Dear Prince Charming

by Donna Kauffman

  She set her wineglass on the table, her hand a little shaky. “I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly. She wanted to hug him, rock him, something. But she knew he’d take it as pity, when she merely meant it as comfort. Like she could do anything to erase what had happened to him, or soften it. “I’m in awe of your bond with Eric,” she said finally. “Maybe even a little jealous. Envious, at least. I’ve never found that.” She held his gaze. “What you’re doing for him now is no small thing. It’s not just about being the face of Prince Charming. It’s about accepting him for who he is and not judging him. I imagine telling you was probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. And you didn’t blink. You’re both very lucky.”

  Jack set his glass on the table as well, and when he leaned forward and reached for her, she saw his hands weren’t completely steady, either.

  “Come here,” he said quietly, taking her and pulling her back with him until she was lying on top of him. He settled her so her head rested beneath his chin. He tucked his ankles around hers and looped an arm around her waist, stroking her back with one hand, her hair with the other. They lay in silence like that, his heartbeat thrumming beneath her ear. Thank you,” he whispered against her hair, so softly she wasn’t sure she’d really heard him.

  In response, she just pressed her palm over his heart, and left it there. And as time continued to pass quietly, while the candles flickered beside them and she lay in his arms, she knew she’d made possibly the biggest mistake of her life. She’d fallen in love. At precisely the wrong time, and with precisely the wrong man.

  The morning after

  Guys can royally screw it up, but not always for the reason you think. Sure, there are those who are awkward and tentative because it was just one night and they don’t want you to assume too much. But sometimes he’s awkward and tentative because it meant more to him than he thought it would . . . and now he’s afraid you won’t assume enough. Only he’s not sure how to let you know that. So stick around, give him a chance to do it right.

  Chapter 19

  With one towel wrapped around his hips and using another to dry his hair, Jack emerged from their bedroom the following morning to find Valerie already seated at a table in the main room, a phone at one ear and a pen poised over a legal pad.

  Rather than interrupt, he leaned against the doorframe and took the opportunity to simply observe her in her natural habitat. Hair swept up in a neat twist, another perfectly tailored suit—this one the color of a mango—adorning her trim body. A body he now knew intimately. Every curve and dip. His body stirred . . . and so did his heart.

  He’d woken up alone, sprawled on the love seat where they’d fallen asleep. The guttered candles and half-eaten dinners had been removed, and the comforter from the bed had been thrown over him. He’d heard the shower running and his immediate instinct had been to join her there, pick up where they’d left off the night before.

  Only where they’d left off hadn’t been the let’s-get-it-out-of-our-systems-sex it had started out to be. That had changed almost from the moment he’d touched her. They’d shared far more than their bodies. Stories had been told, revelations made, and even the silent moments had shifted things. Between them, inside him. If he was honest, he’d admit that shift had started even before they’d begun peeling each other’s clothes off.

  In fact, lying there alone . . . and for the first time not at all relieved to have avoided morning-after conversation . . . he’d been forced to admit that it had probably never been about the sex. Without even realizing it, he’d been poised to leap from the moment she’d delivered that first wry smile. He just hadn’t been willing to admit it until now.

  So he’d purposely waited for the shower to end, then gave her another healthy chunk of time to dress before he’d gotten up and headed to the bathroom door. A chickenshit response, perhaps, but it was simply too much to handle all at once. He needed to sort things out first, decide what in the hell it was he was feeling, and what he wanted to do about it.

  And part of him wanted to gauge where she was this morning, too. Maybe it had been the darkness, the wine, the explosive sex making him feel this way. The laughter, the quiet whispers, the way she’d laid her hand over his heart. He shut that path down. For all he knew, she’d come buzzing out of the bathroom, peck him on the cheek, or worse, make some kind of joke, then settle into work as if nothing earth-shattering had taken place last night.

  Which was when he’d sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Because it had been for him. Hard to escape that conclusion.

  So . . . which reaction was he hoping for, then? Did he want her to come out and be mushy all over him? Or would it be better if they both just agreed that it had been fun, but now it was back to business? He didn’t know which conclusion terrified him more.

  She’d come out of the bathroom before he could decide. And she’d seemed startled to see him there, sitting on the bed, watching the door . . . and now her. As if she weren’t quite prepared for this moment, either. Which, somehow, had settled him better than anything else could have. If they were both screwed up over the right way to handle this, then there was no wrong way to handle it.

  So he’d gotten up off the bed, walked over to her, and brushed a finger down the side of her face. She was dressed, but her hair was still wrapped in a towel, her face free of makeup. “Morning,” he’d said.

  “Morning,” she’d managed.

  And it had taken every last scrap of will he’d owned not to haul her up against him and kiss the daylights out of her, then strip her out of that tidy suit and drag her back to bed. What stopped him was that the motivation behind the need wasn’t about getting some. It was about not letting go of her.

  “I, uh, thought I’d do my hair and makeup out here so you could have the shower.” She shifted away, just slightly, but enough that he dropped his hand. “I ordered up some coffee. I never made those phone calls last night . . . and we still need to go over today’s schedule.”

