The Trouble with Mojitos. Romy Sommer
mother, like son. He could picture it already.
He towelled himself dry, dressed in his jeans, and emerged from the bathroom just as the room service waiter rolled in a trolley of pastries and steaming coffee. His stomach turned over, in a good way this time.
Kenzie had her back to him. She signed for the meal, closed the door behind the waiter, and turned.
She coughed.
“Please put your shirt back on.” Her voice sounded strangled.
“Do I offend your modesty?” he asked, feeling an insane urge to grin at her reaction.
She shook her head and swallowed again. “You have tattoos.”
“No, really? How did that happen?” He looked down at himself, eyes wide in mock shock.
She frowned.
“You don’t like tattoos?”
“I love tattoos.” She turned away again, fussing over the trolley and pouring coffee.
This time he grinned. And didn’t bother putting his shirt back on.
“Those tattoos aren’t new,” she said as she handed him a cup of coffee, careful not to look at him.
“No, they’re not.” They’d been his one and only form of rebellion, done right here in the islands on a holiday a couple of years ago. He’d had to be careful after that to always keep his shoulders and upper arms covered. It wouldn’t do for the heir to a European throne to be seen sporting tattoos. Not even his parents had known they existed.
Now that he was free to do as he pleased he still kept them covered. They mocked him. The dragon of Westerwald that snaked across his shoulder blades and down his arms. The emblem of a nation he didn’t belong to. Had never belonged to, it turned out, though it was the only home he’d ever known.
These were tattoos that no person but he and the artist had ever laid eyes on before today. Kenzie had no idea how privileged she was. He could only blame the lapse on last night’s over-indulgence.
He set down his undrunk coffee and pulled his long-sleeved shirt back on over his head. “You can look again now.”
She cast a furtive glance his way, long enough for him to catch the heated flush rising up her cheeks again. Interesting. So she had a serious thing for men with tattoos. And she didn’t want to.
He was sure he could change her mind.
Now where had that thought come from? He’d never been a seducer of women. In his old life he’d had a girlfriend for over a year and barely tried for more than a polite goodnight kiss. Teresa hadn’t made his blood boil, and that’s exactly why he’d liked her. She’d been cool, calm and rational. She’d have made the perfect Archduchess. She would never have done anything sordid, would never have created a scandal.
She probably wouldn’t have approved of his tattoos either.
Kenzie was everything Teresa wasn’t. She wasn’t cool and collected. She wasn’t a style icon. And her emotions were far too easy to read. In spite of the vulnerable eyes and heart-shaped face, sensuality smouldered beneath the surface. Emotional, sexy, complicated … she was everything he’d avoided in his old life.
She was everything he no longer needed to avoid.
He found himself grinning again. It felt good to smile. Strange, but good.
“Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to drink your coffee so we can get moving?” she asked impatiently, perching on the edge of the sofa.
Was she always this bossy or was it just his charm that brought out her better side?
“Yes ma’am.” He gulped down the coffee, grabbed a slice of toast, and sat beside her on the sofa. Since he’d woken in the bed, she must have slept here last night, judging by the blankets and pillows piled at one end. She could have made him sleep on the sofa. However much she chose to deny it, Kenzie had a kind heart.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked.
“I did. While you were still snoring.”
“I don’t snore.”
She smiled, and it was an impish look. Forget smouldering sensuality. He’d guess she could be a downright bad girl if she wanted to be.
He set down his empty coffee cup, grabbed a cheese croissant from the basket and stood. “Where are my car keys? Let’s roll.”
She shook her head. “You’re not driving. I don’t trust you.”
It wasn’t just his driving. There was something in the rapid shuttering of her expression that told him exactly what she thought: it was him she didn’t trust.
It was a moment before he realised his mouth had dropped open. No one, ever, had thought him untrustworthy. And no one had ever looked at him the way Kenzie just had – as if he were a bug squashed beneath her shoe. Nope, no matter how attractive she found him, she didn’t like him.
He closed his mouth and followed her out into the corridor. The sickening feeling of disorientation was back in full force, and the unusual urge to grin deserted him.
***
The magical potion had definitely worn off. Rik clutched his head as Kenzie’s compact rental car bumped over the potholed road into town. “Could you possibly try not to hit every single one?” he groaned.
The look Kenzie cast him was beyond withering. “Are all the roads on the island like this one?”
“No. Most are worse.”
Only one tarred road circled the island, connecting the tourist resorts with the main town. Inland, where only the most adventurous visitors ventured, the roads were nothing but dirt.
She swerved to avoid the next major pothole, which was even worse than bumping through it. Rik hung onto the car door, feeling more than a little green. And she hadn’t trusted him to drive?
“You’re not booked into the hotel,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road. “Do you live here on Los Pajaros?”
“Something like that.”
He didn’t need to see her to know she had rolled her eyes. “You’re not good with small talk, are you?”
He was a master at small talk, had been trained in the art from the time he learned to talk. Along with many other skills that were all but useless now.
He shrugged and looked back out the window. On their right the sea flashed silver and inviting through the dense foliage that separated the road from the beach.
The undergrowth grew thinner, and the simple wooden dwellings clustered along the road grew more numerous. Then they crested the final rise and Fredrikshafen lay below them, a small town of broad avenues and colourful buildings.
Beyond the jumble of buildings lay the wide harbour. A vast passenger liner, winking white in the sunlight, dominated the largest of the piers that jutted out into the bay. Colour and vibrancy and light dazzled their eyes.
Kenzie sucked in a breath.
“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” he asked, managing a grin now that the ordeal of the drive was behind them.
She nodded. “It’s growing on me.”
The place was growing on him too. He’d come to Los Pajaros because he had nowhere else to go. There could be worse places to lose oneself.
The mayor’s office was housed in a white colonial building on an esplanade lined with scraggy palms that overlooked the harbour. Kenzie circled the block until she found a parking space and finally turned to Rik. “You sure you’re up for this?”
She wasn’t just asking how his hangover was doing. She wanted to know if he could really help her. This was his last chance to back out.