She had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘‘You have a very lovely home, Mitch, and I’m honored to stay here. Thank you.’’
‘‘Your watchdog hasn’t cleared me yet.’’
‘‘Is there any doubt?’’
He sighed. ‘‘Not a one. And I’m a dozen kinds of crazy for letting you move in, princess.’’
‘‘Will it be so awful?’’
His gaze settled on her face. She found herself studying his mouth and wishing it weren’t quite so intriguing.
‘‘Awful?’’ he asked. ‘‘No. It’s going to be worse.’’
* * *
At exactly seven that evening, as it did every Sunday night, the phone rang. Mitch picked it up on the first ring. ‘‘Hi, Mom, hi, Dad,’’ he said into the receiver.
‘‘Mitch!’’
His parents greeted him as they always did, their familiar voices bright with pleasure.
‘‘How are things up there?’’ Mitch asked as he leaned back in his favorite chair and closed his eyes.
He could picture his parents in their quarters in their bed-and-breakfast in the San Juan Islands in Washington state. They’d retired there about five years before with the intent of buying a small house and finally taking things easy. After six months they’d both been going crazy with boredom. As his mother put it, a body couldn’t spend a lifetime working from sunup until midnight and then just stop. So they’d purchased a small bed-and-breakfast, fixed it up and started catering to an upscale crowd. They both loved it.
‘‘We’re doing well. I have to tell you, though, some days I think cattle are a darn sight easier to deal with than people,’’ his father said.
His mother laughed. ‘‘He’s just annoyed because some of the guests wouldn’t go on his evening walk. You know how your father likes to collect everyone together, then herd them along the path by the cliffs.’’
‘‘The exercise makes them appreciate their dinners more. It’s healthy.’’
‘‘They’re on vacation, Bob. Let them rest.’’
It was a familiar argument. Enough of one that Mitch allowed himself to be distracted by faint noises coming from the back of the house. He hadn’t seen much of his guest since her security team had reluctantly cleared both him and his employees. They’d driven off only a short time ago, and that was after leaving him with pages of written instructions, phone numbers to call in case of emergency and a cell phone that connected automatically with the FBI.
He knew he was going to regret letting Princess Alexandra of Wynborough stay with him, and not just because she was going to be a pain in the butt. He was going to regret it because she was the first woman in a long time who tempted him. He couldn’t help staring at her body and wondering what it would feel like next to and under his. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and lick her and—
‘‘Mitch, are you listening?’’
His mother’s voice broke through his erotic daydream.
‘‘I’m here, Mom.’’
‘‘Is everything all right?’’
He’d decided not to mention his guest to his parents. His mom would get way too excited about royalty, and his dad would figure it was a cover for a hot romance and start talking about grandkids. ‘‘Everything’s fine. Have you heard from John?’’
There was a brief pause. He knew both his folks would be momentarily sad at the thought of their youngest son. They never understood his need to roam, although they respected it and always welcomed him home. ‘‘Not in a few weeks.’’
‘‘Me, either. I’ve just been thinking about him. If he calls you, will you ask him to phone me?’’
‘‘Of course, dear.’’
They chatted for a few more minutes, then Mitch heard the beep of his call-waiting. ‘‘I have another call.’’
‘‘Go ahead and take it,’’ his father said. ‘‘We were about to say goodbye. We love you, son.’’
‘‘I love you, too. Bye.’’ He pushed the Flash button and connected the waiting call. ‘‘Hello?’’
