A Prince Of A Guy

Then again in his car on the way home?

And once more in the living room?

Sean had been pretty gracious about the whole thing, really. He hadn’t yelled again, though she could tell he’d wanted to. Instead, he’d scooped up Melissa-careful to hold her at arms’ length-and had assured her she was okay.

Melissa had taken one look at him and had listened. She’d calmed down. She’d even wanted to hug him again, but Sean had managed to avoid that without hurting her feelings.

Just watching the two of them, Carly had felt that strange tightening in her throat. They didn’t seem to know the particulars of what their relationship entailed, especially Sean. But he’d never walk away.

Had she really compared him to the men in her family?

She’d been wrong, very wrong. Her parents had rarely been around, certainly not when she’d been sick. It was something she’d always ached for when she’d been hurting-warm, secure, loving arms. She’d rarely gotten them.

Melissa had no idea how lucky she was.

“Poor little rich girl,” Carlyne berated herself, pushing away the melancholy memories. No one in their right mind would spare a moment of pity for her.

On her cell phone, she punched in the numbers she knew by heart. “Francesca,” she said the moment her assistant answered groggily. “How are you?” she asked in their native French.

“How am I? Terrific. You, on the other hand, you have problems.” Francesca never held back to spare Carlyne’s feelings, which was the biggest reason they were so close. “In fact, let me list them for you. You’ve run away from home…”

“I did not.” Carlyne glanced at her still-shut door and lowered her voice. Wouldn’t do to get caught speaking French. “Look, we discussed this when I called you yesterday. I’m all grown up, Francine, so it’s entirely different when I go away. I’m…on vacation,” she said, unwilling to try to explain the mission she was on.

“Uh-huh. Vacation. Without any money, without a car, without-”

“Look, I didn’t call for a lecture. I could have called home for that.”

“Speaking of which, you might want to actually try that. Your parents have called looking for you. So has your cousin.”

“Yeah, only because they need me for something or another. It’s not as if they miss me.”

Francesca went quiet for a moment, and Carlyne winced at how pathetic she’d sounded. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

“What’s the matter? You sound different.”

She was different. She was Carly here, not Carlyne.

“Carlyne? Your mother is worried about that banquet you’re putting on for the international press.”

Heaven forbid her mother would call just to say hello. “Tell her everything is done. I’ll earn her thousands for all those charities.” And she would. It was Carlyne’s specialty, coaxing rich people to part with their money.

“And your grandfather-”

“Needs something, too, no doubt. Francesca. Help.”

“What do you need? A way to get home? I can come myself, or send-”

“No, I don’t want to leave.” Not yet. She’d wanted a break from her life. A glimpse at how everyone else lived. Well, she’d had more than a glimpse. No one knew her. No one treated her like glass. No one expected cool sophistication and smooth elegance. No one expected her to be anything or anyone other than Carly.

She wanted more of that.

“The help I need is different,” Carlyne said. “Francesca, if your sister had a kid, and she went off and left you with that kid for a couple of weeks because she had a job, would you watch after it?”

“Of course,” Francesca said immediately.

Of course. That simple. Unconditional love. No question, no hesitation. “I wouldn’t have said ‘of course,”’ Carlyne admitted quietly. “A few days ago I would have spent however much money it took and shipped the kid off for full-time care. And I probably wouldn’t have given it another thought.”

“Well, you’re not exactly experienced in matters of the heart,” Francesca said gently. “But while we’re on that, I think maybe it’s time for you to come clean.”

“Clean?”

“With Sean. Carlyne, we talked about this already, remember? When you had me get your references. We agreed Sean should know who you really are.”

“No, you agreed and I yessed you.”

“Carlyne.”

“Okay, yes, he should know.” She sighed, lay back and stared at the ceiling of her perfect, cozy little bedroom. “I’m just not ready to tell him yet.” She looked out the window into the night, saw the flash of someone swimming in the pool. A strong arm. A long, powerful leg. A smooth, muscled back.

Her stomach tightened. “Not quite yet,” she said softly.

Beneath the shimmering moon, Sean executed a somersault turn at one end of the pool and continued swimming with even, powerful strokes. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered.

“But-”

“I’ll call you again.”

“See that you do. I’m worried about you.” Across the miles Francesca let out a sigh. “Think about it, Carlyne. Think about how he’ll feel when he does find out, on his own.”

Sean’s arms propelled his body through the water. “He won’t.”

“Why? Because you’re unrecognizable?” Francesca laughed. “You’ve been dodging the paparazzi since you could walk, Carlyne. It’s only a matter of time before you mess up or he gets a clue. Then he’ll know your little secret, and I don’t see him being happy at being made a fool, no matter what your intentions.”

“It won’t matter to him.”

“It won’t matter that he has a princess baby-sitting for him?”

“That title is nothing but froth.”

“But it is your title.”

In the water, Sean slowed slightly, his only sign of tiring. He’d finish soon and haul that leanly muscled body out of the water.

Carlyne wanted to watch. She wanted to be front and center. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if he discovered her true identity. “I’ve got to go, Francesca.”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“I will.”

“Call me every day.”

“I will. Bye.” Instead of pulling off her disguise, as she’d been waiting all day to do, Carlyne opened her door and let in the cool, California night air.

Then she walked toward the pool.

When she was on the edge, she sat, careful to tuck her skirt beneath her this time so Sean couldn’t reach for a leg and pull her in. But the memory of him doing just that the night before, of his large, still damp hand sliding up her ankle to grip her calf, altered her breathing.

He stopped swimming. Treading water in the middle of the pool, he looked at her with an intense but unreadable expression.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Where’s your bathing suit?”

No greeting. No recriminations for destroying his office. Just where’s your bathing suit. Her breathing quickened all the more because she could only imagine what would happen beneath the starless night sky if she’d put it on.

If she was really Carly.

But if she followed through with this crazy attraction, he’d discover the truth about her. Never again would he look at her the same. She knew this for a fact, because in her life, it had happened over and over again.

She had two kinds of acquaintances. The people who wanted to know her simply because of who she was and the kind who, once they found out, were too full of awe and disbelief to maintain any honest relationship at all.