The Prince's Runaway Lover (Men of the Zodiac) Read online

  “Am I interrupting?”

  The smooth, deep, upper-crust voice startled her and she whipped her head up, her hand whipping out and clipping the laptop and edging it near the end of the step. Isabel tried to grab the book and the computer and discovered that multitasking was not in her skill set. The man who’d appeared out of nowhere was by her side in a flash of expensive suit, blond hair, and the sharp, earthy scent of expensive cologne.

  “I beg your pardon,” he murmured as one large hand grasped the falling piece of electronics and the other latched onto the book teetering off her lap, trapping her hand in the process. He looked up mid-save and she was struck by how thick his eyelashes were. They were movie-star dark and framed eyes that were so much bluer in person. “This is all my fault.”

  She stared but knew it was her turn to say something and she stumbled over the only words that came to her mind. “I’m not supposed to touch you.”

  He glanced down to where his fingers were entwined with hers over the cover of the ancient botanical treatise. When he returned his gaze, he didn’t even try to hide the smile that pulled at his full lips. “I think I’m touching you. Technically.”

  His words tugged her out of her stupor and she shook her head at the utter stupidity of her reaction. He was just another human being, a mere man, and she’d never been one to be dazzled by celebrity…at least it had been a long damn time since she’d been susceptible to those blinders. Life had taught her the hard way to always look below the surface.

  “Well, either way, I think I’ve got the book. If you can grab the laptop.” She nodded toward the chunk of metal and glass in his grip as she withdrew her own hand and the book from his control. Isabel stood and leaned over when he offered up his item, turning slightly to place them both on the table outside her door before turning back to see what her royal guest wanted.

  “I’m Nick.”

  “I’m Isabel.” He extended his hand toward her and she stepped forward to take it, remembering all of her royal protocol instructions at the very last second. The result was a stumble forward into the most poorly executed curtsy ever attempted by someone wearing flip-flops and cut-off jean shorts. “Dammit, I’m not supposed to shake hands with you.”

  She wasn’t supposed to curse either. Isabel could practically feel the palace gates closing behind her as she held nothing but her pink slip and her suitcase.

  “I think there’s an exception for the woman who kicked my ass on our run this morning.” He was laughing at her, his smile wide and white and his laugh vibrating in her belly and giving her the tiniest of shivers across her skin. He extended his hand out once more and she took it, noticing how big he really was. At least six feet four inches in height, broad shoulders and biceps emphasized by the cut of his custom-tailored suit. “I’m Nick Lytton.”

  She let him engulf her small hand and fought off the involuntary impetus to lean in closer. He was…mesmerizing. Isabel could only stare at him, her usual quick tongue more than a little tied up with all the thoughts jumbling in her head. Why was he here? What did he want? Why wasn’t he letting go of her hand? The last thought jerked her out of her reverie and brought to the forefront of her tumultuous brain the knowledge that he was staring at her. He wasn’t letting go either.

  Every womanly part of her perked up at the admiration she saw in his eyes, the interest as he took in her appearance with a slow glance, the tightening of his fingers on hers as they made eye contact once again. She wanted to argue with herself but she knew what she saw: he was attracted to her and she knew without a doubt that every one of her involuntary female signals was giving him the same message. Not good. Not good at all.

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to call you by your first name,” she said as she reluctantly withdrew her hand from his grasp. He glanced down as they lost contact and she fought the urge to do the same but she felt the loss deep in her gut even without the visual.

  “I think I get to decide what people call me.”

  She shook her head. “I was given specific directions when I took my position. I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “I see.” He gestured to the stoop with his hand and to her amazement lowered his long form to take up one end of the top step. He undid the button on his suit coat with elegant ease and settled back to lean against her front door. Only this man could make a suit that cost more than two or three months of her salary look as casual as a pair of jeans. “Please sit.”

  Isabel blinked at his invitation and then sat down beside him, careful not to touch any part of his royal form. If calling him by his first name didn’t get her canned, groping the soon-to-be-kingly-ass would seal the deal.

  “Okay, so your superiors told you not to call me Nicholas, correct?” She nodded and he nodded back, his expression open and amused. “Well, I’ve been Nick more than I’ve been Prince anything in the past few years. I like it better. And since I’m superior to your superiors, I get the final say.”

  She snorted in laughter, short but loud and quickly wanted to pull it back. His smile got wider, all white teeth and dimples underneath the neatly trimmed beard.

  “Not buying that? I’m guessing you’re hung up on the royalty thing.” He pretended to think and then went on. “Okay, how’s this. You’re American, right?” He waited until she nodded. “Then I’m not your sovereign, just an employer and I can tell you what I want to be called, and I say that you call me Nick.”

  Isabel couldn’t help it. She laughed at him. It was too absurd and he was so very handsome and enticing as he pretended to have a dilemma. No wonder he was the sexiest man alive and the world’s most eligible bachelor. Adding the crown and a kingdom to his arsenal was unfair to every other man on the planet.