  So . . . he’d thought. It was going to be back to business. And though it made no sense whatsoever, given his own personal confusion, that pissed him off. Maybe because she’d managed to get her shit together better, or faster, than he had; he wasn’t sure.

  He’d stepped back, held on to his temper, and said, “So, what am I wearing today?”

  She had sensed the shift in tension, but merely motioned to the bathroom. “I hung a few things on the back of the door.” And then the bell had rung, announcing room service, and she’d escaped.

  The long, hot shower hadn’t pounded any answers into him. Neither was standing here, staring at her. He still didn’t know what he wanted. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He wanted Valerie. But how, and for how long? At the moment, he was thinking forever. But then, he’d been in that place before. And look where that had ended up.

  As soon as he thought that, he discarded it. No. He’d never been in this place. He’d never felt such powerfully strong emotions for anyone. He’d never once felt such a strong sense of rightness. He’d wandered the world without ever really knowing what it was he’d needed to feel whole, until he’d stepped into her arms and found himself in that one place he’d always belonged. And that was the true source of his fear. Because those feelings intensified every self-doubt he’d ever had. Would he figure out how to make it work this time? Would she be willing to work just as hard?

  Jesus, listen to him! Here he was, pondering eternity, and she didn’t even know how he felt. And if he got up the nerve to tell her? He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips. Knowing Valerie, she’d come up with a laundry list of reasons why he had no business feeling that way. And though she’d probably be right, it wouldn’t change anything. The real question was, how did she feel about him? And could he shove away all his insecurities long enough to risk finding out?

  He glanced across the main room to the other bedroom door. It still stood wide open. “Where are our roomies this morning?” he asked, startling her.<
br />
  Her cheeks flushed instantly, making him wish he’d been paying attention to what she’d been saying . . . and to whom.

  She ducked her chin and lowered her voice. “Yes, it was. And I can’t tell you anything else. Because he’s standing right here!” She glanced up then, and grinned through her embarrassment. “A towel. Uh-uh. Better than that. I know!”

  Jack’s eyebrows lifted when she actually giggled. It was deep and throaty, kinda sexy, even if it was at his expense.

  “I really have to go,” she said, not bothering to whisper now. “No, because we have work to do. Mind outta the gutter.” She laughed again. “I know. I’m having the same problem. I’ll try to catch you later, after the taping.” She finally hung up, then cleared her throat and took a deep, dignifying breath before looking at him.

  He leaned against the door, folded his arms. “Who was that? It sounded very, I don’t know, slumber party.”

  Despite her attempts at reasserting her professional mien, her face lit up. There was a touch of wonder and maybe a little yearning in her expression. And what little piece of his heart he might have still controlled slipped swiftly from his grasp. He didn’t even try to stop it.

  “That was Jenn, actually.”

  “Ah,” he said, as if that explained it all. Which it did. “You two are getting tight, then?”

  She cocked her head. “Yeah. I think maybe we might be.” Her smile turned a touch sly. “Why, feeling threatened?”

  He pushed away from the door and stepped into the room. “Hey, she might be five-feet-nothing, but hurricanes could take energy lessons from her. And team her up with you? I’m thinking we need to warn the Western Hemisphere that life as they know it is about to change.”

  She laughed and rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, what power we wield.” As he continued to close the distance between them, she went back to straightening her pads of paper and her pens, more out of habit than anything. Jack enjoyed watching her fuss . . . and try to come to terms with her fledgling new friendship with Jenn.

  But he couldn’t help wanting to redirect her thoughts to her other fledgling new relationship. With him.

  “I, uh, talked to the booker for Letterman,” she said, her expression shifting a bit as she appeared to be trying to read his thoughts.

  He wondered what she surmised, wondered if she’d be shocked to know the truth.

  “They went ahead and tapped someone else to do an appearance, but they’d still love it if you’d read the Top Ten,” she told him. “The taping is scheduled for later this afternoon.”

  She was nervous, he realized, and for once he didn’t think it was about his appearance as Prince Charming. Which intrigued him, and gave him the edge he so desperately needed. “Sounds like a plan.” He nodded to the opposite bedroom. “Where’s the darling duo this morning?”

  Valerie glanced at the open door and shrugged. “I don’t know. The door was open when I came out, and no one’s home. I’m not sure they ever made it back last night. There are no messages, either.” She tapped her pen on her legal pad. “You look surprised.”

  “Not surprised, really. Not that they didn’t come back, at any rate. I guess I’m still getting used to the gusto Eric is charging into this new life with. It’s not like him to be wild and irresponsible.” He sighed. “Though maybe he’s due for a little of that.” He stopped across the table from her and leaned on one of the chairs. “I’m sure they’ll pop up when we least expect them. Or where.”

  “You’re probably right. If it makes you feel any better, I worry about him, too. I know he and I have only just forged a friendship, but . . .” She trailed off, smiled briefly as she reached for her coffee mug. “He kind of grows on you really quickly. I care about him. I want him to be happy.”

