Searching For Her Prince

She was talking as if she’d never see him again. That was what he’d planned. In fact, in the back of his mind, he’d decided he would take her to bed tonight if she was willing and say goodbye in the morning. But now he knew she was too innocent for a one-night stand, and he couldn’t do that to her. He also knew that one day of being with her wasn’t enough. She’d brought light and sunshine into his life again, and he wasn’t ready to give that up.

“You told me you like to jog in the mornings, but you’ve been afraid to do it here. We could jog in Lincoln Park tomorrow morning if you’d like.”

“Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Another day won’t hurt. I’m going on a vacation on Sunday, anyway. I’ll just start it sooner than I planned. Is eight o’clock too early?”

She shook her head. “Eight will be fine.”

And then he couldn’t be with her and not kiss her any longer. His hand slid to her neck into her luxurious hair. She’d worn it down today, and it was silky and soft. The style made her look a lot less proper.

As he held her, she tipped her chin up, and he knew she wanted the kiss as much as he did. Where they’d fallen into the first kiss with a ferocity that had stunned them both, he took this one slowly, easing them into it. When his tongue laved her lower lip, she opened her mouth to him. With the lights of the city below and music enfolding them, he felt bowled over by her. He’d never felt that way before. He’d always been the one in control, the one who called the shots. Danger signals went off in his head, but he quieted them with the idea that this could never be serious, that they’d never have the time to get truly involved. Even if they did go to bed together tomorrow or the next day, they both knew that would be the end of it. Their lives were an ocean apart. This was just one of those flings that happened on a weekend or over a holiday.

As he took the kiss deeper, the warning bells kept sounding.

Before his control snapped altogether, he pulled away. “I think I’d better introduce you to my housekeeper.” Flora was just what they needed—a chaperone. Besides, he wanted to prove to Amira that he hadn’t been lying to her and he did have a housekeeper.

You’re lying to her about who you are.

No, I’m not, he thought quickly. I just haven’t told her my real name.

Amira looked as dazed by the kiss as he felt. “That would be a good idea. Then I’d better go.”

He saw she felt it, too—the need to be more than friends, the need to do more than kiss. But he wouldn’t take advantage of her—not her shyness or her innocence or her proper upbringing.

Taking her hand, he led her inside to a snack of tea and cookies rather than their first night of passion.

Amira was as fascinated by the city as she was everything else about the United States—even more fascinated by Brent running beside her. He was wearing shiny black running shorts. His legs were hair-roughened, his thighs powerfully muscular. His soft black T-shirt was loose. As he ran, it molded to his well-defined muscles, and she could see the power in his body. She was sure he was slowing his pace so she could keep up.

Brent glanced over at her often, and she didn’t know if that was because of her hot-pink running suit in the latest fabric for sportswear or because he just wanted to look at her. She knew she’d be a sight at the end of their run. She always was. She’d banded her hair into a ponytail, but strands escaped and floated around her face.

A few joggers passed them as they ran along a wide path. Amira tried to keep her attention on her breathing rather than on Brent and everything she remembered so vividly whenever she looked at him. He’d given her a perfect day yesterday—absolutely perfect. And that kiss last night…

His first kiss had thrilled her and scared her. Last night’s kiss had opened a doorway and given her a glimpse of the kind of passion they could share. That was almost worse than being scared. It was a temptation from which she knew she had to turn away. Everything she’d been taught, all of her mother’s counsel, warned her she was headed for disaster. Yet on this October day, with the sun shining so brightly on her head and in her heart, she couldn’t heed the warning.

“Do you hear that?” Brent asked, suddenly stopping.

Caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard anything unusual. Now she listened and heard a low whine coming from a copse of bushes. “It sounded like an animal.”

“My bet is it’s a dog. Come on, let’s go look.”

Slowly…cautiously…Amira followed.

Pushing away the bushes, Brent hunkered down and looked beneath them. “Hello there, fellow. Are you hurt?”

“What is it?” Amira asked, crouching down herself.

Brent held his hand out to the animal that Amira still couldn’t see.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Brent said as if he expected the animal to understand. “Can I bring you out here?”

Since the animal stood perfectly still and didn’t snarl or bark, Brent gently pulled the dog out into the sunlight.

Amira got her first good look. “Isn’t she adorable? What do you think she is?”

The dog was small, brown—the color of hot chocolate—and bedraggled looking, as if she’d been on her own through days of wet and dry weather. Her fur was muddy and there were leaves clinging to it, but she seemed to like the idea of Brent scratching her between the ears. She barked a few times.

Brent ran his hands carefully over the dog’s body. “Probably a mutt—looks like part beagle. She’s too thin, but other than that, she seems okay. Nothing a good bath wouldn’t fix.” He examined her neck. “No collar or tags.”

“What are we going to do about her?”

“We can’t leave her here. She could eventually run into traffic, or someone might hurt her. She needs food and care.”

“But if she belongs to someone…”

“In case she has one of those identifying computer chips under her skin, we’ll take her to a vet and get her checked out. Is that okay with you? I know it’s going to cut short our jog.”

“The jog doesn’t matter. We have to take care of her.”

The smile Brent gave her almost made her melt. “It looks as though we’re both animal lovers.”

“Yes, it does.” She was finding so many things about Brent that she liked…too many things. Their gazes locked, and the intensity in his eyes should have scared her, but it didn’t today.

Suddenly the dog barked again, and Brent laughed. “It seems she wants our attention.” He scooped her up into his arms. “Come on, let’s see if she has a home.”

An hour later a vet had checked the dog over thoroughly and agreed that except for needing a bath, she seemed healthy. There was no computer chip in evidence, and he asked Brent what he was going to do.

“I’ll take her home.”

“You’re going to keep her?” Amira asked, a bit surprised by that, since Brent worked so many hours.

“Just for now. I know of a place she’ll be happy. In the meantime, I’ll get her cleaned up and fed well.”

Back at Brent’s penthouse—a half hour later—doggy shampoo in hand, Brent led Amira into his bathroom. It was huge with black and white tiles, a shiny black enamel sink and a huge black whirlpool tub. He filled it while she cooed to the pup and fed her a biscuit they’d gotten from the veterinarian along with other supplies.

“Did you ever have a dog when you were a boy?” she asked Brent now, as he checked the water to make sure it was the right temperature.

He didn’t answer right away, just concentrated on the water flowing into the tub. Finally he said, “No, I didn’t,” and didn’t elaborate. Something in his tone alerted her to pain behind the simple statement.

“You don’t talk about yourself easily do you?” Even though they’d spent all day yesterday together, she hadn’t learned much about him.

“Usually no one wants to listen,” he said jokingly.

Again she caught some truth behind his words. What makes a man bring home a lost dog? Maybe a loneliness in himself? Maybe knowing what it’s like to feel abandoned? “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me,” she said softly.

Time ticked by in heartbeats. “I think right now we ought to name the dog,” he finally said. “Any ideas?”

She’d learned already that Brent was good at turning attention away from himself, and she let him do it this time. “I think she’s the color of hot chocolate.”