  “Stop.” She raised her hand in surrender and tried to stop the chuckle that tripped up the words in her throat. “Fine. Fine. I’ll call you Nick and you can feel terrible when I’m on the street and living in a box.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He joined her as the last of the dying laughter sank between them along with the sun as it began to slip behind the edge of the wall that surrounded the palace. Beyond it, you could hear the distant sounds of Callanos coming to life at night, the casinos and exclusive, pricey restaurants and clubs readying themselves for the rich and famous who flocked here to live the lives that most people couldn’t even afford to dream about.

  “My name is Isabel. Isabel Reynolds.” She looked up at him, finding that it was easy. His expression was so open and genuine. He was either a really nice guy or he’d learned to be an incredible actor when he’d attended prince academy. Or she was really cynical from her attendance at the school of hard knocks and disappointment, and suspected everyone. She tried hard not to let the hurts of her past color her present but sometimes it was hard.

  “It’s nice to meet the woman who kicked my ass.”

  “It was one morning and dumb luck.” She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself, sure that it was also on the “gestures not to make in the company of royalty” list.

  “No, that was the result of conditioning and training and determination. I know what I’m talking about.”

  Isabel remembered the image of him standing on the top riser while his country’s anthem played as the medal was placed around his neck. He did know what he was talking about.

  “Okay. You win that round.”

  “Are you training for a marathon or an event?” he asked, his eyes intent on hers. She didn’t know if she liked his directness or not. Nick looked right at her when he spoke, as if he was really trying to see her and it made her nervousnot that he was lookingbut that she found herself wanting to be seen. A year and a half of making sure she was invisible had become second nature and it was disconcerting to see how easily the mask could slip. Something she did or something in her expression made him stop, his hand reaching out in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry. I’m prying after practically scaring you to death and intruding on your personal space. F
orgive me.”

  He stood and brushed lightly at the seat of his dress pants, looking around him as if he needed to make sure his exit was clear. Isabel stood next to him, every part of her screaming for her to let him walk away, to be grateful that he was not going to stay and put her more in the spotlight with his questions and interest. She needed to be invisible and any attention from anyone was a bad thing. From a prince? Disastrous. But his disappointment was so clear and it was tinged by something she searched to comprehend. Anger? No. Confusion? A little. Frustration? Yes. Resignation? Yes.

  Whatever his life in the palace was supposed to be, this man was not…content. Not comfortable in his skin. He wore the suit well, the mask and the aura like a boss, but they were not his second skin. The man who’d asked about her training and joked with her about his name? Somehow she knew he was the real man behind the crown and she’d pushed him away when he’d come here for something. What, she had no idea, but she was still the old Isabel deep down and that girl could not let him go thinking he was in the wrong for asking a few innocent questions.

  Her hand shot out and grabbed his and they both froze for the split second after the skin-to-skin contact. Nick looked down at her, the question of the moment in his eyes and whatever was zinging between them. Isabel rose to her feet, aware that he was not letting her go and not inclined to instigate the separation. That thought alone should have made her take a couple thousand steps back but she hung on, enjoying the warmth he lent her.

  “I’m not training for anything in particular.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I train because…” Another moment to dig around in her brain for the perfect description and once she found it, it tumbled out as naturally as a waterfall. “I never want to be weak again.”

  His eyebrows elevated and his intelligent eyes zeroed in on her own and she realized just how revealing her answer was. He watched her carefully and she held her breath, wondering if he would let it go or not. Long moments passed until Nick finally dropped her hand and nodded toward the stoop, waiting until she sat down again before lowering himself back down to the stoop.

  “Well, I’ve royally fucked this up,” he murmured, his smile once again teasing at his full lips. “Pun entirely intended.”

  Isabel laughed, shaking her head at the absurd turn of her evening as she reseated herself beside him. “You came down here to meet me?”

  “Yes and no.” He made that intense eye contact again, and she was back to feeling like she was the only one in the world. “I needed to get some air and decided that if we were going to be running partners then we should at least know each other’s names.”

  “I’ve always known your name and who you were.” Isabel paused, deciding to be honest if only to see how he would react. He was so unlike what she expected so far and this bizarre situation was never going to happen again. How often did you get the chance to shoot the shit with an honest-to-God prince? She had no idea but she did know that she didn’t waste moments anymoreshe’d thrown too many down the drain in her past. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I didn’t know who you were the first couple of times we ran together.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I expected bodyguards or something and when none appeared I figured you were one of the staff.”

  “I guess that’s technically true. I do work here.”

  “No. No.” She shook her head. “You can’t say that when you’re the boss. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “I’m glad someone around here thinks I’m the boss,” he said, almost too low for her to catch and he moved his gaze to scan the grounds of his palace. His palace. Nick’s expression morphed from amusement to troubled in the time it took the light next to her doorway to turn on and bathe them both in golden light as the darkness descended.

  “Some people didn’t get the memo?”

  “Apparently not,” he said, his tone going deeper with his displeasure. It didn’t make it any less sexy but it was different and not something she expected to hear from a man who was going to be king in a few short weeks. Maybe the tabloids were right and he was a reluctant prince and didn’t want to be here at all.

  “Luckily for you, whether or not they read the memo doesn’t change the fact that you’re in charge. You call the shots,” she said.

