Romancing The Crown: Lorenzo and Anna: The Man Who Would Be King / The Princess And The Mercenary

“What did you say to him?” he asked with a grin, chuckling as he returned her hug. “For a minute there, I thought we were both toast.”

“I don’t know what he was so bent out of shape about. All I did was insist on buying my own drink. Geez! You’d have thought I insulted his family name or something.”

“If that’s his usual way of picking up a woman, no wonder he’s alone,” Lorenzo retorted. “Are you all right?”

She laughed, feeling foolish. “Yeah, he just caught me off guard. I just came in for some nachos, and the next thing I know, a man’s trying to take my head off.”

“Eliza, your table’s ready,” the hostess said over the speaker system that was wired into the bar and hostess area. “Table for Eliza.”

“Finally!” she sighed, relieved. Completely forgetting the fact that she’d wanted some time away from him to get her head on straight, she smiled and said, “Would you like to join me? We can split an order of nachos…or something else, if you like. I lost my appetite, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Nachos sound great—if you’re sure you want company,” he added. “After dealing with that jerk, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Oh, but you didn’t do anything! And if I hadn’t been so tired, I would have handled him with one hand tied behind my back.”

Lorenzo didn’t doubt that. If there was one thing he’d discovered about Eliza during the time he’d spent with her, it was that the lady was nothing if not self-sufficient. She carried her own bags, had no trouble taking the lead and never, ever, played the helpless female. A randy cowboy wouldn’t present any more of a problem for her than a flat tire. She’d deal with both, then go on her way.

And he liked that about her. The women he knew cringed at the thought of breaking a nail. None of them would have been caught dead traipsing through the mountains like he and Eliza had all day. They were too delicate for that, too cool to sweat. Not Eliza. She’d thrown herself into it with enthusiasm and never once complained. And she had no idea how much he admired her for that.

Still, he should have politely turned down her invitation. He hadn’t come into the bar in search of her—he’d wanted a drink to help him get her out of his head. Considering that, spending more time with her was not a wise thing to do. He should have said thanks but no thanks, and left her to his own devices while he ordered a double scotch. Instead, he heard himself say, “Lead the way.”

“Great! I hope you don’t mind jalapenos. I like my nachos spicy.”

Two steps behind her as they followed the hostess to their table, Lorenzo had to grin at that. Why wasn’t he surprised? She liked hot peppers, driving fast and doing whatever was necessary for a story. Whatever else the lady was, no one would ever accuse her of being a Milquetoast.

They arrived at their table then to discover it was located in a dark, intimate corner of the bar, away from the noise of the music and the conversation of the other customers. Lorenzo took one look at it and stiffened. Suddenly, splitting an order of nachos had become something else entirely, and he didn’t know how the hell it had happened.

He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. Eliza wasn’t any happier with the situation than he was. Frowning at the candle in the middle of the table, she muttered, “This is a bar, for heaven’s sake, not a romantic hideaway. We need another candle,” she told their waitress when she suddenly appeared with menus. “It’s dark back here.”

The waitress could have told her that bars were supposed to be dark, but she only shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do. What else can I get you?”

“Nachos,” Lorenzo said. “And another glass of wine for the lady, and a beer for me.”

She didn’t even write it down. “It’s coming right up,” she promised, then grabbed a candle from a nearby table where four young cowboys sat eating greasy burgers and drinking beer. Not missing a beat, she set the candle down in front of Eliza and moved on to the next customer. The cowboys didn’t so much as sputter in protest.

Her blue eyes twinkling, Eliza grinned. “I like her style.”

“She reminds me of you.”

That caught her by surprise. “Really? How? We don’t look anything alike.”

Since the waitress outweighed her by a good forty pounds and was a bleached blonde with a Dolly Parton hairdo, Lorenzo could understand her confusion. “Not in looks,” he explained. “It’s her attitude. She doesn’t let the cowboys around here make anything off of her. You don’t have any problem standing up for yourself, either. I heard how you spoke to your boss that morning he published the news that Lucas was alive. I was surprised he didn’t fire you.”

A rueful smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Simon wouldn’t do that. He might want to tar and feather me, but trust me, he’s not stupid enough to let the competition snap me up. Anyway, right’s right and wrong’s wrong, and he screwed up. Not that he would admit it,” she added. “There’s no fun in that.”

“It sounds like the two of you bicker like an old married couple.”

“Oh, we’re worse than that,” she laughed. “His wife said so!”

Chuckling, Lorenzo could just imagine them arguing over her column. She might gripe about Simon, but there was no question that she was fond of him…and that the editor brought out the best in her. Lorenzo had read her column. She was good.

