Searching For Her Prince Read online

  When he hiked himself up against the pillow at the arm of the sofa, he grimaced. She could almost feel his discomfort.

  “Have you been here all night?” he asked.

  “Yes. You didn’t think I’d leave and take the chance you’d get up in the middle of the night and work did you?”

  At that he almost smiled as he nodded to Cocoa. “I see you even brought in reinforcements.”

  Relieved his sense of humor was back in place this morning, proving he felt a little better, she said honestly, “I wanted to be here in case you needed something.”

  Cocoa sat up in her lap, jumped down to the floor and went over to stand beside Brent. When Brent leaned down and rubbed his hand over the dog’s head, Cocoa put her paws on the sofa and licked Brent’s face. That greeting and measure of comfort finished, she trotted over to the rug by the bookshelves and settled in front of them.

  Brent’s green eyes were intense as they returned to Amira’s. “I still can’t believe you came last night.”

  “Why can’t you believe it?”

  “Because we’ve only known each other a few days.”

  “It feels as if it’s been longer than a few days,” she mused. “Besides, Flora said you needed me. Not many people in my life have needed me.” She sat up and swung her legs to the floor.

  Brent hiked himself up further and tossed the blanket aside. She could still feel his gaze on her as he asked, “Have you ever been seriously involved with a man?”

  “No, not seriously…though when I was seventeen I thought I was in love with someone.”

  “Someone at the palace?”

  She knew he was thinking about the royal family, about the Royal Guard, about other men her mother or the queen might have deemed worthy for her. “He was the gardener. I remember the day I stopped to talk to him. I hadn’t even been out on a date at that point. He was clipping the hedges, and he gave me one of those looks men give women when they want to stop them from walking by.”

  “You were seventeen and hadn’t been out on a date?” Brent asked, astonished.

  “Whenever I needed an escort to a royal function, the queen chose one of the Royal Guards to accompany me. Sean was so different from any of them. He wasn’t stilted or formal. He acted as if he wanted to be with me.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  Brent grunted. “Old enough to know he shouldn’t be fooling around with someone as young as seventeen.”

  “I didn’t realize that then. I didn’t realize the flirting and the compliments didn’t mean anything to him. After I met him a few times in one of the gardens, he kissed me and tried…more. I figured out what he really wanted was to get me into bed, maybe so he could brag about it. When I rejected his advances, he got nasty and said I’d better grow up, that I’d better learn how to give men what they wanted or I’d be a very lonely lady for the rest of my life.”

  Brent muttered a curse, and she looked up at him, surprised.

  “I’m not much better than that gardener,” he admitted, his brows furrowed. “That first evening I met you all I thought about was getting you into bed.”

  The glimpses of desire she’d caught in his eyes had thrilled her. Now, having him admit the strong attraction he’d felt, too, her mouth went dry. Finally she managed, “You’re the most honest man I’ve ever met.”

  Shifting against the sofa arm, he looked uncomfortable. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  She waited.

  His gaze studied her for a very long time. Then releasing a pent-up breath, he decided. “Never mind. It’s not important. I have to get a shower.” Rubbing his hand over his beard, he added, “And a shave.”

  “You can’t get your shoulder wet.” She didn’t know if he could make it to his room on his own steam, let alone take a shower.

  Swinging his legs to the floor, he sat there for a few moments. “I’m still in my running gear, and I smell like sweat and antiseptic. I have to change the dressing on my wounds, too.”

  “You might need help with that.”

  “Are you going to help me with my shower, too?” he asked wickedly.

  As if she answered questions like that on a daily basis, she shrugged nonchalantly. “That depends. Do you really need help or are you just trying to make me feel uncomfortable?”

  Dropping his head into his hands, he thrust his fingers through his hair.

  Amira wished she could do the same thing with her fingers. When he’d kissed her, she’d slipped her hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. It had seemed such an intimate gesture that she hadn’t realized what she was doing at the time. Now she consciously wanted to do it.

  “I don’t know what I’m trying to do,” Brent muttered. “My shoulder hurts and my pride took a beating. I can’t believe I wasn’t listening last night, wasn’t watching out. I can’t believe I couldn’t stop him before he did this.”

  Sliding closer to him, her knee grazed his. “I can only imagine how frustrated you must feel, but it could have happened to anyone.”

  He glanced at her sideways. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “What would make you feel better?”

  When his gaze locked to hers, she could see the desire in his eyes as well as a deep need maybe even he didn’t know was there. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Don’t tempt me, Amira, or I’ll be just as brash as that gardener.”

  “You couldn’t be.”

  He shook his head again. “You give me too much credit.”

  “Maybe you don’t give yourself enough.”

  The atmosphere in the room crackled with the attraction they both felt as well as the memory of their kisses. The silence stretched too long, and she broke it. “I want to help you any way I can.”

  “You’re asking for trouble. Men don’t like to accept help from a woman. It makes them grouchy.”

  Laughing, she stood. “I’m not going to retreat just because you’re grouchy. What would that say about my character?”

