grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
“I smell a story here,” Hunter said.
“I smell tea here.” Although she preferred coffee, Selina picked up her cup and sipped, waiting for the reporter to leave.
The server, laden with filled plates, came to their table. “Shall I set another place?” She eyed Hunter while setting out the breakfasts, including Selina’s coffee.
“No,” Kam said. “This lady was just leaving. Ms. Hunter, are you a guest at this resort? I was told that only guests and employees were allowed on this island. Otherwise, I would not come here.”
The server scrutinized the reporter. “If you aren’t a registered guest, ma’am, I’ll have to call security. They’ll escort you to the ferry.”
Hunter reared back defensively. “I’m a guest here, just like these folks.” From another pocket, she hauled out a card key embellished with the candelabra-shaped resort logo.
Kam grimaced. “Can’t you get rid of her?” he asked the server, who paled.
“You’re in a difficult position,” Selina said to the server, mentally chastising Kam for again mistreating staff. “Sorry.”
“Just our luck,” Jerry said. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag, Kam. We might as well come clean.”
Selina stared at her grandfather. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kam’s brown eyes widen. The server fled.
“Yep,” Jerry said. “She’ll get us dead to rights.”
Kam exchanged an uneasy glance with Selina, who sensed that one of her grandfather’s surprises was about to be unveiled.
“Ms. Hunter, my granddaughter, Selina, and Prince Kamar have been corresponding via e-mail for some months.”
Marta’s eyes bugged out, and she clicked on the tape recorder. “Keep talking! Keep talking!”
“There’s not much more to say.” Jerry picked up his fork. “You must understand that negotiations between our families are of a very sensitive nature. We’re willing to give you an exclusive if you respect our privacy until arrangements are concluded.”
Selina gaped at Kam.
Kam gaped back. What on earth was the old man implying? That he, a prince of the House of Zohra-zbel, courted Selina Carrington?
She was a pretty enough woman, but before heaven, she was trouble on a plate. Though he’d dreamed about her gorgeous neck last night, she was exactly the kind of female he’d never consider as a wife. He shuddered to imagine Selina and her smart mouth at a state dinner.
Truly, he didn’t intend to wed at all, at least not until his royal duties required it. He knew that at some point in his life—hopefully in the distant future—his father, the king, would arrange for Kamar’s marriage to a suitable girl. She would be a virgin of good family, of course, and the union would bring political advantage or riches to the House of Zohra-zbel, the royal family of the Diamond Mountain.
Selina was beautiful and smart, but she was a nobody. Not marriage material. Never.
“An exclusive? What terms?” Marta asked Jerome Carrington.
Carrington gestured expansively. “You leave us alone until after the wedding, and you get the whole story before anyone else.”
The reporter’s cold green eyes narrowed. “How do I know you’ll keep the bargain?”
Kamar found his voice. “You don’t.”
“Without some assurances, no deal. As far as I’m concerned, the two of you are fair game.” Marta dug into her pocket and took out a cell phone.
“That’s enough.” Kamar stood. “My friends, I am sorry. Let us go back to our suites and I’ll make other arrangements to meet later today.”
“The suites? You’re in the suites?” Marta flipped the phone open and began punching buttons.
Kamar sighed. “Add the breakfast to my bill,” he said to the server.
As he left The Greenhouse, escorting the Carringtons, he could hear the pesky reporter talking on the phone to her superiors.
When they got outside, he exploded. “What in The Almighty’s holy name was that about?”
“Don’t yell at my grandfather,” Selina snapped. “He had a good reason for saying what he did. Um, you did, didn’t you?”
She turned to Jerome, who put a finger to his lips. “Not here, and not now. Kamar, can you find us someplace private to talk? Not our rooms. That woman knows where we’re staying.”
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