The Surprise Princess (10 page)

“Raised Katie Davis in Ashton, Wisconsin as their own.” Leslie’s calm voice as much as her words brought him up short. “Sent her off to school in the morning with a bag lunch, and gave her a snack and a desk to do her homework when she came home. Yes,
home
, sir. To accept your account of events – even to submit to the DNA test – requires that she considers they might, indeed, be the filth you claim. That’s a difficult hurdle.”

“My mother was irresponsible and selfish, and it took me a long time to reconcile the opposing emotions I had about her,” April added.

The king was aware of Grady taking Leslie’s hand, of both of them looking on the young woman they’d helped raise with a combination of protectiveness and pride. He had come to feel the same things about her.

April leaned forward, meeting his gaze and holding it. “I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to grapple with the idea that the people who raised you not only weren’t your parents, but had purposefully caused you such harm. If you want to have a future with Katie, you must let her reconcile the past.”

“Are you okay?” Brad asked, the first words spoken in the half hour since they’d left the Monroes’ house in Evanston.

“Yes.” She continued staring out the passenger window, knowing they were passing restaurants, shops, houses, and other buildings of a busy metro area, but reducing them all to blurs before unfocused eyes.

“Are we okay?” His voice was deeper, rougher. “Are you going to hold this against me forever?”

“Possibly.”

“Don’t blame C.J. or Carolyn. I made the decision. If I hadn’t thought it was necessary for your—”

“My own good?”

“I was going to say for your being able to move ahead.”

She said nothing.

He cleared his throat and when he spoke she could imagine a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “You know most people would think you’re crazy. A quick test to check the DNA. If it says no, it all goes away. But if the DNA proves you’re his granddaughter—”

“I’m not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She turned to him. “How can you be so sure you’re Brad Spencer?”

“I don’t have someone telling me I might be – hell, that they’re
sure
I am – the King of Siam.”

“Siam doesn’t have a king. It’s not even Siam anymore.”

“Katie—”

“So you think I’m crazy?” she demanded belligerently.

He shot her a look, but said, “No. I just wonder why you’re so adamant you won’t take this test.”

She shifted in her seat. “I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

Pretending to nap was exhausting. She finally pretended to be awakened, and sat up in the passenger seat.

Then regretted it when he immediately said, “You’re awfully positive you’re not this princess, but how could you possibly know for sure, Katie? You only have what your parents told you. Maybe you don’t want to challenge those family stories. I know they can mean a lot. But DNA would—”

“There were no family stories.”

“Your folks didn’t talk about how they grew up or about moving to the U.S. or when they met or why they decided to come here or their families?” She shook her head at each. He didn’t give up. “C’mon, everybody has family stories. What you were like as a baby. When you started walking and talking. Your first words. How you tried to trade your sister for a basketball.”

She stopped mid-head-shake and looked at him. “You tried to trade your sister for a basketball?”

He shrugged. “I was twelve. I had a lot more use for a basketball than a baby sister.”

She smiled, because how could she not? But it faded quickly. “No stories about any of those things. It wasn’t that kind of household.”

“What kind was it?”

She looked away from the softness in his voice, in his eyes. “I wasn’t abused, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s good to know.” Then, shifting to an easier tone, he added, “You once told me something about your parents.”

No she hadn’t. She couldn’t have. She didn’t talk about her parents or have pictures of them. That should prove she was their daughter — she was just like them.

Her silence didn’t deter Brad. He said, “You told me neither one could raise one eyebrow.”

She turned to look at him. Not just her head but as much of her as could shift under the seat belt’s constraint.

“Are you nuts? Those people were talking about me being a long-lost
princess
and—”

“Heir to the throne of Bariavak.”

“—you’re talking about my parents not being able to raise one eyebrow without the other rising, too?”

“Yup.”

“Why on earth would you—?”

“Because you can raise one by itself. And so could King Jozef of Bariavak.” He turned his head. Their eyes met.

“Left eyebrow for both of you, too,” Brad said.

B
rad turned into her street. From here, the house was a dark void, the trees absorbing what light was emitted by the small fixture near the front door.

Yours is curb repel.

The trees had been there as long as she could remember. Her mother once said her father chose the house because of them.

But when she was young they hadn’t yet blocked all the sunlight from the front room. She’d liked the sun patterns in her bedroom at the back of the house. How old had she been when she decided she’d wanted to see what designs it made in the bigger room?

Bob Davis had stopped short as he came in. “Close curtains. They see in.”

“But, Father, the sun—.”

“Close them, stupid girl.” The roar had hurt her ears.

Her mother had slid past Katie and to the windows, drawing closed the curtains as she murmured, “We don’t want that people know our business.”

Brad’s car bounced on the rough connection between street and driveway, then stopped.

She unhooked her belt and reached for the handle.

“Katie.”

She could have kept going. She should have kept going. Leaving without a word, closing the door on not only the meeting at the Monroes’ house, but the entire trip. The time, the talk, the … yes, connection.

She looked over her shoulder at him. He leaned toward her, light painting the strong bones of his face. He was close. Six inches, no more, and his mouth would be on hers.

“Don’t let anyone bully you. And if you need backup …”

He leaned closer, closer. He was going to kiss her. He was going to kiss her.
It was about damned time
, he was going to kiss her.

“You can always count on me, Katie.”

His lips brushed her forehead.

She jolted out of the car, propelled by something she later decided was anger. This might even be worse than the finger down her nose and calling her “Squirt.”

She tried to wrest her bag from him when he removed it from the trunk. He wouldn’t relinquish it. If she had held the bag she might have slugged him with it. But she muttered something resembling “Thank you,” and got inside the front door before he could do more than say another concerned, “Katie?”

