bathroom. I’d never heard the expression before.’’ Mitch had followed her on her inspection tour. She gave a light laugh. ‘‘I was half expecting something labeled His and Hers.’’
‘‘No. Families do this when they have a bunch of kids. It makes it easier for them to share a bathroom without arguing over who’s spending too much time at the mirror.’’
‘‘I see.’’ Although she couldn’t. Alex didn’t think she’d ever shared a bathroom with anyone.
The sister bedroom to hers had been converted into a study complete with a desk across from a sofa and chair. The matching bay window faced a fenced paddock that held three mares. Alex crossed the room to gaze at them.
The animals grazed in the peaceful afternoon. She felt a flicker of envy. What would it be like to live a life like this one? ‘‘It’s so quiet here,’’ she said. ‘‘When I left Aspen, there were security people everywhere. My sisters were arguing over who got what bedroom, and the cook was complaining because the proper supplies had yet to be delivered. To make it all the more interesting, half the town had already figured out we were in residence, so there was a constant stream of cars driving by the front gates. It’s just a matter of time until the press starts camping out.’’
‘‘If your sisters are as pretty as you, then I can sure understand why. Any of you married?’’
It was the second time he’d complimented her. Over the years she’d been told many positive things about her appearance. Some had been outrageous flattery, and some she’d believed. Even so, no practiced collection of words had made her feel as flustered as this man’s casual comments.
‘‘Um, no. We’re all still single. I’m the oldest.’’ She smiled. ‘‘I’ve had several rock stars propose, but I’ve managed to steer clear of any romantic engagements.’’
He leaned against the door frame, and it seemed as if he held up the wall instead of the other way around. ‘‘I can’t imagine living like that,’’ he said. ‘‘I promise no press or rock stars out here. The most excitement will be when Betty, my housekeeper, finds out you’re really a princess. She has a thing for royalty. She follows the British royal family and that one in Monaco.’’
His gaze drifted over her body again. As he looked at her, she had the oddest sensation of heat and pressure, almost as if he was really touching her skin. How ridiculous, she told herself. It must be jet lag.
‘‘She’s going to want to fatten you up,’’ he said.
It took her a minute to figure out who the ‘‘she’’ was. ‘‘Your housekeeper?’’
‘‘Yeah. Betty’s not one for skinny women.’’
She wanted to ask about his preference, but didn’t have the courage. Besides, something wonderfully alive and hot flickered in his eyes. Something that made her mouth go dry and her legs tingle.
Their conversation was far too personal to be appropriate, she thought, trying to distract herself. Yet if she was honest with herself, she would admit that she didn’t want to change the subject. Nor did she want to complain about the way Mitch was looking at her. Because very few men bothered to see her as a woman instead of a princess. Alex would have bet her favorite pair of diamond earrings that at that moment he’d completely forgotten she was anything close to royalty.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘‘You have a very lovely home, Mitch, and I’m honored to stay here. Thank you.’’
‘‘Your watchdog hasn’t cleared me yet.’’
‘‘Is there any doubt?’’
He sighed. ‘‘Not a one. And I’m a dozen kinds of crazy for letting you move in, princess.’’
‘‘Will it be so awful?’’
His gaze settled on her face. She found herself studying his mouth and wishing it weren’t quite so intriguing.
‘‘Awful?’’ he asked. ‘‘No. It’s going to be worse.’’
* * *
At exactly seven that evening, as it did every Sunday night, the phone rang. Mitch picked it up on the first ring. ‘‘Hi, Mom, hi, Dad,’’ he said into the receiver.
‘‘Mitch!’’
His parents greeted him as they always did, their familiar voices bright with pleasure.
‘‘How are things up there?’’ Mitch asked as he leaned back in his favorite chair and closed his eyes.
He could picture his parents in their quarters in their bed-and-breakfast in the San Juan Islands in Washington state. They’d retired there about five years before with the intent of buying a small house and finally taking things easy. After six months they’d both been going crazy with boredom. As his mother put it, a body couldn’t spend a lifetime working from sunup until midnight and then just stop. So they’d purchased a small bed-and-breakfast, fixed it up and started catering to an upscale crowd. They both loved it.
‘‘We’re doing well. I have to tell you, though, some days I think cattle are a darn sight easier to deal with than people,’’ his father said.
His mother laughed. ‘‘He’s just annoyed because some of the guests wouldn’t go on his evening walk. You know how your father likes to collect everyone together, then herd them along the path by the cliffs.’’
‘‘The exercise makes them appreciate their dinners more. It’s healthy.’’
‘‘They’re on vacation, Bob. Let them rest.’’
It was a familiar argument. Enough of one that Mitch allowed himself to be distracted by faint noises coming from the back of the house. He hadn’t seen much of his guest since her security team had reluctantly cleared both him and his employees. They’d driven off only a short time ago, and that was after leaving him with pages of written instructions, phone numbers to call in case of emergency and a cell phone that connected automatically with the FBI.
He knew he was going to regret letting Princess Alexandra of Wynborough stay with him, and not just because she was going to be a pain in the butt. He was going to regret it because she was the first woman in a long time who tempted him. He couldn’t help staring at her body and wondering what it would feel like next to and under his. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and lick her and—
‘‘Mitch, are you listening?’’
His mother’s voice broke through his erotic daydream.
‘‘I’m here, Mom.’’
‘‘Is everything all right?’’
He’d decided not to mention his guest to his parents. His mom would get way too excited about royalty, and his dad would figure it was a cover for a hot romance and start talking about grandkids. ‘‘Everything’s fine. Have you heard from John?’’
There was a brief pause. He knew both his folks would be momentarily sad at the thought of their youngest son. They never understood his need to roam, although they respected it and always welcomed him home.
