Once Upon A Prince

“Then I guess I’ll be sleeping down here.” He frowned at the leather sofa.

Shey would bet a big wad of cash that princy had never slept on a couch in his entire life.

Heck he’d probably never even slept on a twin bed. It was all king-size mattresses for the prince, she was sure.

“No,” she said patiently. “You’ll be going back to your hotel and sleeping there in your nice, spacious penthouse suite.”

She wasn’t sure if the new hotel had a penthouse suite, but if it did, that’s where the prince would be staying.

“Come on,” she urged. “You’ve had your fun, but this plan isn’t going to work. Parker’s going to stay as far away from me as possible, at least until I shake you. So call one of your henchmen to come pick you up, or if you prefer, I can call you a taxi.”

“If Parker is your family, as you claim, then she won’t be able to stay away for very long. She’ll eventually come to your rescue. And when she does, she’ll find me waiting to talk to her.”

“You’re not spending the night,” Shey said with mounting frustration. She felt a totally out-of-character urge to stomp her foot. She caught herself pre-stomp and settled for crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m going to undress now,” the prince said with a smile. “Of course, you’re welcome to stay, if you like.”

“Threatening to undress in front a stranger.” She shook her head and tsked. “And you an engaged man, and all.”

He pulled off his jacket and reached for the buttons on his shirt.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“Try me.”

She felt a tug of curiosity and realized that if the man unbuttoning his shirt hadn’t been a prince—a prince who thought he was engaged to her best friend—she’d be very tempted to try him.

Instead of staying for the show, she turned and said, “Fine. I’m leaving.”

“Oh, do you have a pillow and blanket I can use?”

Do you have a pillow and blanket, he asked in the condescending princy tone. As if someone who didn’t have a mansion or a guest room wouldn’t be able to come up with even a pillow and blanket for a guest.

An uninvited guest, but a guest nonetheless.

How on earth had she found herself in this situation?

Truth was, she didn’t have a spare blanket or pillow. She didn’t need them. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she never had guests. But she wouldn’t admit that to princy.

Shey stomped up the stairs to her room and took the bedspread and one of the three pillows off her own bed, then carried them back downstairs.

He had completely unbuttoned his shirt, but still had it on. Shey was grateful for that.

Yes, the feeling that washed through her was thankfulness, though surprisingly it felt a bit more like disappointment. Who’d have thought those two distinctly different emotions could feel so similar?

“Here,” she said, holding out the bedding.

Tanner bowed at the waist and said, “Thank you,” then took them.

She couldn’t go without one more try to make him see reason. “Being my shadow is a waste of time.”

“Ah, but it’s my time to waste.”

* * *

Tanner lay on the leather couch wrapped in the blanket Shey had brought. His head rested on the pillow.

Both smelled like her. Warm and spicy.

No sweet cloying scent for Shey.

He smiled.

Shey Carlson was an exceptional woman.

Captivating, even.

He chuckled as he thought about her attempts to get rid of him.

She was tough. She protected her friends with a ferocity that he couldn’t help but admire.

Tanner was used to softer women.

Shey was all warrior.

He rolled again, trying to find a comfortable position, but the movement simply intensified Shey’s scent. It was playing on his senses—surrounding him.

Tanner gave up trying to sleep and resigned himself to a sleepless night.

Here he was in a strange city—a strange country—sleeping on a stranger’s couch. And his fiancée was less than enthused by his visit. He’d hoped when he saw her that he’d feel the magic, he’d feel some spark that would reassure him that they could make a go of marriage.

Instead he’d felt…nothing. Nothing but the remnants of a childhood friendship.

No lightning strike of passion.

No small blaze of interest.

Not even the tiniest ember.

After his disastrous relationship with Stephana, he’d seen the wisdom in his father’s arrangements. Tanner felt that he wouldn’t ever truly know if a woman loved him and not his money and titles, so why not marry a woman who had enough of each not to be after his?

In the end, Stephana had decided all the money in the world wasn’t worth the hassles of noblesse oblige, the obligations of nobility. She claimed she hadn’t signed on to be an unpaid workhorse. She wanted to party, to spend Tanner’s money. When she saw that wasn’t what she was signing up for, she left.

He didn’t miss her. And he was honest enough with himself to know that not missing Stephana meant he’d never really loved her. Whatever he’d had with her, it had been a fraud on both their parts.

He and Parker would at least have honesty between them.

But no spark.