Romancing The Crown: Lorenzo and Anna. Marilyn Pappano
Lorenzo’s words registered. When they did, she glanced up, startled, to find him scowling at her from the overstuffed chair from which he’d apparently been watching her for some time. Looking over the top of her glasses, she said, “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” he said flatly. “I want to read that. If there’s anything that might be harmful to the prince, you’ll have to take it out.”
Her eyes narrowed fractionally. “Really? I don’t remember anything in my agreement with King Marcus that gives you the right to censorship.”
“That’s because there isn’t one.”
“You’re damn straight, there isn’t one! I never would have agreed to it if there had been. This is the United States, Your Grace. We’re real big on freedom of speech, not to mention freedom of the press, around here.”
The citizens of Montebello were, too, but he only said, “It’s my duty to protect the prince. If I say there’s something in your writing that could be harmful to him, it’s coming out. End of discussion.”
She would have never deliberately placed anyone in danger with her writing, but what went into her column was for her and Simon to decide, not a fairy-tale duke who would be king. And it was high time he realized that.
“You think so, do you?” she taunted, arching a brow. “Well, take that!” And with a single key stroke, she sent the beginning of the feature in an e-mail to Simon.
Later, she realized it was her red hair that got her into trouble. The spark of temper that went along with that hair had been her cross to bear all her life. It had just flared like a match. She knew they were both under a great deal of strain, knowing the prince was out there somewhere, in possible danger, and they couldn’t discover where because her informant wasn’t in the mood to cooperate yet. She felt guilty and frustrated…and resentful that Lorenzo thought so little of her just because she was a reporter.
Stunned, Lorenzo couldn’t believe her defiance. No one had ever challenged him so openly before! Outraged, he stormed over to her, so frustrated that he stupidly thought there had to be a way he could retrieve the e-mail. “Give me that!”
“No! What are you doing? Let go!”
Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her computer and clutched it to her chest even as he reached for it, and for a second, they acted like two children fighting over a favorite toy. Then his fingers accidentally brushed against her breast and everything changed. In a heartbeat, awareness flashed between them like heat lightning.
Drawing in a sharp breath, Lorenzo froze. He was, he liked to think, a man who knew women. But in that instant, he felt like a sixteen-year-old who’d experienced the kick of sexual attraction for the first time in his life and didn’t have a clue what to do about it. With a will of their own, his eyes dropped to her lips, which had parted in a soft gasp, and his mind blurred. All he could think about was kissing her.
And it was all her fault. That soft, fresh scent of hers was driving him crazy. He’d dreamed of her last night, replayed in his sleep that moment in the used-clothing store when he’d helped her into the sheepskin coat and turned her in front of the mirror so she could see how pretty she was. He should have kissed her then. He’d wanted to, but the store clerk had watched them with an eagle eye, and the time hadn’t been appropriate.
But now they were alone and he could already taste her….
Need clawing at him, he reached for her…and saw his own need reflected in her eyes. And just that quickly, the fog of desire misting his brain cleared. What was he doing? he wondered wildly, stiffening. They didn’t even like each other! The only reason they were working together was because they were being forced to. And she was a reporter, for heaven’s sake! How had he allowed himself to forget that? God only knew what would end up in her column if he was stupid enough to drop his guard with her.
That brought him back to his senses as nothing else could, and with a softly muttered curse, he abruptly stepped back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking of rushing you like that. I’m just going crazy sitting around here twiddling my thumbs, and then when you sent that e-mail, all I could think of was getting it back. If anything happened to the prince because of something you wrote—”
“It won’t,” she said hoarsely, her heart pounding crazily. He’d almost kissed her, she thought, dazed, then told herself she had to be mistaken. She had a real talent for pushing his buttons. He was furious with her—why would he want to kiss her? Her imagination was just playing with her mind and her lonely heart, and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to make a complete fool of herself.
Focus on what’s important here, a voice in her head said sternly. If you want hearts and flowers, pick up a romance novel!
The story, she reminded herself, drawing in a calming breath. This was the biggest story of her life. Nothing else mattered but that. If the nights were long and she ached to feel a man’s arms around her again, holding her close, that was something she would just have to deal with.
“It was just the opening of the feature on the prince,” she said stiffly. “It was harmless.”
“Then why didn’t you let me read it?”
“Because I don’t have to.” It was as simple as that. “If we’re going to work together with any degree of success, you’re going to have to trust me. I know you don’t like reporters, and we both know how badly I want this story, but not at the expense of anyone’s life, especially the prince’s. That’s not who I am, Your Grace. If something happens to him before you find him, it won’t be because of me.”
For a long moment, he just stared at her with those probing, all-seeing eyes of his, and she was afraid that he would somehow see how much she regretted that he hadn’t kissed her. But she didn’t flinch, and something he saw in her steady gaze must have finally gotten through to him. The stiff set of his shoulders relaxed, and in his sigh, she finally heard acceptance.
“You’re right,” he said gruffly. “I’ve been acting paranoid just because you’re a reporter and that’s not fair to you. You’ve done nothing but be upfront and honest, and I owe you an apology.” Holding out his hand, he said, “I’d like to start over, this time as partners instead of adversaries. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
She’d never been one to hold a grudge, especially when an apology was so sincerely delivered. Relieved, she smiled and shook his hand and tried not to notice how nice his fingers felt when they closed around hers. “Deal.”
The next morning when they left to meet with Willy, there was no question that Eliza would do the talking. Lorenzo no longer had a problem with that. He’d set his ego aside and made peace, and as he drove over the rough terrain to their meeting place, he thanked God that he had Eliza along. They’d taken so many turns and twists on dirt roads that were little more than faint deer paths that he was completely turned around. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t find his way back to town if he had to—he had a compass and a damn good memory. But it would take him a while.
“This is it,” Eliza said when the terrain turned to almost pure rock. “We stop here and walk the rest of the way.”
Glancing around, Lorenzo frowned. There was no sign of another vehicle. “We’re early. Willy doesn’t appear to be here yet. Do you think he’s coming?”
“If he is, he’s here already. He would never take a chance of walking into something he’s not sure of. If he decided to meet with us, he got here hours ago so he could check the place out. C’mon, I’ve got something special to show you.”
Puzzled, Lorenzo stepped out of the truck, only to glance around in surprise as she joined him. “What’s that noise?”
“The waterfall,” she said with a grin. “Willy likes to meet here so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us.”
In his travels, Lorenzo had seen everything from Niagara to Angel Falls in Venezuela,