The Inconveniently Engaged Prince. Mindy Neff
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it. And speaking of which, did you call me at this ungodly hour just to find out what I am, or am not wearing?” She couldn’t believe she was talking to him this way. At one time in her life, this would have been the norm. Flirting had made her feel powerful, especially when a man responded in typical fashion. But she’d changed her ways, put that behind her.
She’d come to realize that the insecure part of her had been starved for affection, and the least bit of positive attention she’d received from the opposite sex had sent her straight into infatuation. An infatuation she’d immaturely mistaken for something deeper.
Thankfully…hopefully she’d wised up. Though her behavior this morning tried to tell a different story.
Still, something about the anonymity of the telephone seemed to bring out the devil-may-care side of her.
“Actually, I called to invite you to breakfast.”
“Is that all you think about? Eating?”
His tone softened, deepened. “No. Not all the time. Lately, I’ve been spending a fair amount of time thinking about that little tattoo on your back.”
She blinked, tried to recall when he might have seen it. It was a tiny bouquet of happy flowers at the small of her back, the one thing left over from her misspent youth that she absolutely loved. Cold weather clothes, though, usually kept it hidden. And she certainly hadn’t peeled up her top for Jace Carradigne.
Clearing her throat, she started to speak, but he cut her off.
“Before you turn me down, breakfast comes with an offer to study. Bring your books and we’ll review together. See? No excuses.”
She glanced through the miniblinds of her apartment window. Outside the day was sunny with only a few high puffy clouds in sight. In the eucalyptus tree, a clever blue jay foraged in the bark for breakfast, bobbing his tail in apparent satisfaction before taking flight.
“I think I’m pretty well prepared for the psych test.”
“Great. Then we’ll eat and go sight-seeing like tourists.”
She couldn’t believe how tempting that sounded. For so long now, her life had consisted of work and school, with little time left for socializing or having fun. Oh, she could have made more time for socializing, but she’d been so focused, so single-minded, as though doing penance.
It suddenly struck her that she was getting tired of atoning. She was on her way toward her goals. Why couldn’t she enjoy the company of an exciting man?
It didn’t have to turn into a sexual thing.
Friendships between opposite sexes were normal and acceptable.
“Actually, I was planning to go bird-watching today,” she said, absently covering Sissy’s ears. Sissy would rather eat a bird than watch it.
“Come again?”
“You heard me.”
“You mean like sit out in the yard and just look?”
“The yard’s good. But I like the park better. Someplace with lots of trees. I was thinking about driving over to Torrey Pines and taking a short hike.”
“To watch the birds,” he repeated.
“It counts for science credits.”
“I see.” He sounded a little deflated, disappointed.
She twisted the phone cord around her finger. Her heart leapt into her throat and pounded. She probably shouldn’t ask, but… “Would, um…do you want to go with me?”
“Sure. I could get into bird-watching.”
He hadn’t even hesitated. She let out a breath, lectured herself not to panic. It wasn’t polite to uninvite. Besides, how much trouble could she get into bird-watching?
“Okay. You can either meet me somewhere or I can stop by and pick you up on my way.”
“I can come for you.”
“Nope. It’s my suggestion. I’ll do the driving.”
“I’ve got to tell you, I’m partial to a woman who likes to take charge.”
“Don’t push your luck, pal.”
He laughed. “Okay. My condo’s over the bridge on Coronado. Got a piece of paper?”
Accidentally dumping Sissy off the bed, she rummaged in the nightstand drawer and came up with a pen and a dog-eared crossword puzzle book. It seemed almost sacrilegious to write down the ritzy address in the margins of a rumpled game magazine, but it was the handiest at the moment.
He gave her several telephone numbers and a gate code, as well as detailed directions that were hardly necessary. She’d taken the ferry across to the lovely seaside suburb of Coronado several times just to soak up the ambiance—to see how the wealthier half of the world lived. So she was familiar with the area.
“See you in about an hour and a half?” she asked.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Hanging up the phone, she glanced down at Sissy, who was staring out of faintly annoyed iridescent blue eyes.
“What? It’s only bird…I mean science studying. There’s no rule that says I can’t invite company.”
Sissy merely licked her silky fur, as though she could see right into Vickie’s soul, feel the giddy butterflies winging in her stomach.
“Just wait until you see him before you take that attitude. Then try to tell me that you could resist.”
WITH THE TOP DOWN on her ten-year-old Chrysler convertible, Vickie drove over the spectacular two-mile bridge that connected Coronado Island to the mainland. Her hair swirled in the breeze and the brisk fall air sneaked beneath her lightweight turtleneck sweater, but she loved the freedom of driving with the top down on a beautiful sunny day.
Against the blue waters of the bay, the Hotel Del Coronado stood like a grand lady with its quirky timber facade of conical towers, cupolas, turrets, balconies and dormer windows. A distant memory flashed—herself as a young girl, watching a classic Marilyn Monroe movie that had been filmed at the hotel.
Caught up in fantasy, as girls on the bud of teenage could, she’d imagined herself right there, strolling through the acres of polished wood and old-fashioned ambiance. She’d have worn diamonds and silk, and been the love of a handsome leading man’s life.
At the time, she’d been living in a foster home in Washington, and California had seemed another world away. Yet, oddly enough, it was this hotel she’d focused on when she and Chet had run away together. They’d ended up only making it as far as Los Angeles. The pull of the hotel, though, the fantasy, had finally gotten her to San Diego…alone and much, much wiser.
She shook away those thoughts, unwilling to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. Definitely unwilling to spoil such a beautiful day.
Navigating the tidily maintained streets, she located Jace’s condo and punched in the gate code. The place was quite impressive, as she’d known it would be. Two stories, built in a Spanish architectural style, it sat right on the beach with a third level observation deck that would no doubt have a clear view to downtown San Diego, Mission Bay and the endless Pacific Ocean beyond.
Bicyclists whizzed down the streets dodging neighbors out for a morning jog and mothers pushing children in strollers. Parked in driveways or open garages were luxury cars and sports cars that cost the earth and made Vickie feel a little self-conscious about parking her dated Chrysler on the same block as them.
Oh, well. The classics were supposed to be an in thing. She got out of the car, breathing in the scent of the sea and fall blooms. Pots of geraniums, mums and fluffy ferns gave the oak and leaded glass entry doors a welcoming aura.
Before she could connect her knuckles with the wood, Jace was opening the