Some Like It Deadly (11 page)

I’m already compromised...

* * *

Saturday morning dawned far too early, but her shoulder’s brutal ache dragged her out of sleep. Breathing through the throb, she took her time stretching each of her muscles. Richard had set her prescription bottles on the table next to the guest bed and, though he’d lingered, she’d managed to shoo him out of the room so she could get some sleep.

But the reluctance to send him away had become a palpable cramp in her stomach. Easing up, she flexed her right arm and damn if the bruised tissue didn’t hurt worse than it had the day before. Adrenaline and shock were distant memories—stiffness was her worst enemy. Swinging her legs over, she bit down on a groan as pain stretched fire across her too tight muscles and skin.

A one-two knock announced Richard before he opened the door. “Hey, I was just coming by to see if you were awake and wanted some coffee.” He’d crossed from the door to the bed and crouched in front of her in the time it took her to blow out a long hard breath. “You’re hurting.”

“It’s a little sore,” she admitted, but she kept flexing her hand, slowly and forcing the muscles to stretch a bit more each time. She couldn’t afford to be too stiff and unfortunately, the best medicine was movement—no matter how unpleasant.

“You didn’t take the pills the doctor gave you, did you?” Exasperation rode his words.

“No.” She focused on him, dressed casually in a T-shirt and shorts. His attorney façade was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was treated to long, lean muscles and dark, tanned skin with the lightest sprinkle of crisp hairs decorating his arms and down his legs. His very male presence definitely upset the equilibrium she struggled to maintain. “I don’t like to be muddle headed.”

Rather than chastise her, he rubbed his palm along her leg. She’d slept in a tank top and shorts and she’d never been so aware of the thinness of the cotton before. “How about I cut them in half? You can take smaller doses and gauge how foggy they make you feel?” Her surprise at the offer must have shown, because he gave her leg a gentle squeeze. “Worst part of my recovery? The pain meds. Made it hard to think, but pain makes it hard to think too. So I found that if I lowered the doses some, it helped alleviate the pain and I didn’t feel like I’d come down with a case of stupid.”

The corners of her mouth curved. Richard would not like to have his brain impaired. He may have made for a cute drunk, but she’d never doubted his mental acumen, not even then. Both alcohol and pain medication dulled reactions, but if her current struggle was any indicator, her reactions were already suffering. “Okay,” she agreed. “Half the dose.”

“Good girl.” He patted her leg and her skin continued to tingle from his touch as he shifted to open the bottle and look at the prescription advice. Fortunately, they’d given her tablets. “I’ll go cut these in half and get you some coffee.”

“I can come down.” Her synapses continued to fire in short, heady little bursts from his nearness and she curled her fingers into her palm to keep from testing the softness of the hair on his forearm. “You’re all dressed.” More than that, he had on shoes and a hint of aftershave.

“Woke up early,” he admitted. “And I checked in on you, but—” he held up a hand when she raised her brows, “—I stayed by the door. Once I was up, I was up. Need a hand getting dressed?”

Ignoring the playful leer, she shook her head. “I can do it. What I’d really like is a shower, but they said twenty-four hours until I can change the bandage.”

He leaned in and his breath tickled the side of her neck as he inhaled deeply. The sudden nearness and intimacy sent a pulse of need arcing from her breasts to her toes and back to pool in her middle. Strong, clean, masculine earthiness filled her nostrils and she wanted to drown in it.
I
am so screwed.

Drawing back, he gave her a lazy grin. “You smell sweet to me, so your shower can wait.” The knowing look in his eyes said he hadn’t missed an ounce of her reaction. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

She didn’t move until the door clicked shut behind him. Glancing down, she stared at the hard points of her nipples clearly outlined by her thin tank top. “Sports bra,” she muttered. “I need to sleep in one here.”

Five minutes later, she changed her mind—the bra strap cut right across the slice on her shoulder and increased the pressure. Swearing, she rummaged around in her duffel until she found another tank top and layered the two. It wasn’t much, but fortunately she’d never been gifted in the boob department.

Trading her sleep shorts for a pair of capris, she skipped shoes altogether. The last thing she wanted to ask Richard for was helping her tie the damn things. Cradling her arm to her chest, she paused in the bathroom to run a comb through her hair. Braiding it was out of the question and when she tried to lift her bad arm to put it in a ponytail, black spots danced in front of her eyes.

Leaving it down sent the wrong message, but her abdomen clenched in anticipation of his reaction. He’d been totally ignoring everything else in their contract save for the first part—
Richard must be impossible.
Tossing the comb down, she brushed her teeth and made a cursory wash of her face.

