“Of course we want to.”
“The place is a dump!”
“A…”
“It’s a wreck. A mess. A ruin.”
“I am aware it’s not in the best condition. It needs a bit of work, but I’m sure my… friends and I can make do.”
“You almost sound as if you like the idea of having to stay here.”
“I do.”
“Why? I mean, there are better locations, and definitely better buildings.”
He couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t possibly admit that he was staying because of her. Because she was in danger. Because she’d fought him and confronted him and disliked him—and yet still kissed him as if she needed his breath to survive. Because she was, right now, rubbing the soft pad of her thumb against his, sending frissons of sensation through him as he imagined all the other ways, other places, he wanted her touch.
So he settled for replying, “It’s where I need to be, and you can’t pay me back, so I’m making the best of it.”
She blinked rapidly, nibbled her lip and pulled her hand away to clench it with her other one. Finally, as if not quite believing she was saying it, she agreed.
“All right, then. If you’re completely sure, I guess you’ve got yourself a place to live for the month. But just until the New Year.”
Actually, he didn’t have quite that much time. He’d lost days in travel, and would on the way home, too. So he had only a little over three weeks before he’d have to start heading back to Elatyria. Less than one month of freedom before his responsibilities would take over his life.
Not much time to find the woman of his dreams, one he could love for the rest of his days.
Or, in case he’d already found her, not much time to make her fall in love with him in return.
3
ALTHOUGH PHILIP WAS certain Claire was the only woman he wanted to get to know, his two compatriots insisted he follow his original plan to meet as many as possible before pursuing anyone. He’d had to keep an open mind and at least allow the possibility that he’d meet someone else who interested him more.
So, despite wanting to do nothing but find reasons to bump into the lady, which he did a few times—or better yet, find reasons to kiss her again—he had to leave the apartment and get out and about in New York. He visited museums, rode the subway, consumed horrible coffee in dingy cafés and excellent Scotch in swanky restaurants. He was flirted with, propositioned, and even argued over by two women at a club—yet his heart didn’t so much as skip a beat for any other female he set eyes on. Only her.
Whenever he wasn’t out fulfilling his obligations to his kingdom and his family, he was at the apartment, fulfilling his vow to protect Claire. She didn’t know the Elatyrians were on guard. It seemed American women were touchy about being protected by a man.
Philip kept watch from the stairs, or the back alley, or from across the street. Shelby had complained incessantly, especially about the cold, but Teeny was happy to help, since being a bodyguard was his job and his favorite thing to do. He would love for something to happen so he could crush someone, and Philip had had to physically drag him away from a taxi driver who’d paused in front of Claire’s shop for too long.
After a few days, Philip began to relax his guard, feeling fairly confident they hadn’t overlooked any scurrilous characters lurking around, and he released his friends from their duty. But he didn’t release himself. He kept watching, not only because it was still possible she could be in danger, but because he’d rather stay here, getting to know her moment by stolen moment, than exchange a word with anyone else.
Guarding her had given him the chance to see her in so many guises. Claire was always smiling and friendly toward her customers, patient with her annoyingly perky clerk. She looked happy when hanging colorful holiday decorations in the window, and he’d heard her humming Christmas tunes when closing up at night. She always bent down to eye level when a child entered the shop and usually slipped the little ones a free chocolate if their parents approved.
Every morning, after the early rush and before the lunch-hour one, she would sit at the same small table in the front window. She’d slowly sip a cup of coffee, staring out at the world with a dreamy expression on her face, as if for those few minutes she was allowing herself to let go of her responsibilities and thinking only lovely thoughts.
He liked those moments especially. Claire looked young and fragile and almost carefree, when usually she was so strong and hardworking. But always beautiful.
Sometimes, though, she looked utterly weary. Like right now.
Philip stood at the top of the staircase, watching from the shadows. Though not on constant vigil, he did like to keep an eye out after she closed up, wanting to be there when she made the short walk down the darkened hall from her store to her small apartment. Since she usually kept the back door to the building unlocked during the day for deliveries, he was always tense about these transition times and wanted to make sure she got there safely.
Tonight, she looked exhausted, having worked a long, ten-hour shift by herself. Her eyes were shadowed, her face pale. She hadn’t even finished locking the shop door behind her before she was reaching up to tug at the clips in her bun, letting the thick mass of dark hair tumble down over her shoulders. It fell in a sea of curls to midway down her back, luscious and inviting, like the richest chocolate she sold.
Philip made a small sound of approval, not even realizing he’d done it until she jerked her head and peered up into the shadows, her eyes wide, a little frightened.
“Pardon me, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, walking down the stairs toward her.
“Oh, it’s you,” she replied, her voice holding a tremor. He wondered if she’d had a few sleepless nights, waiting for her brother’s unsavory friends to pay a visit. “What are you doing?”
Philip lifted a bag of rubbish that he’d brought along in case they bumped into one another. “Just taking this out.”
“Okay.” She lifted a hand, self-consciously smoothing her hair, as if uncomfortable about having taken it down.
“It’s beautiful,” he told her sincerely, though he wished the hallway wasn’t so shadowy, so he could see all the variations of color. What he’d originally thought was simply a dark, rich brown appeared to have lighter streaks, but he couldn’t be sure. “Keeping it up and hidden away is criminal.”
There was a brief hesitation while she stared at him, as if unsure how to respond. He sensed she was unused to compliments. Which told him men here were not only blind but stupid.
Finally, she chuckled softly. “Tell that to a customer who finds a long strand of hair in his candy. Eww.”
Philip conceded the point. “When you are not working, then.” Reaching out, he smoothed an errant strand, fingering its softness, then tucked it behind her ear.
She sucked in a breath. Philip dropped his hand. The air in