  Nick’s head turned to look at her, the smile back on his lips. “You think it’s that easy?”

  She shrugged. “You’re the prince. It seems being in charge is all part of the princely program. Live in the palace, run the kingdom.”

  “The princely program? I like how you think, Isabel Reynolds. I should elevate you to my council.” Nick nudged her with his elbow and she nudged back before she remembered that shoving your elbow into the rib cage of the sovereign probably wasn’t on the to-do list either. He didn’t seem to mind, his grin growing wider, and she found herself grinning back. “So where are you from, Isabel?”

  She froze, the fun of the moment gone, and she willed her face to remain the same even though ice ran through her veins. This was the hardest part, taking a deep breath and tamping down the urge to panic. Eddie had told her to keep the lies as close to the truth as possible and there was less chance to screw it up. And Nick wasn’t the police, just an overly inquisitive prince.

  “I’m sorry. Did I ask something I shouldn’t? Again?” His face twisted with his misunderstanding. He was a savvy guy and if she couldn’t answer the simplest question without turning to stone, then she was never going to pull this off.

  “Alabama. Birmingham, Alabama.” She hoped to God he didn’t hear the hesitation as the unfamiliar words rolled off her tongue.

  “I went to a football game at the University of Alabama once. That sport is like religion there.”

  “Roll Tide!” Her voice sounded off even to her own ears and she dug down deep, mustering all the enthusiasm she could and diverting the attention away from her. “You must have traveled all over the world. Where was your favorite place?”

  Nick frowned at the abrupt change in topic and opened his mouth to answer when a man in a black suit slid out of the bushes like primordial ooze and she jumped, letting out a very tiny yelp.

  She pointed at the man who now stood a mere foot away from them, feeling her palms grow damp with the relief of ending the conversation. “I think you’re being summoned.”

  Nick swiveled, took in the new arrival, and then checked his watch, a muttered curse escaping into the dusk as he rose to his feet. On the way up he snagged her hand and drew her up alongside him.

  “I have an event tonight.”

  “Of course you do. That’s what princes do.”

  “Yes, we do.” Nick gazed down at her, his eyes examining her face as his thumb brushed over the knuckles on her hand. “So tomorrow…”

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  “We have a date.”

  She choked, her surprise making him laugh openly. She just tried to breathe in and out. “We do?”

  “Yes. We run at five, right?”

  “Oh, sure.” Isabel realized how lame she sounded, almost disappointed at his reference to their run. What else did she expect? A real date? “Five a.m. sharp.”

  “I’ll be the one in your rearview mirror as you kick my ass again,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go and backing away. He maintained eye contact until he reached the royal guard. “It was nice to meet you, Isabel.”

  “You too.”

  And then he smiled at her again and she knew why every woman in the world wanted him. He nodded and raised his hand in a wave before turning and melting into the dark.

  Isabel flushed as her mind raced over the last half hour, the heat traveling over skin and shielding her against the chill of sundown. Her pulse sped up and she caught her breath on a sharp inhale. Damn, but Nick was hot and charming and the very thing she needed to stay away from in spite of her crush. This whole thing was surreal and she’d been fooled by tall, blond, and says-everything-right before and it had all
gone to hell.

  But she’d become very adept at reading people since she paid the price for getting it wrong and Nick gave her the vibe that he was a good person. Easy to talk to and not anything like she expected. And while she was rusty on the finer points of male and female relationships it had certainly seemed as if Nick was flirting with her.

  With her. While she had her hair in a messy ponytail, the dust of the day on her clothes and wearing flip-flops. Incredible. And then she knocked her ass back into reality and remembered one crucial difference: this man was a prince. He probably had some princess or duchess or somebody he was supposed to be with. Not her. She was no princess; she was not Cinderella. She was a fake, a liar.

  An attempted murderess, a fugitive from the law.

  Chapter Three

  The Duke of Rushing was determined to be king.

  Nicholas sat at his place in the council room reading the document he’d received moments earlier. The paper was on the letterhead of a member of parliament and signed by Rushing and three other members. It was short but long enough to knock the entire country off its axis and to force Lord Batton to call together a council meeting at nine o’clock in the evening.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Lord Batton said to the assembled council members from his position at the other end of the long table where all twelve members sat and guided the sovereign in the ruling of Callanos. He looked tired and Nicholas remembered that he was as old as his father. “Your Royal Highness, he is calling for an inquiry into your fitness to rule and proposing himself as the obvious replacement.”

  “I guess the first question is whether or not Rushing can actually do this.” The question came from Lord Rone, a junior member of the council. “The last thing Callanos needs is more disruption.”

  “He can do it. It is all part of our parliamentary government and we can do nothing to stop him as he has the requisite support from at least two other members of parliament.” Lord Batton nodded toward the secretary who was handing out folders and placing them in front of each member. “These portfolios contain all the rules and documents you’ll need to know as we navigate through this mess. But the first thing we need to know is if Crown Prince Nicholas will challenge the allegation or if he will step aside and allow succession to pass to the Duke of Rushing and his heirs.”