The Lost Princes: Darius, Cassius and Monte. Raye Morgan
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“Here we are,” he said at last, pulling into a driveway that immediately plunged them down a dark tunnel and into a broken-down parking lot. “This is the Gremmerton.”
She took note of the oily puddles and stained walls. “Might as well be the Grimmer-ton,” she muttered softly to herself.
“What was that?” he asked, glancing at her as he parked and shut off the engine.
“Nothing,” she said, feeling sulky and knowing she was being a brat. “Nothing at all.”
He grimaced. He knew exactly what she was thinking but he didn’t bother to explain why they were staying here. She would have to figure it out for herself. When you were trying to travel below the radar, you had to stay in places where people would never expect to find you. And at the same time, you had to be low key, so that people wouldn’t look at you and sense the incongruity and say among themselves, “Hmm. What is someone like that doing here? You would think someone like that would be over at the Grand.”
“We’re running low on formula,” he noted as they unloaded the car and prepared to carry things up into the room.
“I saw a small market on the corner when we drove up,” she said. “If you’ll watch her for a while, I’ll run out and get some. After we get settled in.”
“Good.”
They climbed two flights of stairs and found their room. It wasn’t really too bad, although it did have wallpaper peeling from one corner and a single light bulb hanging down from the ceiling.
It also had only one bed.
She stared at it for a long moment, then turned to look at him, perplexed. “What are we going to do?” she asked. “Maybe we can order in a rollaway.”
“No,” he said calmly. It was fascinating watching the sequence of emotions as they played across her face. “We’re pretending to be a family. We’ll share the bed.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know if we ought to do that,” she said, gazing at him with huge eyes.
That one statement, along with her horrified look, told him everything he needed to know about the state of her innocence—as well as the state of her media-fed imagination. He bit back a grin and coughed a bit before he could respond.
“Ayme, do you think I’m not going to be able to control myself? Do you really think I’m going to attack you during the night?”
She looked very stern. Evidently that was exactly what she was worried about.
“Okay,” she said. “Here’s the honest truth. I’ve never slept in a bed with a man.”
“No!” He pretended to be surprised, then wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want her to think he was mocking her. It was really very cute that she was so concerned. Compared to most of the women he’d become accustomed to, it was delightful.
“No, really,” she was saying earnestly. “I don’t know what will happen. I…I don’t know men very well.” She shook her head, eyes troubled. “You read things…”
“Ayme, don’t pay any attention to what you read.”
He reached for her. It seemed a natural enough instinct to comfort her. He took her pretty face between his hands and smiled down at her.
“Pay attention to what I tell you. I won’t pretend I’m not attracted to you. I am. Any man would be. But it doesn’t mean a thing. And anyway, I can handle it. I’m not going to go mad with lust in the middle of the night.”
She nodded, but she still seemed doubtful. What he didn’t realize was that she was reacting to only one of the things he’d mentioned: the fact that to him being attracted to her didn’t mean a thing.
He’d realized by now that he shouldn’t have touched her at all and he drew back and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Then he frowned, watching emotions play over her face and wishing he’d never started down this road.
But now she could add missing the wonderful feel of his warm hands on her face to the fact that to him, she didn’t mean a thing. He’d actually said that. Any attraction between them was a biological urge, nothing more. She could have been any woman, it would have been the same.
Wow, she thought sadly. Talk about crushing a girl’s spirits. Didn’t mean a thing.
But what did she expect? She looked at him, at how large and beautiful he was. He was an exceptional man. He probably dated a lot of exceptional women. And he probably thought she was young and silly. Meanwhile, she’d begun to think that he was pretty wonderful.
He cleared his throat, wishing he understood women. She appeared unhappy and he didn’t know if it was because of the bed situation or if something else was bothering her. “So let’s just play this by ear, okay?” he tried hopefully.
“Okay,” she said softly.
“You sleep on your side, I’ll sleep on mine. If it would make you feel better, we can make a barrier down the middle with pillows.”
Her smile was bright but wavering. “Like an old Puritan bundling board?” she said.
“If you want.”
She seemed to be somewhat reassured, but he wasn’t. He could still feel the softness of her face against his hands. He shouldn’t have touched her.
“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, looking about the room.
“Down the hall,” he said. “You can’t miss it.”
“What?” Ayme shuddered. This on top of everything. “Down the hall?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, no, I can’t share a public bathroom.” She was shaking her head as though this were the last straw. “Are you crazy?”
“This is the way old hotels are set up,” he told her. “You’ll have to get used to it. You’ll be okay.”
“I won’t,” she cried dramatically, flopping down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Bring me a chamber pot. I’m not leaving the room.”
She bit her lip. Deep inside, she was cringing. That hadn’t really been her, had it? Couldn’t be. She didn’t play the drama queen, didn’t believe in it. But it seemed a combination of circumstances had come against her all at once and for just a moment, she’d cracked.
She was tired, she was scared, she was exhausted, and she didn’t know where she was going or what was going to happen once she got there. It was no wonder she was on edge.
But she didn’t have to take it out on David. When you came right down to it, he was being very patient. In fact, he was a super guy. Which made it that much worse that she was having a silly tantrum. She could feel her cheeks redden.
Slowly she raised her gaze to his.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m done.”
“You sure?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying not to cry. “I’ll go check out that powder room now. I’m sure it will be lovely.”
It took all his strength to keep from laughing at her sweet, funny face. He pulled her to her feet by taking both hands in his.
“Come on. You can do it. Others have and lived to tell the tale.”
He smiled down at her as she looked up. He was so close. For a fleeting second or two, she had a fantasy, just the flash of an image, of what it might be like if he would kiss her.
But that was ridiculous. There was no reason for him to kiss her. This was not a kissing situation, and anyway, they weren’t in a kissing relationship. And never would be. Besides, any feeling between them didn’t mean a thing.