Yes, she was angry, she decided as she leaned against the inside of the front door. Angry. Or as Maura would say, she thought with a shaky half laugh, she was
royally pissed.

How long had he been telling himself she was a kid?

Since the day she’d arrived in the basketball office? Maybe.

Or had it been the second day when he’d turned from looking at Katie Davis and met Coach C.J. Draper’s eyes?

There was no question about the message in his boss’ gaze.
Hands off
. Perhaps because of Carolyn’s role, or perhaps because of Katie herself, Coach was particularly protective of her.

And Brad couldn’t blame him. Not one bit.

Not because he’d ever been as bad as his reputation, even when he’d been dating a lot. But because Katie was …
a kid
.

Sure she’d had boyfriends — worthless jackasses as far as he was concerned, but she’d figured that out eventually — but that didn’t change him viewing her as a kid. A fifteen-year-old could have a boyfriend for heaven’s sake. That didn’t mean he’d view her as anything other than a kid.

Katie’s not fifteen. Wasn’t even on that first day, and now she’s twenty-seven.

His cell rang, bringing him back to the airport gate area, where he waited for his next flight.

Katie.

No.

Hunter Pierce, according to the phone.

He knew what the man wanted. As if he had influence with Katie these days.

So maybe Katie wasn’t a kid anymore. Maybe the buzz he’d felt the first time he’d seen her would be safe to let out of its box now.

Except she just might be a princess. And if that wasn’t out of reach, what was?

In other words, the rules he’d lived by regarding Katie Davis were still in force.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t help her, be her friend.

In fact, he’d had a thought, though it would have to wait until after the season. He ignored Pierce’s call and placed another one.

Katie was grateful she had no time dwell on the weekend’s events, since Senior Night was Tuesday. The seniors deserved a great sendoff.

Those first days set the tone. Over the next weeks, work was her salvation. It occupied her mind. It left few hours and little energy for brooding.

It also kept Brad traveling and too busy when he was around to do much more than give her searching looks.

The same went for C.J. and, to a lesser extent, Carolyn. But for some reason their searching looks didn’t slice as deep.

The team won twice in the conference tournament, which put the Aces into the National Invitation Tournament. Not the vaunted NCAA, but good experience for a young team. After a couple wins there, Ashton lost. The coaches went to NCAA tournament games for networking. Plus, these were the final weeks of an active recruiting period. Keeping track of which coach was where, making and changing arrangements took all her attention.

And then it was over. The NCAA championship game had been played the night before. C.J. was already back in Ashton, taking the day off to spend with his family, since the elementary school was on spring break. The other coaches would be returning over the next twenty-four hours. They’d each take some time off, too. She might not see … any of them for several more days.

Maura gave a deep sigh from her desk. “It all seems kind of flat, doesn’t it? With the season over, I mean.”

“Recruiting, summer camps, the Europe trip, preparing for next season.” Katie ticked off the main chores ahead of them. “We’ve got plenty to keep us busy.”

“The routine stuff, sure. But I mean the
drama
. There’s so much inherent drama in sports and the basketball season can be divided into the classic three-act structure.”

Drama was the last thing Katie wanted. But saying that would start Maura on how essential it was to the furtherance of humanity and how much of our lives followed dramatic structure. Katie looked forward to the end of the screenplay class the intern was taking.

Katie tried another tack. “I saw the notice that this weekend is Ice-Out Festival.”

The Ice-Out Festival was a rite of spring no self-respecting member of the Ashton University community would miss. Since it depended on the weather it was never scheduled more than a week ahead.

Maura brightened. “I know. Like Mother Nature giving us the turning point we need right when we need it.”

“We can push back the clean-up sessions to next week.”

Katie had paid interns to do spring and fall yard clean-ups for years. The yard had improved a lot, especially the tangle in the backyard – no matter what some people thought.

They’d picked this weekend, but earning extra cash surely couldn’t compete with the Ice-Out Festival.

“Scheduling’s always a gamble, isn’t it?” Maura said. Wisconsin weather wasn’t known for its predictability, which meant Lake Ashton’s ice break-up varied from year to year and so did the festival. That drop-everything-and-celebrate aspect was no small part of its appeal to students … and faculty. “We talked about it, and if it’s all right with you, we’ll do most of it Thursday afternoon and finish up Friday before anything starts. That way we’ll have plenty of money for the whole weekend.”

Katie smiled back. “No studying in your schedule at all?”

“On Ice-Out weekend? No way. Nobody wants to miss a second.”

Katie sent up a silent hope one person would decide to miss the whole thing. She wasn’t ready to face Brad Spencer.

Katie knew her mouth was hanging open as she got out of her car after work Thursday.

Shock.

She’d had a few encounters with it lately so she knew what it felt like, and this was it.

Leaving the other interns spreading mulch, Maura practically skipped toward her. “Doesn’t it look
fabulous
? It makes all the difference in the world. When we finish this, we’re going to wash the windows and you’ll have so much light inside.”

“What have you done?” Her voice was a croak. She swallowed. “What on earth have you done?”

Maura’s beam dimmed. “But…? You wanted them down. You wanted to open things up.”

A voice behind her said, “I ordered the trees taken down.”

S
he spun around, and there was Brad, as somehow she’d known he would be from the instant she’d caught sight of her bare, exposed house spotlighted in the late afternoon sunlight.

“You. Had. Them. Take. Down. My. Trees.”

“Oh,
that’s
what’s bothering you,” Maura chirped. Those trees were way too big and scary for us. Coach Spencer had professionals come in and take them down first thing. They were about done when we got here after morning classes. The tree guys said it was good timing, too, because a couple had a blight or something that was spreading. It would have been awful if one of those huge trees fell on your house. We’ve been doing the cleanup, and working on the new beds.”

“Too scary,” Brad murmured. “Told you.”