  “It would say you’re not a glutton for punishment.” At that he stood, too, and when he did, his color faded.

  “Brent?”

  “I’m okay. I need to do this on my own.”

  “All right. But I’ll follow you to your room. I think you really ought to eat breakfast before you attempt this.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’ll make a stop in the kitchen and let Flora feed me.”

  “I could bring your breakfast in here.”

  “I’m not going to act like an invalid. It’s not in me. You’re welcome to join me for breakfast if you want,” he said with a wink. “Come on, Cocoa. Let’s see if Flora’s up.”

  Then Brent strode from his office as if he hadn’t been injured at all. His denial of his condition made Amira watchful as she followed him and Cocoa to the kitchen.

  Flora was indeed up and already making breakfast. She took a look at Brent, though, and shook her head. “You should be in bed, sir.”

  The walk from his office seemed to have tired Brent out, and he sank heavily into a chair at the table. “Once I eat your French toast and hash browns, I’ll feel like new.”

  Amira couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’ll have to patent that recipe, Flora. Every restaurant in the country will want it.”

  Brent just scowled at her, and she imagined even that took energy. He didn’t argue when she crossed to the counter and poured coffee for him.

  Fifteen minutes later he’d only finished half of everything on his plate. He was looking gray again, and she suspected this little excursion had tired him out.

  As she pushed her coffee cup away from her, she advised, “Maybe you should rest for a while now.”

  Ignoring her concern, he pushed himself up from the table. “I told you—I’m going to get a shower.”

  She was determined to take care of him, even though he was determined to take care of himself. “All right. While y
ou get your shower, I’ll stand outside the door in case you need me.”

  “That’s not necessary,” he argued.

  “It might not be necessary, but I think it would be a good precaution. I’ve had first-aid classes. I can change the bandages for you when you’re finished.”

  His gaze caught and held hers. Then he headed for his room, not checking to see if she followed.

  Brent could access his bathroom from inside his bedroom or from the hallway outside. While the shower ran, Amira stood in the hall, waiting to see if he needed help. He’d held his shoulder and arm stiffly this morning, but he’d seemed steady on his feet. It was obvious he was a proud man who didn’t want to turn to anyone for help. That didn’t mean he didn’t need help.

  When the shower stopped running, Amira listened for sounds of movement inside the bathroom. Ten minutes later Brent opened the door and faced her squarely. He was as pale as he’d looked last night, and he was holding on to the doorjamb. The pair of black flannel jogging shorts he wore now rode low on his hips. Her gaze passed up the length of all that tanned skin. His hair was still damp, and his creased brow and the expression in his eyes told her he was in pain.

  How long could he stand there without leaning on her?

  She ran her fingers over the edges of the shoulder bandage. It was dry. Somehow he’d managed to keep his shoulder and arm clear of the water. Her fingers not only touched the gauze but briefly grazed his skin, and the steamy atmosphere around them seemed to become electrified.

  “I hate to ask you to do this, but I don’t think I can handle changing the shoulder bandage on my own.”

  “Let’s do it in your bedroom,” she said softly, knowing asking for help was difficult for him. She knew he’d be more comfortable in his bed and by the time they’d finished he might need to lie down.

  Amira saw the bandaging supplies on the sink.

  “Everything’s there that I need,” he said gruffly. “The nurse got all of it for me from the hospital pharmacy.”

  He was standing in the doorway, and there was just enough room to slip past him to the sink. When she did, her breasts grazed his arm. Neither could ignore the jolt of awareness.

  “I’ll wait in the bedroom,” he told her.

  Amira quickly gathered up the supplies and followed him into his room. It was decorated in tan and navy and was as masculine as he was. The oak bed was definitely king-size. It was covered with a navy, tan and white geometrically designed quilt. The same fabric draped the windows. A triple dresser was empty except for a wooden valet that held Brent’s wallet and change. With the door to the armoire standing open, she guessed his jogging shorts had come from one of the drawers.

  “Sit there.” She motioned to the edge of the bed.

  As he did, she realized there was only one way to get to his shoulder easily. She had to stand between his legs. He must have realized that the same time she did because he moved his thighs wider apart. When she stepped into the space, her heart was thudding so hard she could barely hear herself think. Then she concentrated on what she was doing and Brent’s well-being…not the exciting, ferocious, scary feelings he stirred up in her.

  When she removed the bandage from Brent’s shoulder, she saw that the wound was long and deep. He glanced at her to see if she could handle the task, but she kept her mind focused and didn’t meet his eyes. She worked quickly for her benefit as well as his.

  After she’d finished, he was whiter than before and she knew he’d have to give in to the pain and the need to rest soon. “Would taking a pain pill be so terrible?” she asked.

  “I’d rather feel the pain and know what’s happening to me. Besides, looking at you is all the pain medication I need.”

  Along with his discomfort, she saw the passionate sparks in his eyes. What if he gave in to them? What if she gave in to them?

  Emboldened by everything that had passed between them, by her night on the couch watching him and listening for his breathing, she asked, “If that’s true, then why did you send me away yesterday?”

