Millions to Spare

“You were born in a castle?”

“Yes.”

“Why not a hospital?”

“Tradition. Bragging rights. I don’t know.”

“So your poor mother had you in a castle so you could brag about it in later life?”

He threw up his hands. “There was a doctor in attendance.”

“Well, wasn’t that good of you.”

“I was a newborn at the time. Wait. No, not quite a newborn at the time.”

“Barbaric,” muttered Julia.

“It was her choice,” said Harrison.

“Well, I’ll be going to a hospital.”

“Good to know.”

Julia took a sip of her juice. “Brothers and sisters?”

“One sister. Elizabeth. Are you always this poorly prepared for an interview?”

Julia ignored his question. “So Elizabeth’s on the British crown list, too?”

“Considerably farther down than me.”

“Do you think that’s fair?”

“Are you here to talk about my horse or revolutionize the British monarchy?”

“We can’t do both?”

He cracked a grin. “Better women than you have tried.”

She moved a little closer. “Are you saying you agree with such a misogynistic approach to succession?”

He leaned in, as well. “I’m saying, at number two hundred and forty-seven, there’s little I can do about it.”

“You could oppose it.”

“In my spare time? I’m a busy man, with a lot of important business dealings and connections, international connections.”

Was he bragging?

He seemed to be watching for her reaction to that statement.

“Okay,” she drawled. “And how long have you lived in Dubai?”

He straightened, peering at her a few seconds longer. “I’ve owned Cadair for ten years. I spend winters here, summers in England.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“Engaged?”

He hesitated. “Not yet.”

Julia experienced a jolt of curiosity. What kind of woman would marry a man like Harrison?

Then she quickly realized just about any kind of woman would marry him.

“Sounds like a scoop for me. Who is she?”

“Who says I’ve picked her out?”

Julia cocked her head. “So can I tell my female readers you’re still available?”

“Julia, you have no female readers. You have no readers, period. This is a sham.”

“Then why are you going along with me?”

“I’m trying to figure out what you’re up to.”

“If I leave, I can’t be up to anything, can I?”

“If you leave,” he countered, “you could be up to absolutely anything.”

“I really need to call my friends.”

He shook his head.

“They’re going to think I’m dead.”

He got that intense, probing look on his face again. “Now, why would they think that?”

“Because I disappeared for twenty-four hours in a foreign country. In my world, that’s weird.”

“And what world is that?”

She leaned forward, slowing her speech, enunciating each word. “Horse-race reporting.”

“I almost believe you.”