Royal Bachelor (9 page)

“In movies, concealments like this don’t turn out well. But it’s your necks. Our guest seems to have disappeared,” said Jules.

Luke fairly ran to the loo. “Alice? Are you all right in there?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded tiny. “Um, just a second. I’m waiting for it to scoot.”

“I beg your pardon? Can I come in?”

“No! You’ll kill it.”

“What will I be killing?”

“A spider. Um, huge. On the door. On the door jamb. If we move, it might leap onto me or get squished.”

Luke sighed in relief. She hadn’t screamed. She was just waiting for it to ‘scoot’. But she sounded terrified.

“It won’t leap onto you, Alice. I’m coming in and pulling you out.”

“
Easy for you to say!
You’re not the one trapped in a tiny room with a spider!”

She squeaked when he opened the door. And then she expelled breath in relief when the spider just scuttled away to the ceiling, which made Alice walk away from under that ceiling and out into Luke’s arms.

“Whoa, that is really huge.” The spider was as big as his hand. Where did that come from? Fortunately, it found the window and went right out. He hoped it had another shelter away from the winter. And then there was only Alice, feeling so soft and so perfect inside the circle of his arms. He wished it had been a dragon or something a little more fearsome, and then he might at least be rewarded with a kiss. But holding her was a fine prize as well.

“Spiders are nice bugs,” she said. “But they do intimidate me.”

And then she seemed to notice where she was and blushed and pushed gently away.

Luke entered the loo next and splashed cold water on his face. He really was putty in her hands, and she hadn’t even done anything but be herself, soft, silky, smelling of apples. Gods above. What will happen if she seduced him? His life was already plotted before him. Certainly the royal blood could use an infusion from abroad, but how could he ask her to take up a lifestyle that even he disliked? He would grow old in his throne room, dreaming of the girl who got away. Well, he was resolved to create some good memories if they were all he would have of her.

He forced his mind away from the sweet smell of Alice and the curious way she stared at him with those grey eyes. He had to get a grip on himself. He thought instead of something far less pleasant, such as Jules and his SpongeBob boxers. But he caught himself still remembering the feel of Alice’s arms and breasts.

Oh, bollocks. Jules and his SpongeBob boxers. Jules in a thong. Jules sunbathing with Mrs. Meyers, the housekeeper at one of the cottages. With a shudder of revulsion Luke was free to leave the water closet.

When he went out, Alice was with the others on the balcony. They were all eating the sandwiches, even Alfred, defying Luke as always. Jules looked friendly rather than stern, his lips curled in a genuine half-smile rather than in displeasure.

“Are there still any for me?” Luke said.

Alice looked up at him with a smile and it was all he could do not to swoop down and nuzzle that neck. “Here,” she said, pushing her plate in front of the only remaining chair around the small wrought-iron and glass table. “I’ve eaten my fill. I claimed these for you to save them from Jules’s huge appetite.”

This sent Luke and Alfred into guffaws, because the real Jules hardly ate anything, not in front of them.

“I have to go anyway,” said Alice, and Luke immediately stopped laughing. Alice stood up. “I’m enjoying myself but I have chores and Sunday stuff to do.”

Jules had risen as soon as Alice did. Now he took Alice’s hand and bowed over it. “May I be of assistance?”

“Oh, thank you, no. I can manage.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Martelli.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Neville.”

Jules looked startled at the comeback. And then he smiled. Luke deftly pulled Alice out of there before Alfred could reach for her, leaving the bugger to simply call out, “See you again soon, Alice!”

In the living room, Luke slid his hand from her arm to her hand. “Do you have to go? You haven’t seen my bedroom yet.”

Alice laughed, already in her pretty lavender coat. “What a line! By all means, let me see it.” She freed her hand and unceremoniously went to his room. She flung the door open and then stood at the doorway with arms akimbo. “Yes, inspection passed, I think. You make your bed?”

“Of course I make my bed, ma’am.”

She nodded and closed the door. He was living out of steamer trunks in a bachelor pad. It told her a little, but not enough. “You talked about cleaning services as if you haven’t ever done dishes your whole life.” She paused and eyed him contemplatively from across the room. “You probably haven’t.”

“No,” he answered honestly, and left it at that.

“Oh. Neither have I. Too many books, so little time. That’s what dishwashers are for anyway.”

He really could adore this woman. He crossed the distance between them in a few strides and stopped when she had to tilt her face up at him, those delicious lips so close, so tempting. “When can I see you again?”

“Come to Strand. You can see me there,” she said jokingly.

“Can I kiss you?”

She kissed his neck. Reached up and touched her lips warmly to the skin over his pulse, as though he were an apple she was preparing to bite. He wouldn’t mind if she did.

And then she smiled and went out the door.

He stood there like a dolt for a few seconds before coming to and running after her. “I’ll walk you home!”

“It’s all right, Luke. I still have to go somewhere.” She waved. He waved back stupidly.

He went back inside the apartment with the intent of racing back to pay for the taxi but Jules was there, holding the phone.

“Your lady mother, my lord.”

Luke sat down on the sofa and sighed. He’d catch up with Alice later. Jules gave him the phone. “Hello, Mother.”

“Lucian, how are you, darling? I got Jules on my side and he had the house opened with a small staff. Why aren’t you at the house yet? I was getting worried.” That was probably why Jules flew over immediately.

“I thought the point of this was for you to
not
worry,” Luke stated.

“A mother can’t help it. Go and pretend to be a pauper, but I’d really feel better if you slept somewhere safe. I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping where any common criminal or electrical fire could kill you!”

