A Princess Next Door (Rothman Royals Book 1) (2 page)

My mood took a sudden upward lift. I gave him a little
smile. “It is kind of depressing.”

“Then come on over. Just friendly. I promise I won’t make a
move on you or anything obnoxious.”

I might have giggled. Just a little. The truth was I
wouldn’t be entirely opposed to his making a move on me, especially now when my
defenses were low. “Okay,” I said at last, not able to stand the thought of the
empty, damaged apartment this evening. “Thanks.”

Jack looked pleased—and maybe a little surprised—and we both
went over to his place next door.

I’d changed clothes and was wearing a pair of black leggings
and a long, soft top in a pretty shade of pink. My mother would be horrified if
she knew I was in “mixed company” in such an outfit, but I didn’t think I
looked too bad.

And it wasn’t like Jack was any more dressed up than me.

The pizza had evidently just arrived, since the box was
sitting unopened on his kitchen counter. He grabbed two beers from the
refrigerator as we entered and waved me over toward the couch.

His apartment had almost the exact same layout as mine, but
his was sparsely decorated. The living area consisted of a recliner, a couch,
and a television. The leather couch was obviously good quality, though, and the
high-end entertainment system must have been expensive.

Jack might not be much of a decorator, but he obviously
wasn’t hurting for money.

He’d brought the pizza, plates, and napkins over with the
beers, and he sat down next to me on the couch. He opened the box, handed me a
plate, and told me to help myself.

“It’s greasy,” I said, as I tried to separate a piece from
the others.

“That’s what makes it good.”

I’d had pizza before—mostly since I’d been in the States—but
what I’d had before wasn’t as thin and greasy as this. I had a little trouble
maneuvering the piece to my mouth so I could take a bite. When I felt grease on
my chin, I dabbed at it with my napkin. After a couple of bites, I got the hang
of it, pleased when I could manage a bite without making a mess.

I’d been taught manners and etiquette since I was five, but
none of those lessons really covered this.

I’d been so focused on eating that I didn’t immediately
realize that Jack was watching me.

“What?” I demanded, when I finally felt his eyes on my face.

“You really are a princess, aren’t you?”

I gasped. How could he possibly have known? “Wh—what?”

He was grinning as he wiped his mouth haphazardly with the
back of his hand. “I’ve never seen anyone eat Mike’s pizza as neatly as you.”

I almost slumped in relief when I realized it was just a
figure of speech. He didn’t know I was actually a princess. He was just calling
me that for fun. “What’s wrong with being neat?”

“Nothing.” His brown eyes had changed, igniting with a hot
expression that was unmistakable. “I like it.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t help but wonder what
that voice, those eyes, those hands would feel like in bed with me.

I brushed the thoughts away and straightened up. “You could
use a napkin yourself, if you want to know the truth.”

He chuckled and picked his up from where it was lying on the
couch beside him. “So how old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

He looked relieved, and I decided he’d probably been worried
I was a lot younger.

“And how old are you?” I added.

“Thirty-three.” He glanced over to check my expression. “Too
old for you?”

“Of course not.” Edward Farmingham Channing IV was
thirty-four, so Jack’s age felt perfectly normal to me. I could hardly tell him
that, however. So I said a little tartly, “I have no qualifications for the age
of my neighbors.”

This must have surprised Jack because he choked on a laugh.
“Good to know. So why didn’t your mom want you to go to college?”

I hadn’t been expecting the question, and I was still
distracted by that warm look in his eyes. So I answered without thinking. “It
wasn’t college itself. She didn’t want me to leave home.”

“Why not?”

I gave a little shrug. “Family responsibilities.”

“Seriously?”

I understood that most Americans didn’t understand the
pressures and expectations that came with being royal or being a Rothman, so I
wasn’t surprised or offended by his skepticism. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I understand family pressures.”

“You do?”

“Sure. Ever since I was born, it was understood that I’d
take over my parents’ company. My dad built the business from the ground up,
starting with a little sporting goods store in a small town. He poured his life
into it, and they both always assumed I’d take over when he died. I mean, they
never even asked me if I wanted to.”

“Didn’t you want to?”

“Sure, I did, but the expectation did limit my options. It
would have been really hard if I’d wanted to do something else.”

I studied his face, suddenly seeing him as more than a sexy
man and my neighbor. I was starting to think and wonder about him as a whole
person. “What else might you have wanted to do?”

