Royal Opposites (3 page)

“Hello, Mother.” He watched Joan’s reaction and was a bit relieved when she seemed to relax again. He’d noticed how she’d tensed up before nodding her permission for him to answer the phone. “Tomas, where are you? Are you in the air, yet?” Tabitha Josephina du Bacoeur’s smooth contralto held the slightest tinge of expectancy that made him smile. She’d told him years ago he’d always be her little boy and she’d worry over him always. After being away from her for an entire year, he could imagine how excited she’d be to see him. He tried not to let on, but the feeling was mutual.

“I’m still in Santa Monica. I had some business to wrap up today.” He rubbed his temple when he remembered how well that wrapping up had gone. “I’ll be on the first British Air flight leaving in the morning.”

“Darling, if you fly commercial it’ll take you forever to get here. Why don’t I send the jet?”

“That’s quite tempting, Mother, but I have one final company to vet. I’ll be there soon.” He smiled at Joan signaling he hadn’t forgotten her.

His mother heaved a heavy sigh before saying, “Very well, my darling. If you must, you must.”

Tom frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me?

Some reason I should rethink my itinerary?”

His mother laughed, but he could tell it was forced. “Have you heard news of Marlachina?”

If he hadn’t been puzzled before, he was now. Was his mother trying to warn him that his nemesis had indeed gotten wind of his plans? No. That didn’t make sense. His mother had never believed how manipulative the younger woman could be.

“Now that you mention her, please give my regards to Marlachina.

You may let her know I’ll be home soon if you wish.”

He heard his mother’s relieved breath rush out of her lungs.

“I most certainly will.” Oh crap. That had been the wrong thing to say. His mother had made no secret of the fact that she’d like the two of them to marry. “And, Tomas, she has announced her engagement.”

Tom couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise under the lank of blond hair he’d have to cut once he was again on Rafferstonian soil. He shuddered to imagine what the poor bloke was in for once he said, “I do.”

“In that case, add to my message that I will be delighted to give her away.” His mother went silent. He gave her a moment to compose her thoughts before pressing the point home. “And, Mother, be certain to say ‘delighted’ when you speak with her. So there’s no misunderstanding.”

“Are you sure, Tomas? The wedding isn’t for another few weeks. You would have time to”—”

Tom smiled. “Excellent. That’s plenty of time for the tailors to prepare a new suit for the occasion. I love you.”

“I love you, too, my son.” She hung up the phone. Tom took his away from his ear and regarded it for a moment. So Marlachina was getting married. He hoped the nuptials would mellow her out a bit so she no longer had the time to meddle in the affairs of his state. Except, if she was busy planning a wedding, then who was behind the scene in the bank?

“Whoever this Marlachina is, I don’t think I’d want to be in her shoes. Judging by your expression, she isn’t that well liked.”

Joan’s observation startled him out of his disturbing thoughts. Tom tucked his phone away in his pocket. “If you were to look up royal pain in the neck, you’d behold her picture.”

“I’m sure she can’t be all bad.”

“Perhaps, but she’s trying quite hard to get there.” Suddenly restless, Tom slid out of the booth. He tossed several bills on the table he knew would more than cover their meal and give Molly a generous tip. Even though this was one of the businesses he expected to partner with once he returned home, this would be his last quiet meal here. It would never again be otherwise with the kind of entourage the king required.

Joan looked at the money then back at him. “Are you sure I don’t owe you anything?”

The question caught him off guard. Every woman he’d ever shared a meal with had expected him to pay, no questions asked.

Of course, they understood their dinner companion was the crown prince of Rafferstonia from the beginning. Since he’d kinda left all mentions of royalty out of their conversation, Joan didn’t have a clue. Tom smiled.

“Dinner is the least I can do. After all, you did”—”

“I did
not
save your life.” She interrupted. “At most, the guards would’ve tossed you out on your ear. Bruised your pride a little, maybe, but not kill you.” She slid out of the booth before he could offer her a hand up. When she stood he was fascinated to note that the top of her head reached his shoulders. Her personality made her seem so much bigger; he marveled her body could contain it all. “So please stop saying that,” she finished.