“Mother, please. I don’t want to go to the house anymore.”

“Why ever not?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, start it.”

“Jules and Alfred had switched names, how’s that for a start?”

His mother laughed. “Interesting. Tell me all.”

Right. Chores. Chores are good. Even when you don’t really have to restock groceries. They’re good excuses, something to grasp like a lifeline when you feel dangerously close to sinking in foolish, insensible love with a man you met a week ago and have seen only thrice since.

Thrice! Had it only been three times that she’d seen and talked to and touched Luke?

Good thing she got away then.

Chores give you distance from romance and plonk you back in reality. Because Alice was most certainly living inside fantasy. Had she just let some stranger kiss her? In a
church
of all places? Had she spent a perfect, domesticated morning with this man, feeling natural with him as though they had been together forever? As though she
knew
him. But Alice didn’t know anything about Luke except that he would eventually leave her. And that he was perfect.

Alice buried her nose in a towel while something squealed like a school girl inside her brain.

Oh, she hadn’t done that inside her brain at all. Two sales staff had hurried over to see what she was squealing about. Face burning, she put the towel and another into her shopping cart and walked on. That was undignified.

But she had to get it all out somehow. She felt better now. Her hands were no longer shaking. And when she went home and faced Rebecca, she wouldn’t blab like a thirteen-year-old, she’d be a picture of poise and detachment, as if she went to church with men like Luke every day. Because Alice was too terrified to admit to anyone, even her best friend that she just might be falling in love. So fast and so foolishly. Not in the way that Luke was a hopeless case, but their relationship would be. He had ties in Elmera. Ties as tenacious and important—if not more—than her roots here and in Italy.

She could still feel his arms around her after that silly debacle with the gigantic spider. Best case scenario: Luke was
the one
, but then he would leave for his tiny little island, an island that didn’t have The Strand or the city or any of her friends. She couldn’t possibly go with him and so she’d have to suffer the heartbreak of letting him go. She should break it off now, save herself the heartache in the future.

But she couldn’t stop wondering what his mouth would feel like on her collar bone or how his bare, sleeping shoulders would look in the drowsy light of morning. She was snared.

*

Monday at work was quiet. Mondays were always quiet at the bookstore. Alice hid in the basement level. She’d been tempted to call Luke yesterday evening after she’d held true to her own word and ended up cleaning her brownstone from top to bottom, but Rebecca had come over and asked for all the gory and glorious details and then they had a movie marathon while folding their laundry. It was relaxing and Alice decided she would need her housekeeper less often.

Alice’s arms and legs hurt from all the cleaning she’d done. She’d slept cursing herself for not giving Luke her number. She was playing hard to get, and she was so muddled that she couldn’t decide whether it was masochism on her part or simple stupidity.

When she got in to work, Marsha and Clay wanted news as well. And now Alice hid from everyone. They’d all seen her dragging Luke away, and they were all curious in that way reader-writers were curious. They asked too many questions she didn’t even know the answer to. Luke was a private reflection of herself that they had accidentally glimpsed.

She was so busy wondering about Luke she didn’t notice him prowling the shelves right alongside her. At first, she groaned, her subconscious was putting him everywhere, and then he smiled at her. Alice jumped and turned to liquid at the same time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He raised a finger, signaling her to wait a moment, and then he ran the length of the shelf and around it to get to her. “You were really preoccupied. Are you all right? How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you and your cousins?” She looked around. They were quite alone here in these stacks. The usual browsers weren’t awake yet that time of the morning. Not good. It was wreaking havoc on her bodily systems. Her body had very clear ideas of what it wanted to do and her mind was tempted to capitulate.

“Oh, they’re fine.”

“
They
are fine? What about you? You’re not?”

He laid the back of his fingers on her cheek in a feather-light caress. “Why do you look like a mouse caught in a trap? I’m not about to ravage you.”

“You’re not?” she said again, like a parrot.

He looked around, waggled his eyebrows at her and theatrically said in a lecher’s drawl, “Unless you want me to.”

Alice’s brain threw up the white flag. He was wonderful. His hand slid down to cup her cheek and her own hand went up to hold his wrist.

This time she kissed him. Her balance went into her toes, pirouetting her upward until her swan neck could reach his heights, and he met her. A voice in her head realized that something pleasurable was happening and immediately began calling for it to halt, but Alice put the voice on mute.

He stroked and rubbed every centimeter on her lips, taking time at the corners. She opened her mouth in a sigh and he slid his tongue into her mouth tentatively. Her fingers crept into his hair, hugging him close to her body. She met him and invited him in with her own tongue. Every touch was incendiary. She was cosmically aware of his breathing, heartbeat, skin temperature, how well he had shaved that morning. She was melting inside of Luke, losing her own identity to become part of him.

He went back to her lips, nibbling and drinking in her taste. And then back to the butterfly-soft rubs, until he gradually stopped, simply sharing her breath, their mouths still touching. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

“Can you take a week off?” he whispered. “I want to spend time with you.”

Sex
, declared the nun in her mind. The independent woman inside her wanted to balk.
Just like that? Just for you?
And then the melted part of Alice answered,
Why not?
It didn’t have to be sex. She’d tried that in college and it had been anticlimactic, whereas just kissing Luke set her skin on fire. A whole week of kissing. She could get on board with that. If sex happened, by gods, she wasn’t about to complain.

Alice had always wanted to experience her own piece of adventure instead of just reading about them in books. Whatever happened, this could be her adventure. Some gambling was always involved. It wouldn’t be as much fun without the risk, right?