“I was pretty good at football. But not good enough to do
anything with it professionally. I think running the company is probably what I
would have chosen, even if I had a choice.”

“That’s good, then. That worked out nicely.”

“Yeah. I think it did. What about you? What would you do if
you could choose anything in the world?”

No one had ever asked me that before, so I thought about it
for a moment. “I’d go to graduate school in art history and then maybe work in
a museum or something.”

“I can see that.” He’d finished his second piece of pizza
and was obviously taking a break. He leaned back against the couch, gazing at
me with interest.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it sounds about right for you. Smart and high
falutin.”

“High-falutin?”

“It means—”

“I know what it means. Do I truly come off as a snob like
that?” I could see where the impression might come from, given the way I was
raised, but I didn’t like the idea at all. I’d tried so hard for the last few
years to fit in with everyone else.

“No,” he said quickly. “Not at all. It’s just that there’s
something…I don’t know…delicate and untouchable about you.”

I frowned. “I don’t think I’m untouchable.”

He was still gazing at me, and his eyes had taken on that hot
look again. It was like he was touching me. Right now. With nothing but that
gaze.

I couldn’t look away from him.

“Really?” His voice had gotten a little softer, a little
rougher.

“Truly,” I replied, surprised when my voice came out as much
thicker than it should have been. “I’m not untouchable.”

“Good.” He reached over toward me and gently stroked my
cheek with his knuckles, the touch light, barely glancing over my skin. “I’m
glad to hear it.”

I felt myself leaning toward him as excitement and pleasure rushed
through me. I couldn’t remember anything feeling as good as that little touch
of his hand did.

I wanted even more.

Who knew what would have happened if my phone hadn’t rung
just then?

I blinked and jerked at the interruption, and then lifted my
phone to see that my mother was calling.

Of course it was my mother. She’d always had this knack for
knowing exactly when her daughters might leaning toward something
inappropriate.

Like kissing a sexy American with whom she could never have
a future.

I sighed, giving up the fantasy of indulging in a little
fling, just because I wanted to. “It’s my mother. I better get it.”

“Sure.” He smiled, although he looked faintly disappointed
himself.

I connected the call, hoping my mother wasn’t going to be
too annoying or intrusive.

After a token greeting, my mother got right to the point. “It’s
time to make plans for moving back home.” She’d been born in London and had
moved to Villemont as a teenager, and she spoke with a clipped, posh accent.
Because of her, we’d always spoken English in the family.

I sighed, although I’d been expecting this conversation long
ago. “I still have more than a month until graduation.”

“I understand. But we can’t waste any more time. Edward is
not going to wait forever.”

“Mother,” I said, swallowing over my rising frustration.
“I’ve told you a hundred times that I don’t want…that.” I changed my original
wording because I didn’t want Jack to hear that my mother was trying to get me
to marry someone I didn’t want.

That wasn’t at all common practice among regular people. He
would think my family was bizarre.

“The marriage has been understood for years.”

“I don’t care if it’s been understood. I’m not having this
argument again.”

“But we need the money, Amalie. You know we do.”

I did know that. Our financial situation was a constant
source of stress for my mother, even though she was the one who spent most of
the money, far more than was reasonable, given the money we had coming in.

“You’ve had your fun,” my mother continued. “And we indulged
it. But it’s time for you to come home and do your duty to your family. I’ll
talk to your father, and he’ll have Francis Georgeson make the arrangements for
your move home.”

Francis Georgeson was the family’s long time administrator.
He’d taken care of the day-to-day logistics of the household for as long as I
could remember.

I opened my mouth to object again, but she’d already hung
up.

I ended the call, slumping back and feeling depressed again.

I loved my family. I always had and always would. But I
hated the fact that my life had been planned out for me since I was a baby,
thanks to that stupid crown on my head.

“That didn’t sound good,” Jack murmured. He’d almost
finished another piece of pizza.

“It was just…my mother. Nagging me about coming home.”

“You said you were from France?”

“Uh, yeah, right between France and Switzerland, in the
Alps.”

“Do people always stay home where you’re from and do what
their parents want?”

I could tell the idea sounded strange to him. I shrugged. “I
guess so.”

“And you can’t do art history there?”

“I could try, but I’d probably end up getting pulled
into…other things.” My mother would have me lined up for a dozen diplomatic or
courtly duties a week, if I were living at home. Not to mention the eligible
bachelors I’d have to dodge.