It took him a minute to remember what they’d been talking about. When his brain caught up, he gave her a small bow and said,

“Your wish is my command.”

Some more customers crowded into the restaurant with the pre-‐-dinner rush so Joan and Tom had to press their way outside.

On the sidewalk, she turned to him and said, “You still haven’t given me your e-‐-mail address so I can send this video to you.” She gestured with the camera case in her hand. She also had the strap around her wrist to lessen the chance of losing it and a canvas bag on her shoulder he hadn’t yet noticed.

“Let me see you to your door. Once you’re safely inside, I’ll let you know how to contact me.”

“That’s not necessary. I don’t live far.” She gestured in a vague direction away from the water.

“Perfect. Neither do I.”

****

Joan studied Tom’s earnest face. Letting a strange man walk her home wasn’t something she was accustom to doing. However, she’d enjoyed his company this afternoon, and if that phone call could be believed, he was leaving the country tomorrow. Couldn’t get any safer than that. If she were wrong about him, she still had some untried booby traps up her sleeves, leftover from when she lived in her last apartment complex with its smarmy owner.

“Suit yourself. It’s this way.” She set off to lead the way, but he fell in step beside her. Sometimes he’d pass her while they walked and talked and laughed. She upped the ante and passed him right back. It surprised her how comfortable she felt with the man. It was almost like they’d known one another forever.

“Man, you walk fast,” he panted and tried to keep up the breakneck pace at which they were walking.

Joan frowned, “Me? I’m trying to keep up with you.”

“Well, I’m trying to keep up with you.”

“Fine. We’ll both slow down.” The two slowed to a more reasonable pace. When they got to talking again, the pace sped back up.

“See? You’re the one walking fast,” Joan pointed out with a smirk. “I’m walking fast because you’re walking fast,” Tom retorted and slowed down.

“I’m walking fast because you’re walking fast,” Joan said with a grin. They tried to keep the pace slower, but ended up speed walking again the moment they stopped thinking about it. Before long, they were both laughing uncontrollably and trying to keep up with one another.

A bit winded, Joan pointed to her street. “I’m right over there.”

“Good. Because you’re wearing me out.”

“I’m wearing you out? You’re the one doing the Speedy Gonzales impression.”

They laughed halfway down her block and turned into the driveway. Joan stopped in her tracks once the large guesthouse she called home came into view. Her porch light was on. It was a rare occasion that she turned the thing on during the night and she never had it on during the day. Was someone in her apartment?

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Tom asked, watching her face.

Maybe she’d hit the switch on her way out the door. She gave Tom a smile. “Nothing, I…” She frowned when she saw something move past her window. “Someone’s inside my place.”

Tom’s head swiveled to look at the building. “What?”

“I just saw someone walk by the windows. I didn’t think I left that light on.”

“We have to call the police.” Tom pulled out his phone to dial. Before he could press the third number of 9-‐-1-‐-1, a man shoved her door open and stepped out on the porch. Joan’s jaw dropped when she recognized the man. It was the skinny guard who’d accosted them at the bank earlier.

It seemed he recognized them at the same moment.

“Hey!” He shouted and ran down the stairs after them.

Tom grabbed her hand pulled her along as he ran away from her apartment. Shell-‐-shocked, it was all Joan could do to keep up with him. What in the world was going on here? Why was the man in her home? How did he know where she lived? Granted, the bank would have her information on file, but they didn’t know her by face, did they?

While all those scary thoughts coursed through her mind, she paid no attention to which way they ran. She snapped out of it when Tom stopped in his tracks and looked back. There was no one chasing them so they slowed to a walk. An actual walk instead of their breakneck one before that had them giggling in fits. He pulled her into the shadows of a building and faced her. In the twilight, she could just make out the intensity in his gaze.

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Joan? Why would a bank guard break into your apartment?” All she could do was shake her head. Tom gave her shoulders a little shake. “Look at me, Joan. Do you have something they want?”

She shook her head again, and then stopped with a frown.

She raised her wrist with the camera strap around it. “Just you.”

“Me? You think that’s about me?”

