yes, the little princess meets real life in rural America. And runs from it. Hopefully, at top speed.
He moved a little closer to her so he could grab her if she went pale and started to slide from her chair. He hoped he wouldn’t have to. She’d removed her jacket, and the top she was wearing molded curves delectable enough to make a man’s mouth go dry—without any kind of touching.
Oh, yeah, it was perfect. She had the deer-in-the-headlights look as she gazed at his offering.
Then she lifted her eyes to his.
They were green and clear, and there wasn’t even a trace of hysteria in them.
“That isn’t a mouse,” she said, “it’s a vole. See how sharp its nose is?”
She picked up the trap and held it toward him. Garner, before he could catch himself, took a hasty step away. A grin split her face and it changed everything about her. In an instant she went from being far too sober, too refined, too rich, to looking like a girl who was brimming with mischief and life.
He felt a ripple of shock.
It was now very apparent to him that Jessica King was not even close to being what he thought she was.
That was too bad. Because what he had thought was not the least appealing.
And this girl in front of him, inspecting the dead mouse—vole—with grave interest was appealing in a way he didn’t even want to think about.
The guys all laughed at her reaction, knowing damn well he’d hoped for quite a different one. Clive gave him a very unsubtle be nice look.
“It’s not even a deer mouse,” she said with a touch of disdain. “I might have been afraid of that. Hanta virus carrier.”
What the hell was she studying at university? Obviously not what he had thought: Mansion Decorating 101 and Social Climbing 303.
After that, it was guy talk over morning coffee. Cars. Baseball. Fishing. The princess, unfortunately, didn’t look the least bit bored. In fact, she rather looked as though she was enjoying rubbing shoulders with the common folk.
And the mischievous light burning in her eye deepened when there was finally a break in the conversation. “Garner and I had a small bet this morning.”
She had their full attention, and she enjoyed every minute of it.
“He seemed to think I was the wrong person for this job.”
“Hey, two hours doesn’t make you employee of the year!” he said.
“The bet wasn’t whether I was going to be employee of the year. The bet was whether I would make it two hours or not. And gentlemen, I have!”
There was hooting and loud applause. He saw the pleasure flash across her face at the rowdy male approval, and he realized that probably sealed it. Miss Jessica King wasn’t going anywhere.
“What was the bet?”
“Clive, I’m so glad you asked,” she said sweetly. “The bet was if I made it working here for two hours, Garner was going to eat his shorts.”
This announcement was followed by great guffaws and knee-slapping.
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