“Like what?”

I started to reply, but then stopped myself. No matter how
much I liked Jack, no matter how much it felt like he wanted to know me better
and understand what I was going through, I just couldn’t tell him about an
arranged marriage or royal duties. It was simply too far away from the world he
knew. He might not even believe me. “I…it’s hard to explain.”

He evidently accepted that I wasn’t ready to give him
details. “I know I don’t have the full story, but it seems like you should do
what’s right for you.”

I smiled at him. “I wish it were as simple as that.”

“Maybe it is.”

I knew it wasn’t, but it was a nice thought. I reached over
to pat his forearm, stopping myself before I started to stroke up the hard line
of his big arm.

“Anyway,” he said, after clearing his throat. “I’d like
to…get to know you better. If you haven’t figured that out already.”

I wanted to get to know him too. “I have to leave in five
weeks. There’s not any…future here.”

“There doesn’t need to be one. We could just hang out. No
expectations or pressure from me. It sounds like you have enough of those in
your life already.”

“Truly?” I peered at his face and saw nothing but interest
and sincerity there.

As strange as it sounded, it seemed like this man just
wanted to get to know me without expecting anything in return.

“Yeah,” he said with a little smile. “I’ve never met anyone
like you, and I don’t want to miss my chance.”

I smiled back at him. I couldn’t help it. I’d never met
anyone like him either.

“Plus,” he added with an irrepressible smirk. “You’re
incredibly hot.”

Three weeks later, I was knocking on
Jack’s door at six o’clock on a Friday evening.

I heard a muffled voice from inside the apartment. I
couldn’t hear what it was saying, but I tried the doorknob and found it was
opened, so I let myself in.

Jack wasn’t always as vigilant as he should have been about
locking his door.

“Jack?” I called out, when I saw the kitchen and living
areas were empty.

“In here.” After a moment, his bedroom door swung open, and he
appeared in the hall wearing a gray T-shirt and workout shorts. “I was changing
clothes.”

“I figure.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Figured.”

“Excuse me?”

“The expression is, ‘I figured.’”

“But I was figuring right now. Shouldn’t it be present tense?”

“Well, right now you can
see
that I was changing
clothes, so you don’t need to figure anything. Before I opened the door, that
was when you were figuring. So you say ‘I figured.’”

I thought this through and nodded when I decided it made
sense. I narrowed my eyes at him when I saw that Jack’s expression appeared to
be laughing at me. “You shouldn’t mock me.”

His amused gaze transformed into warm chuckles. “No mockery.
Just help with American expressions.”

“Your help is difficult to distinguish from mocking me.”

He stepped closer to me, tilting his head down as he held my
gaze. “You must be mistaken. I wouldn’t dream of mocking you.”

“I don’t think you would dream of it. I think you would
do
it.”

He laughed again and gave me a one-armed hug, and I couldn’t
help but smile in response. I’d never been genuinely offended by his amusement,
and now his fondness was so evident that I felt like I might melt in response.

I couldn’t remember anyone but my brother who would laugh at
me that way and still obviously care about me so much.

I finally looked away from him—to keep myself from doing
something I definitely shouldn’t do—and noticed an enormous basket on his
table. “What is this?”

“Oh. That. Someone sent it to me.”

My eyes widened as I realized the basket was full of
mini-muffins of different variety and was decorated with cellophane and
ribbons. “Who sent this to you?”

“Oh, some woman.”

I gasped. “You must have had a very good date.”

I didn’t like the idea of his going out on such a good date.
At all. In the past few weeks, he hadn’t seemed to go out very much, but I
didn’t keep track of all his comings and goings, so it was certainly possible
that I missed something.

If the woman had responded with this huge basket, it must
have been a mind-blowing date.

Jack shouldn’t be blowing any other woman’s mind. The idea
made me very unhappy.

“It wasn’t a date,” Jack replied, looking rather
self-conscious. “It was someone I’ve been doing some business with. I guess
it’s just a gesture of thanks. It’s a little odd, but I do sometimes get things
like this.”

Relieved at his mood and at his obvious disinterest in whomever
the woman was, I plucked the card from the basket and opened it, deciding he
would stop me if he didn’t want me to read it.

Jack didn’t stop me, so I read,
Thanks for everything. I
look forward to a richly rewarding relationship
.

I stiffened my shoulders and met his eyes. “This woman is
definitely interested in you.”