“Your office must be a pretty wild place then,” he said as the waitress set the nachos they’d ordered in front of them. “How’d you get into writing? And about royalty, of all things?”

“Fairy tales,” she replied simply. “I’ve loved them since I was a little girl. When I discovered I had a way with words, it just seemed natural to write about the only people living modern day fairy tales.”

“Just because we live in palaces doesn’t mean life’s a fairy tale,” he said. “The prince’s plane crash is a fine example of that.”

“Fairy tales are full of tragedy,” she said with a shrug. “They just end with happily ever after.”

“And you think that’s how the prince’s story is going to end? All tied up with hearts and flowers and pink ribbons?”

He wasn’t the first person to react to her love of fairy tales with cynicism—she encountered it all the time. With him, as with the others, she merely smiled. “Time will tell, won’t it?”

She hadn’t meant to reveal so much of herself, but talking to him was so easy. As they munched on nachos and the waitress brought them fresh drinks, she told him about the screenplay she one day hoped to write, and he opened up about the years he’d spent in the military and how much he enjoyed being in charge of Montebello’s Royal Intelligence.From there, the conversation moved to their childhoods, their hopes and dreams, and where they each wanted to be when they were fifty. And somehow, time just seemed to slip away.

Eliza would have sworn they’d been there just a little over an hour when she glanced at her watch and saw that it was going on eleven. Shocked, she set her wineglass down with a thump. “Oh, my God! Look at the time!”

“Don’t panic,” Lorenzo laughed. “You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“Cute,” she retorted, wrinkling her nose at him. “I’ve still got to write my notes for today and check in with Simon. He’s going to kill me for calling so late.”

“He’ll get over it,” he assured her as he rose to his feet. “But it is getting late.”

When he reached into his back pocket for his billfold, Eliza knew she only had to let him pay and the evening would have been a date. She was horrified to discover that she’d never wanted anything more. “No!” she said quickly when he tossed down a twenty to pay the entire tab. “I’ll pay for mine.”

She watched his eyes narrow and knew he knew exactly what she was doing, but he didn’t argue. “That’s fine. We can go dutch.” And picking up his twenty, he exchanged it for a ten.

Eliza added her own ten, then followed him outside. Her heart thundering, she half expected him to insist on walking her to her motel room door, but she could just imagine what would happen if he did. He’d open the door for her, check inside to make sure her room was safe, and somehow or other, they’d end up in each other’s arms.

Just the thought of him touching her, kissing her, left her weak at the knees. How long had she wanted him to kiss her without even knowing it? she thought, stunned.

“…if that’s okay with you.”

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize he’d spoken until he looked at her expectantly. Brought back to their surroundings with a blink, she wanted to crawl in a hole. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll watch you from here,” he said, coming to a stop in the parking lot midway between their two rooms, “to make sure you make it to your room without any problems. If that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, no…I mean, yes! That’ll be fine.” Disappointed, she forced a smile and was thankful he couldn’t see her blush in the poorly lit parking lot. “Then I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

She could feel his eyes on her all the way to her room, but Eliza never looked back. She didn’t dare. Her key clutched in her hand, she slipped inside and quietly shut the door. A split second later, she called Simon. They might argue like cats and dogs, but when she needed advice, whether it was business or personal, she could always trust him to say the right thing.

“This better be good, Red,” he growled the second he came on the line and recognized her voice. “I was really sawing wood.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, stalling for time. Because she needed to think of some excuse why she had been too distracted to call in. She couldn’t very well tell her boss she was in over her head with a certain devastatingly handsome duke.

Slouched on her couch and feeling sorry for herself because her boyfriend, Derek, had dumped her for no reason, Ursula Chambers stared at the TV with a jaundiced eye and paid little attention to the local news anchor, who read the lead story with an irritating nasal drawl. So what if some missing prince was believed to be alive, she thought sourly. She missed Derek. And she still didn’t know why he’d walked out. They were good together, dammit! If he’d resented it when she joked around with his buddies, he should have told her he didn’t like it, and she would have stopped. She wasn’t a mind reader. But had he opened his mouth? Hell, no! He’d shut up like a clam and hadn’t talked to her for days, then the next thing she knew, he was packing his things. It wasn’t fair!

Frustrated and starting to get angry, she grabbed the phone and was just about to punch in Derek’s number to give him a piece of her mind when her eyes fell on the TV screen and a picture of the missing prince that flashed there. Confused, she frowned. What the devil was the reporter talking about? The man in the picture wasn’t a prince. He was her sister’s ranch hand, Joe.