  Jack had to bite his tongue to keep from asking her what would make her happy. He already knew the answer to that: getting this early media blitz over and done with so she could settle into her job. Into her newfound success, her niche. What he didn’t know was where he might, or if he even could, fit into that.

  He was happy for her, cared enough to want to make sure this went smoothly for her sake now as well as Eric’s. She’d worked hard; she deserved the success they’d achieved. As for him? His plan had been to finish up what was left, then head off for parts unknown. Probably overseas. He’d considered selling his apartment, although he’d since reconsidered. At the time, because he’d wanted to stay more connected to Eric, do a better job at maintaining that friendship. And now? Well, Alexandria was quite close in proximity to . . . a certain row house he’d grown fond of, complete with a monster dog in the backyard. Maybe crossing paths when he was in town was all they’d ever have. He didn’t think that would be enough. But maybe it would have to be.

  It was then he realized the silence had spun out a bit, and that they were both staring at each other. And just like that, the air between them became charged, tension arced, and only part of it was sexual.

  Valerie spoke first. “Jack, I—about last night—”

  Whatever she’d been about to say was aborted by the sudden opening of the suite’s double doors and the bustling, unannounced arrival of the godmothers.

  “Hello, hello, darlings,” Aurora gushed as she wafted in, in a cloud of White Diamond.

  “Hello, indeed,” Vivian added, pausing just behind Aurora as she caught sight of Jack, who immediately realized he was still wearing a towel, and only a towel.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” he said with a slight bow. “The black one, then?” he directed to Valerie, as if they’d been discussing wardrobe and nothing more.

  “No,” she said, picking up right on cue. “The khaki and navy.” She crossed the room as Mercedes entered last. “What a nice surprise.”

  “Are you sure?” Vivian cut a glance at Jack as he walked into the bedroom and shut the door.

  He leaned against it and blew out a deep breath. There was nothing he could do about the other bedroom door being open. Hopefully they’d see the tumble of sheets and assume Valerie had slept in there. Forced explanations would only complicate things. Silently praying Eric and Brice stayed put wherever the hell they were, he shaved and dressed.

  The godmothers were still twittering about when he came back out. Well, Aurora was. Vivian had turned on the big-screen television and was watching the news. Mercedes was sitting at the table across from Valerie, going over a list of something or other.

  “There you are,” Aurora said, coming immediately toward him, hands outstretched. She took both of his hands in hers and squeezed tightly, making him wish she wore slightly fewer rings.

  He hid the wince with a smile. “Here I am, indeed.”

  “I was just telling Valerie that you’ve spawned quite the fan club.”

  “Fan club?” He shot a quick glance to Valerie, but she had her head bent with Mercedes’.

  “Yes, there is an absolute throng of women outside the hotel,” Aurora went on, almost giddy with excitement over this latest development, and apparently assuming he would be, too. “I guess it’s common knowledge where Chuck and Vicki put up their guests. Anyway,” her eyes sparkled as she squeezed his hands again, “they have signs and everything. I can’t decide which was more adorable. The one that said ‘Be My Prince’ or ‘Charm Me!’ ”

  “Personally, I liked the one that said ‘Prince Hottie,’ ” Vivian chimed in, winking at him from her perch on the armrest of the couch. She was wearing a typical Vivian outfit: a wild zebra-print, loosely flowing top over a pencil-slim, short black skirt with a slit up one side. Tinted stockings and dagger-heeled silver sandals completed the ensemble.

  “Honestly, Vivi.” Aurora shot her a quelling look, then beamed at Jack. “We were just saying that we can’t begin to express our thanks for all you’ve done. I know this is beyond the boundaries you initially had Eric establish for you, but you’ve done such a magnificent job.”

  Vivian waved her gold-stemmed cigarette holder in his direction. “Absolutely. You
’re so at home in front of the cameras. Which gobble you up, by the way,” she added, followed by a brief perusal of him that left no doubt she’d have likely gobbled him up, too, had there not been so many years between them. At least he hoped she’d consider the age difference a deterrent.

  “Thank you,” he finally managed.

  “I’m surprised you’ve waited so long to come out of the closet, as they say.”

  Jack felt Valerie’s gaze jump to him, but he carefully kept his expression casual. “Well, it’s all worked out to everyone’s advantage, so I guess the old saying is right. Everything happens when it does for a reason.” Keeping a smile on his face, he carefully withdrew his now numb fingers from Aurora’s grip and moved to the silver tea cart, where he poured himself a mug of coffee. “Can I get you ladies anything?”

  “I’ll have tea,” Aurora said, as Vivian merely sent him a suggestive little smile before turning her attention back to the television.

  Mercedes cleared her throat. “Valerie was telling me about the Letterman deal, Jack. Well done, and again, please accept our thanks for going above and beyond. We’re already getting amazing reports from the distributors.” She smiled and Jack found himself thinking she should do that more often. It softened her in ways he hadn’t thought possible. “It’s been a far more successful launch than we could have dreamed of. And we owe a great deal of that to you. In fact, I’ve just told Valerie that once we’re back in Washington, we’ll have to sit down with you and your manager and discuss an adjustment to your contract. You should be compensated for—”