“It’s just a business relationship.”

“Not to her. You must believe me. This woman wants far more
than business from you.” I scowled slightly at the thought.

He chuckled again and took the card from my hand. “You don’t
look very happy about that. Maybe she would be a good match for me.”

“Maybe,” I said, rather primly, since I was trying to hide
how bothered I was by this whole discussion. “You’ll have to decide that. It’s
not my concern.”

“It looks like you’re concerned about it.” He reached up to
brush my hair back from my face, the light touch making me shiver.

“I’m not concerned. You can date and marry and have babies
with your muffin-lady, if that’s what you want.”

His eyes held mine, and his expression softened and heated
up at the same time. “You said you didn’t want to go out with me, so all I’m
left with is my muffin-lady.”

That wasn’t exactly what I’d said. I’d said there could be
no future since I was moving home right after graduation. “You are left with
any woman you want.”

“Except you.”

“Ex-cept....” I could barely get the word out since my mind
was whirling with feeling and excitement. It looked and felt like Jack would
kiss me, and I wanted it more than anything. We’d been friendly for the past
three weeks—hanging out several times a week and talking nearly every day. But
he hadn’t been flirtatious like this, and now he was almost irresistible.

He cupped my cheek. “Except you.”

I tried the words again. “Except…me.” I cleared my throat.
“I have to move in fifteen days.”

Jack let out a long breath and dropped his hand. His
expression hadn’t changed very much, but something about him felt almost
deflated. “I know you do.”

I’d been dreading the move back home more than ever, and now
I suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of my life without Jack in it. Even if
nothing ever happened between us, I felt closer to Jack than I’d ever felt to
anyone but my family.

I would miss him. So much I could feel pain rising in my
chest.

Trying to distract myself, I said, “So you should ask out
your muffin-lady. She obviously wants more than business.”

Jack shook his head. “She can want all she wants. All I’m
offering is business.”

It was wrong to be so pleased by this response—I should want
him to be happy in a relationship when I went back home—but I
was
pleased. Very, very pleased.

I didn’t want him with the muffin-lady. Or any other lady,
for that matter.

“So what will you do with all these muffins? They will be
stale before you can eat them all.”

“I know.” Jack appeared to pull himself back to his normal
casual demeanor and walked over to the table to stare at the enormous basket.
“I usually just bring extra stuff like this to the office and let people take
what they want. I guess the muffins will still be fresh on Monday.”

I frowned. “Maybe. Or you could make up little baskets and
give them to people in the building.”

“What people?”

“What about Ralph and Mark?” I suggested, referring to the
daytime and nighttime doormen in our apartment building. “They both have
families who I’m sure would enjoy the muffins. And what about Sheila, the
housekeeper? She has six children. Did you know that? And what about Mrs. Daily
who lives on the other side of me. She’s all alone and would appreciate the
gesture. Her son never comes to visit her, although he lives only a few miles
away.”

I was about to go on with some other people who might like
the muffins when I saw Jack’s expression and trailed off. “Why do you look at
me that way?” I dropped my eyes since his expression was filled with something
almost like awe.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured thickly. “Do you know that?”

I could feel my cheeks flushing, but I tried to respond
naturally. “I’m not amazing. I was just thinking of people who might like the
muffins.”

“You
are
amazing. And your idea is great. If you can
help me divide them out, we can give them out. No use in letting them get
stale.”

Relieved that the tension had shifted into something
practical to do, I lost no time in opening up the wrapping and dividing out the
muffins into several groups of twenty-four each. Then, thinking through the
options, I pulled the cellophane off the basket and laid it out so I could cut
it into smaller squares, which I used to wrap up the muffins, tying them off
with pieces of ribbon I trimmed from the large bow on top of the basket.

“There,” I said. “They look very cute, don’t they?”

Jack had been watching me and helping when I asked him to,
and now he was smiling and shaking his head as he gazed down at the little
packages. “Amazing.”

I wasn’t sure whether he was talking about the packages or
about me, but either one made me feel good. I was flushed and smiling as I
picked up the last of the trash and threw it away.

“You’re going to come with me to pass these out, aren’t
you?” Jack asked. “I can’t carry them all.”

There was no good reason for me to object, so we made a
circuit around the building, passing out the packages and reserving one for
when Mark’s shift began in a couple of hours. We didn’t stay long to talk to
anyone, but everyone was pleased and surprised and gratified by the gesture,
and I couldn’t help but like how they seemed to assume that Jack and I were
together
.

