Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door

“So, you nearly killed Hank here? Well, I guess your wish is his command.”

“I coulda said no, Nate,” Hank argued, no doubt perplexed by the irritation in Nate’s tone.

Nate was a little perplexed, too. This anger, these emotions, they belonged to the past. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “No one says no to a princess, Hank”

The other man looked confused. Holly looked desperate. “I’m just an ordinary woman, Nate.”

The wind gusted, and the waves slapped higher on his thighs. He decided to allow the distinction for now, even though he knew firsthand that nothing about her was ordinary. Hell, he’d known that to be the case even when he hadn’t been privy to her true identity and royal lineage.

He waded the rest of the way to the plane’s float. “Put your arms around my neck.”

“Excuse me?”

Perversely, he enjoyed the fact that her eyes widened. Nervous, Princess? he wanted to ask. It would make him feel better to know that she was as shaken by this unexpected reunion as he was. Instead, Nate nodded in the direction of the shore. “Unless you’d rather walk to the beach, I’ll carry you. I’m guessing those pretty shoes of yours probably aren’t meant to get wet.”

They were red leather flats with fat bows stretched across the toes. He could only guess what they cost. In her world, they would be considered casual. As would the understated linen suit she’d paired with them. In his, they would pass for Sunday best. If this was the kind of clothing she’d brought to blend in with the locals and the majority of tourists, she was going to stick out like a sore thumb.

“Right.” She gave a quick dip of her chin before tilting it up. He remembered that defiant gesture from their childhood. She’d used it whenever he’d issued a dare.

“We don’t have all day,” he prodded when she hesitated. “I have to help Hank secure his plane for the night.”

“I’m not staying,” Hank called from the other side of the Cessna. “Got a card game waiting for me back on the mainland. Gerald’s cousin is in town. Guy is damned unlucky at poker, but he bets like a Vegas high roller.”

“You’re staying,” Nate disagreed. “One suicide mission an evening is enough. You can bunk at my place.”

Hank cocked his head to one side as if considering. “Got any cold beer?”

“Yeah.”

The other man shrugged. “I guess I can be persuaded. ‘Sides, the guy’s here through the weekend. I’ll settle for picking your pocket at cards tonight.”

Nate turned his attention back to Holly and held out his arms. She offered a tentative smile as she reached for him, and then she was in his embrace. She felt a little too good there, a little too perfect, with the side of her body pressed against his chest. Nate recalled the girl she’d been: long-limbed and lithe, verging on skinny. This was no girl he held. While she was still slender, during the intervening years she’d filled out nicely in all of the right places.

He started toward the shore, eager for the safety of the sand so that he could release her. Be free of her? Not likely. Until today, he’d thought he had been. Now? He was cursing his arrogance. She’d always been there, in the back of his mind.

His stride was purposeful, but perhaps a little too fast given the conditions and the added distraction of a beautiful woman in his arms. She had his hormones starting to lurch as powerfully as the surf. He stubbed his toe on a rock and managed to right his balance only to lose it again entirely when his other foot connected with another one.

“Nate!”

Holly’s grip on his neck tightened to a choke hold as he veered from one side to the other. He tried to right himself, but it was too late. Momentum and waves were working against him. He knew a moment of utter defeat just before he toppled over, sending them both into the chilly, knee-deep water. It was too shallow for her to be submerged completely, but between the waves and the splash their bodies made going down, they were both good and soaked. The hair on one side of her head was slicked to her face. So much for the shoes he’d so chivalrously offered to help save from harm. They likely were as ruined as her oatmeal-colored pant-suit.

He expected outrage from her, perhaps even a good dressing down. She was a princess,

after all. And he was but the owner of a small, albeit well-tended, resort.

But what he heard over the wind as Holly pushed to her feet was laughter. Unrestrained, boisterous laughter.

“That was smooth, Nathaniel. Yes, indeed. Very smooth.” Grinning, she put out a hand, offering to help him up. She looked just then very much like the impish young girl who used to take such delight in playing pranks on him.

Nate felt like an idiot, and he knew he looked ridiculous. That didn’t stop him from clasping her palm. Nor did it prevent him from joining in her mirth as he rose and shoved the hair back from his face. The situation was funny, even if it came at his expense.

Behind them, Hank was chortling away, too. Nate groaned. His reputation was toast. Unless he got lucky and the storm took out the phone lines and closed the locals’ favorite tavern, news of this mishap would be the talk of the island before another sunset.

“Sorry about that. I lost my footing.” As they reached the shore, he couldn’t resist adding, “I might have maintained my balance,

but you’ve put on a few pounds since we were kids.”

Holly turned. Her mouth formed an indignant O as she thumped his chest with one small fist. “A gentleman isn’t supposed to say such things to a lady.”

Her words, even though they were said in jest, caused him to sober. She was more than a lady, she was a princess. Just that quickly, the gulf between their worlds gaped wide once more.

Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he said, “I’d better go and give Hank a hand.”

It took no more than fifteen minutes for Nate and the pilot to pull the plane ashore and beach it. Just to be on the safe side, they used the trunk of a big cedar tree that leaned toward the lake as a mooring. The Cessna wouldn’t be going anywhere, despite the coming storm. Nate hoped the same could be said for all of the boats and the several large yachts moored at the resort’s marina. Time would tell.

All the while, Holly waited patiently out of the way, soaked to the skin and shivering, but no complaints passed her lips. And he’d been expecting them. When her luggage was unloaded, her expression was one of chagrin.

“Just how long are you here for?” Nate asked, eyeing the trio of designer bags.

A pair of delicate shoulders rose in a shrug. “Perhaps as much as a week.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “A week, hmm?” He could pack for a week in one small duffel, especially this time of year.

“I wasn’t sure what I would need,” she said.

For a moment he forgot that he was speaking to royalty. She was simply Holly. “Tank tops, shorts, a pair of comfortable walking shoes, maybe a hoodie for cool nights and a swimsuit would do.”

“I packed those …. And a little bit more.”

“So I see.”

The contents of his closet could fit in those bags, but Nate decided to give her a break. After all, he’d been around enough women to know they had a whole different definition for the word essentials.

She reached for the smallest bag. It had wheels, not that they would do much good on the sand. “Sorry to be an imposition.”

An interesting choice of words, to be sure.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

Her expression brightened. “I’d hoped to rent the cottage Gran and I always stayed in at your parents’ resort.”

“My parents are gone.”

“Gone?” She looked alarmed.

“Retired,” he clarified. “They moved to Florida four years ago.” Just after he’d returned to the island from a job at one of the swankiest hotels in Chicago.

“The resort?”