  She was standing so close to him, she could smell the soap he’d used, see the line of his beard stubble even though he’d shaved, feel the heat from his body. They weren’t even touching and she was trembling all over. They didn’t have to be touching for her to feel the sizzle between them.

  Brent let out a sigh. “I think you know the answer to that, Amira. If we keep seeing each other, one or both of us is going to get hurt.”

  Although she didn’t want to believe it, she knew he was right. She knew if she stayed, they’d get closer and closer. Obviously, Brent didn’t want that. Then she thought about their kisses, saw longing in his eyes now. Even if he did want to be with her, even if he let her into his life, what would happen when she had to go back to Penwyck? His work was here, his life was here. If they did become involved, they wouldn’t be able to have anything more than a fling because of who he was and who she was. She’d never had a fling, and she didn’t think she ever would. Her dreams were about a husband and marriage and children. A girl didn’t get those by giving in to an attraction that was too hot to handle.

  She thought about everything she’d done since she’d met Brent. She hardly knew him and she was standing in his bedroom thinking about what they’d do in his bed! What had happened to the values her mother had taught her?

  Whenever she was around Brent, there was no black or white. There was only gray and the feelings that were deepening for him. She had to be true to who she was. She couldn’t disappoint her mother or the queen.

  “You’re right,” she responded in answer to what he’d said. “We would get hurt.”

  Quickly she stepped away from him and picked up the gauze, tape and scissors. “After I put these in the bathroom, I’m going to leave. I’ll tell Flora you’re resting. If you need anything else, I’m sure she can get it for you.”

  He didn’t look surprised or disappointed, and he didn’t ask her to stay. “Thank you, Amira…for everything you’ve done. I’ll never forget it.”

  “I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.

  Then she turned away from him and left his bedroom, before she crawled into that bed beside him and gave him any comfort he wanted.

  Chapter Five

  Empty.

  Since Amira had left the penthouse a few minutes ago, he’d felt empty.

  It was a feeling Marcus had never had before and one he didn’t like. Being the man of action that he was, even in his present condition, there was only one thing to do.

  Fill the void.

  Picking up the phone on his bedside table, he decided Shane should be up. In fact, he might already be at a construction site. Marcus kept telling his twin he should get a cell phone, but his brother just wasn’t that type.

  Shane answered on the first ring. “About time I hear from you,” he chided. “Did you buy the State of California yet?”

  Marcus laughed. There was no jealousy between them. Shane did his thing and Marcus did his. They supported each other, happy in each other’s successes, sympathetic at each other’s losses.

  “Not yet. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “I should have been out the door a half hour ago. But I always have time for you. What’s up?”

  Marcus knew how the business clock ticked. If Shane said he should be on the job, then he should be. Marcus didn’t want to have a rushed conversation about Amira’s story. But he did have a question.

  “Tell me something. Do you remember Mother or Dad telling any stories about labor and delivery?”

  “Ours, you mean?”

  “Yes, ours,” Marcus responded patiently. “You’ve been around Mother more than I have. Did she ever talk about it?”

  “Not that I can recall. Why?”

  Why, indeed. Even a long phone conversation wouldn’t handle this. He needed to talk to Shane in person. They hadn’t seen each other for a while…“What does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”<
br />
  “I’ll be starting a new project. Long days, short nights. You know the drill. Why?”

  “I thought I might fly out. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

  “So discuss. You’re asking odd questions.”

  “I know. I met a woman who started me thinking about some things. That’s all.”

  “A woman? A pretty woman?” There was amusement and hope in Shane’s voice.

  “Yes, a very pretty woman. But she’s not from the U.S. and she’s leaving soon. I’ve decided it’s better if I don’t see her again. I was going to have Fritz drive me up to Shady Glenn today, but…”

  Something in Marcus’s voice must have alerted Shane that something was wrong. “You’re not leaving today?”

  “I was mugged last night.”

  “You mean your wallet was stolen?”

  “Not as simple as that. The mugger had a knife.”

  “Blue blazes, Marcus! Are you all right?”

  “If I don’t move too fast. He got my shoulder. I should feel a lot better by tomorrow. Today I’m just a bit wiped out.”

  “You went to a doctor, I hope.”

  “I didn’t have any choice. Somebody called an ambulance. But I came home last night. I couldn’t stay in that place. You know how I feel about hospitals.” After Rhonda had slipped into a coma, he’d sat by her bedside for two days. Then he’d lost her. Shane knew that.

  “Yeah, I know how you feel about them. At least Flora was there to look after you. Wasn’t she?”

  “I wouldn’t let Flora look after me so she called in reinforcements.”

  “Fritz?”

  Marcus laughed. “He was in on it. She called Amira—the woman I told you about—and he drove her over.”

  “And just what does this Amira look like?”

  “Blond hair, violet eyes.”

  “And…” Shane probed.

  “And she’s as innocent as an angel. Not like any twenty-year-old I’ve ever met. She’s been protected and chaperoned all her life.”