“What else could it be? My life was in perfect order until you threw that temper tantrum in there.”

“In perfect order? Ha! You just got bilked out of sixteen thousand dollars. That’s not in perfect order.”

She shoved his shoulder, pushing him out of the way to straighten her spine. “Yeah, well, I was paying them until you came along and mucked everything up. They were finished with me.”

She glanced back the way they’d come. Her anger deflated and she fought tears. “Now they’re in my house.”

Tom hooked a finger under her chin and lifted so she’d look at him. “We’ll work this out. C’mon. My place is just ahead. We’ll call the police from there. After all, this is America, right? These people have no right to break into your home no matter what claim they think they have over you.”

Joan swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat.

She needed to buck up and fight. “You’re right.”

Tom gave her one of those devastating and handsome smiles that had her stomach doing flips in spite of the situation. “Come on.” He led her to a large house-‐-like building, which was an apartment complex in disguise. She followed him through the arched entrance into a well-‐-kept courtyard complete with a fountain at its center. They went inside the stucco building and up a couple short flights of stairs to the second floor. Tom readied his keys when they passed a couple doors in that section of the residence. Tom rounded a corner and stopped short.

“What’s wrong?” Joan asked, peering around his shoulder.

The door at the far end of the hall was open and gruff voices were spilling out. She got a bad feeling all of a sudden. “Tell me that’s not your place.”

“Oh how I wish I could.” He spared a glance at her before looking back at his open door. “I think it’s fairly safe to assume that I’m the cause of this mess after all. They wouldn’t be here, too, otherwise.”

She clutched at his arm. “Tom.” Both of them stared back at the open door. “We should go.”

Just then, the beefy guard from the bank stepped out the door and slammed his hand against the jamb. Joan flinched like he’d hit her instead of the building. Tom pulled her out of sight around the corner.

“I think our departure is a fabulous idea.” He laced his fingers through hers. “This way.”

Tom led them back the way they’d come, but took a detour at the first corner they’d turned. He went to the right instead of left which would have taken them back to the front entrance. He pushed open a door and led her down a few flights of stairs to the garage.

Joan was surprised when he inserted a key into the lock of an older model Acura CL. He held the door for her and she slid into the leather bucket seat. She leaned over and unlocked the driver’s door while he walked around the car. Joan couldn’t help but wonder who ordered an entire menu of food for one meal, but drove an old, inexpensive car? He didn’t seem too worried about money. That was the kind of attitude only people who had money ever had. His bank account had been cleaned out, but his sole response had been, ‘I have others’. Who was this guy? And how safe was she sticking with him?

“I say we go straight to the police,” Tom said the moment he eased his tall frame behind the wheel. Thoughts of safety went right out of her head. She couldn’t imagine he would take her to the police station if he had any nefarious plans in mind. She nodded her agreement and fastened her seat belt.

After buckling in, Tom eased from his parking space and headed for the exit. They were waiting for the automatic door to complete its incredibly slow journey up when the beefy guard plowed his way through the stairwell door. Joan’s jaw dropped open when their eyes met. He appeared shocked to see them.

“Go, go, go!” Joan demanded even while Tom spun to look at the guard. She didn’t have to tell him again. He jammed his foot on the accelerator and peeled out of the garage. He wheeled the car hard to the right sending them careening down the narrow, traffic-‐-

less street and pressed the button for the garage door.

Joan looked back just in time to see the guard jump out of the way of the descending door. The man ran for a car parked on the street and dove inside. “He’s chasing us.”

“You aren’t serious.” Tom checked the rearview. The guard’s car lurched away from the curb in hot pursuit. “Hold on!”

He whipped the steering wheel hard to the right sending them careening around the corner. He did the same at the next intersection ignoring the stop sign on the corner. Joan braced herself against the door. Once steady, she watched out the rear window. Headlights bobbed after them.

“He’s still there.”

“I see him.” Tom pressed hard on the accelerator. They flew up the narrow street lined with parked cars on both sides. Joan prayed no one would come from the opposite direction. It was a tight fit on a good day. This day would make it impossible. She checked out the back again.