It wasn’t a feeling I was used to—being paired up with a
really good guy in the eyes of other people—and it was something I could easily
become accustomed to.

When we returned to Jack’s apartment, I told myself it was
time to go back to my own place. I was feeling far too fond of him, attracted
to him at the moment, and I wasn’t sure what might happen when I was in this
mood.

“Do you want to work out with me this evening?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Hmm. That wasn’t what I was supposed to have said.

But I felt no regrets at all as I hurried back to change
clothes and then met him in the hallway. There was a very nice workout room on
the floor below us, so we went downstairs. I was pleased to see that no one
else was in the room when we walked in.

We’d worked out together quite often. Jack liked to work out
most evenings, and I could use the exercise too—although I wasn’t as inclined
in that direction as he was.

It was always a practice in discipline for me to work out
with him, though. Not because of the exercise. I’d grown up dancing ballet and
jousting, so I was in decent shape. The discipline came in not staring
lustfully at Jack’s body the entire time.

He had a very good body. I was more aware of it now than I’d
been three weeks ago. I loved the breadth of his shoulders, the smooth line of
his back beneath his shirt, the rippling contours of his arms, the strength of
his legs, the flatness of his abdomen. I even loved the hair on his arms and
legs and how sweaty he got when he worked out. It made him seem more real, like
he wasn’t just a vision from my fantasies but a living, breathing human man.

So while I tried to focus on the elliptical trainer, I
mostly just thought about him.

We worked out for an hour, talking about his day at work and
about a special seminar in Renaissance art my professor had told me about this
morning.

“It’s just two weeks long,” I explained. “It starts a week
after graduation, and it’s very intensive, lasting for most of every day.”

“It sounds terrible to me, but I bet it would be right up
your alley.”

“Yes. I’d love to attend. It’s by invitation only, and
mostly graduate students participate, so it’s a real honor that he invited me.”

“So you should do it.”

“I’m supposed to move back home right after graduation.”

“But the seminar is just two weeks, right? All you’ve got to
do is delay your move by three weeks.”

“It’s not as easy as that. All the plans have been made.” I
felt depressed, thinking about it. “My mother has organized a ball in my honor
the week after graduation. Hundreds of people are invited. I have to be there.”

“A ball?” Jack’s eyebrows were sky high.

I realized my mistake immediately. “Oh. Yes. It’s what she
calls her fancy parties.”

Jack wiped some sweat from his forehead. “Well, then go
visit them for that week after graduation and then come back here for the two
weeks of the seminar. It could still work.”

My heart jumped in excitement when I heard the suggestion,
but my mind soon caught up with the hope. “It wouldn’t be worth it. All that
hassle and travel just for a two-week seminar. Since I’m not going to graduate
school, I couldn’t do anything with the credit anyway.”

“I think you could. I think you should do it. Think about it
anyway.”

“Okay. I will.” I mostly said it to end the subject, since
it was making me anxious and upset. Jack always made decisions seem so simple,
but anything involving my family could never be simple.

We talked less as we started to exert more effort. When I
was worn out, I got off the machine and wiped my face and arms with a clean
towel, telling myself not to leer at Jack who was cooling down on the
treadmill.

“Ugh,” he said, when he finally got off and grabbed a towel.

“What? Did you exercise too hard?”

“No. I was actually just remembering tomorrow night.”

“What about tomorrow night.”

“I have to go to this stupid banquet.”

“What banquet?”

“It’s a work thing.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I hate formal shit like that. I avoid it as much as I can.
But I really can’t get out of this one.”

“I’m sure it won’t be too painful.”

“I’m sure it
will
be. I don’t even have anything to
wear.”

“Do you need to wear a tuxedo?”

“God, I hope not. I don’t think it’s black-tie or anything.”

“So just wear a dark suit.”

“All I have is a gray one that I’ve worn about a hundred
times.”

“You only have one suit?” I stared at him in amazement. He
always dressed casually for work, but his comment was astounding to a girl who
owned about four dozen evening gowns.

“I think I might have an old one I used to wear to church
with my mom, but it’s at her house in my hometown, and it never did fit very
well.”

“What do you wear to weddings?”

“I don’t go to weddings if I can help it.” He smiled
sheepishly and wiped more sweat from his face. “So now you see why I’m dreading
the banquet so much.”