. Nick knew that down the hallway there would be a bedroom and bath. The perfect size for a single staff member. He could pick out the personalized touches placed around the room by Isabel: a colorful rug near the sink, pieces of pottery on the mantle and the windowsill and other sundry pieces of handmade art scattered around the room. The result was a space that was calming and vibrant at the same time.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. My landlord is very bad at getting to the point.” She waved her hands around her head in a scattered manner. “He can’t focus.”

  He slid his gaze back to her, enjoying the roll of her eyes as he stretched out the time span on purpose. Her eyes narrowed and she gave him the universal hand signal to hurry the hell up already.

  “Nick, come on. I’ve got to go if I’m going to catch the bus.”

  He bit back his grin at being “Nick” once again and tried not to read too much into it.

  “I got the report from parliament and it was nothing but pages and pages of reasons why we should leave the refugees to the relief organizations, and plans to remove them from Callanos lands as quickly as possible, and definitely prior to any damage done to our tourist industry.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised,” she said, leaning against the small dining table. “But they don’t want to do anything for them? Just throw them out like garbage? These people have lost everything.”

  He held his hands up to ward off her growing anger. “It doesn’t sit well with me either and the more I thought about what you said, I determined you were correct. I’m not going to see the real issues if I go as Crown Prince Nicholas. This is important and I’m not confident my council is giving me all the information I need to know.” Nick paused, knowing he was revealing things that would cause him interminable problems if they were leaked to the press and Isabel was not someone he knew well. She had secrets but in his gut he felt he could trust her with this. Or he just wanted to trust her. “I can trust my own eyes and ears.” He stepped forward and tugged the baseball cap further down over his eyes. “If I go as Nick, I’ll see the real deal and that is what I really need.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise but her lush mouth slowly twisted up into a smile. “I like it.”

  “Then let’s go. I’ve got about four hours before the palace guards have a collective coronary and come and get me. I can’t afford any kind of controversy right now.”

  Isabel turned and grabbed a backpack off the table and walked past him. She turned at the door, one hand on the knob, and looked back at him, her smile all kinds of sexy and mischievous. “Well, come on Cinderella. I’ll get you back before your bus turns into a pumpkin.”

  …

  Nick blended in well for a prince.

  They’d made a mad dash for the town square just outside the palace gates and jumped on the next bus that would take them to the part of town where the refugee camp was accessible. The bus was not crowded at mid-morning on a weekday and they’d slid into the backseat far away from the five or six other passengers. He looked like any other guy in his late twenties in his well-worn jeans, leather boots, and a hoodie covering a form-fitting white T-shirt. He’d taken off the light jacket and her mouth watered at the cut muscles of his arms, biceps bulging, and the lower half of one of his many tattoos displayed beyond the edge of the fabric. She remembered an article in a magazine about his ink and how he didn’t quite fit the mold of a typical prince. She now believed every word of it… He was not what you expected.

  “Is this the first time you’ve been on public transportation?” she asked when his head swiveled in her direction and he caught her staring at his body. Isabel ignored his smirk.

  “Oh no. I’ve traveled around the world for my sporting events just like everyone else on my team. Sometimes we slept on the floor of our bus depending on how remote the free climb location was and the amenities of the locale. I enjoyed being one of the guys.” He smiled at her, his eyes rolling a bit as he continued. “You didn’t hear my mother complaining about it all the way in Alabama?”

  For a split second she almost corrected him, stating that she would have been in Oklahoma, but caught herself at the last second. She got so wrapped up in Nick that she forgot why she was even here at all.

  “So, she didn’t approve of your athletic career?”

  “My parents were proud of my achievements, but they couldn’t understand how I wanted to live my life. My mother cannot understand why I would want to give up all the stuff that comes with being a prince.” He paused and looked out the window, his practiced layer of reserve not entirely hiding that this was a tough conversation for him. “Alec, my brother, he got it. Got me.”

  “You two were close?” When he turned back to her the depths of his eyes were navy, almost black with his pain, and she immediately felt terrible for bringing it up. “You don’t have to answer that. Stupid question.”

  “It’s fine. No one remembers I lost my brother. We all lost a king but he was my best friend.” He blinked hard and transferred his gaze to a point over her shoulder but she could feel the emotion rolling off him. He’d been thrown into his new role the moment he’d learned his brother was dead. Did he ever get a chance to grieve? “The guy I would ask for advice about all this isn’t here.”

  Isabel reached out and took his hand where it rested on his thigh. Nick whipped his gaze back to her own, surprise the number one emotion on his face. Sure, it might walk the gray line between friendship and something more, but she couldn’t sit here when he shared the pain of his loss with her. Nick’s lips quirked into a grateful smile while he squeezed her hand in thanks.

  “Take this current situation. I know what I would do if I was just thinking about myself. We’d have been at that camp weeks ago, but I keep measuring myself against what Alec or my father would have done. The country has so much to get used to: my father stepping down three years ago due to his dementia; Alec’s death. They’ve barely had time to get used to the wandering prince finally coming home to take over.”

  “You want to be sure.” Nick was not a cautious man to the point of indecision—you didn’t get to the top of Mount Everest if you were—but he wasn’t reckless. His prior work had life or death consequences, but he didn’t avoid acting, he just made sure it was the right choice. “You need to get your feet under you. The first big decision is the hardest and then you’ll know your way.”

  Nick’s head tilted to the right just the tiniest bit as shock lifted his eyebrows. They remained like that for a few long moments, his gaze searching and her own as open as she could make it. She hoped he knew he had a friend in her, for as long as she was here.

  Abruptly, Nick leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek. The kiss was sweet, lingering, and warm, and the bus jostled them against each other as it made its way into the less glamorous part of the capital city. No part of Callanos was rundown or ugly, but there had to be places where the less glamorous logistics were accomplished that made the casinos and luxury shops shine like jewels. The refugee camp was wedged into this side of town, out of sight, but clearly not out of his mind.

  “Thank you, Isabel.” Nick pulled back, murmuring the words against her skin as he withdrew back to his position on the seat. Her own pulse rate
was elevated, her skin even warmer from the contact. She found herself squeezing his hand in acknowledgment and he shifted them so their fingers were intertwined as they continued their journey. She could not muster the strength to pull away.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked, his question jolting Isabel out of her thoughts. She pulled back physically from him and the question, but he hung onto her hand, turning his face toward her once again. “Did I ask the wrong thing again?”

  She shook her head, kicking herself for her stupid reaction that would accomplish nothing but put him on alert that personal questions made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t like people hadn’t asked before, but with Nick it felt like it was leading to something, leading to exposure and all that would bring down on her shoulders.

  “No, nothing wrong at all. I’m just not used to talking about my family.”

  “If I keep hitting on sore subjects, just tell me and I’ll back off.” He leaned down to make sure she was looking at him. “I know you’ve got…secrets…personal things you don’t want to talk about and I can live with that. Just tell me that it’s none of my business and we’re cool. All I ask is that you don’t lie to me. Sound fair?”

  Of course it was perfectly fair and reasonable, and it made her feel like all kinds of a shit. Nick was sharing, opening up to her and inviting her in, and all she had to give in return was half-truths and avoidance. Isabel turned away from the open candor of his blue eyes and spoke the only version of the truth she could give him.

  “I don’t want to be unfair to you.”

  “As long as you tell me what you can and don’t lie, I don’t consider that unfair.”

  “I have one sister, Irene. She’s married and has a daughter who is three years old.” Isabel blinked away the wetness that blurred the passing scenery and took a deep breath. “I don’t like talking about them because when I left…it wasn’t a good thing and I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again.”