As promised, Richard waited in the hall. They went down together and she found a wide variety of donuts, muffins, bagels and fresh fruit along with coffee waiting in the kitchen. Eyeing the plethora of food, she chuckled.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a little of everything,” he admitted.

“And assumed that I can eat enough for a football team?” But she picked out a blackberry muffin and bit into it. It was still warm and tasted a little like heaven. Swallowing the bite, she eyed him. “You didn’t go out and get these did you?”

“No, I sent one of Armand’s goon squad to pick them up.” He poured her a cup of coffee and slid the mug over before pulling out a cutting board and going to work on her pills.

“Richard?” They needed to address his attitude about security. “They’re not bad guys. They just want to keep you safe.”

He set one of the half pills on her plate and added the antibiotics next to it. “Individually, I’m sure they’re fine. That said, I don’t like being watched or under twenty-four hour observation. They check out anyone who walks up to me, they know every detail of my day, and I can’t breathe without them dogging every step. There’s safe and there is living in a bubble.” Irritation grated under his words and bitterness twisted his lips. “I had enough of that when the FBI watched us for three years, and interrogated everyone from my teachers to my friends to my neighbors.”

“That had to suck,” she said quietly and tried to ignore the guilt curdling in her stomach.

“More than I care to admit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think that was actually the hardest part of my friendship with Armand to swallow.”

“His security?”

“No. The lies about his security then, later, his security.” Her heart stopped on the word
lies
, but she bit into the muffin and waited. Richard had walked over to the sink to wash off his knife and look out the window. “Do you know how I met him?”

She knew some of it. “In college. I thought around the same time he met Anna.” Finishing the muffin, she washed down the last bite with a swallow of coffee.

“Take your pills. We’ll go sit out by the pool and I’ll tell you a story.” A smile eased the fresh tension in his expression. “One very few people have ever heard.”

“That sounds a little personal,” she murmured.
Too personal.

“But that’s what this weekend is about.” He loaded up a plate with another selection of muffins, including two of the blackberry she’d eaten. When he stared at the pills on her plate, she sighed and popped both into her mouth.

“Have
you
taken your meds?” she countered.

“Yes, ma’am, before you got up. Now, grab your cup.” He winked and added a carafe of the coffee to the tray he made up and his own coffee cup. Once poolside, the early morning breeze carrying the scent of the sea wrapped around them. She had to admit it was a lot nicer in the sun and stretched her legs out comfortably. Richard offered her sunglasses and she slid them on.

“You’re spoiling me,” she accused lightly. She needed to remember that this couldn’t last. To not get attached.
Yeah
,
right.

“I like spoiling you.” He took a seat on the lounger opposite hers and freshened up the coffee cups. “So, Armand and I met during our freshmen year. We were actually assigned to be roommates.”

Curious in spite of herself, she asked the first question that came to mind. “As a prince, I would have thought his security wouldn’t want him sharing his room with a total stranger.”

“He wasn’t acting as a prince then, not yet. Armand told me later that his goal had been to have a
real
college experience—a real American one, anyway. Roommates were part of the package and most freshmen shared their dorm with three other guys. Somehow I thought I’d lucked out to split a room with only one. I found out later his guys were stationed in the room across from ours and the ones on either side. A detail of eight, I think he had. Two others roamed in and out, but the other six maintained pretty constantly—enrolled in classes and pretty much acting like other students.”

“So you had no idea.” That, she’d been well aware, had been the major bone of contention between the grand duke and his fiancée. Anna hadn’t known about his royal heritage and when she did find out—
years
into their relationship—the lack of honesty split them up.

An ugly warning about paralleling that situation if ever there was one.

“None.” He speared a strawberry and held it out to her. “Someone said these were her favorites.”

Accepting the strawberry, she matched his grin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His gaze lingered on her mouth as she took a bite. It was the perfect mixture of sweet and tart and she couldn’t help a little sigh. “And now I need to order you boxes more.”

“Later.” She accepted the offer graciously enough. “You were saying about the grand duke?”

“Call him Armand, at least between you and me.” Richard picked up another muffin. “Because that’s who he is. Anyway, that first couple of semesters he was a decent enough guy. Didn’t make a big mess, pretty generous with the pizza, and he could always get beer—even if he preferred the snooty European brands.” He broke the blueberry muffin in half and spread a little bit of butter on it. “We did well. He didn’t party late and he never had a problem if I brought a girl back. I always returned the favor if he wanted to sneak Anna in.”

Pausing, he considered the muffin and his grin turned self-deprecating. “Of course, I was a monk and only said I was sneaking a girl in if I needed to study.” He dared a look at her as if to see if she bought it.

Amusement bubbled up through her and she laughed. “Of course you did.”

“Good girl.” He winked. “So we go through our freshmen year, just a couple of average guys, struggling with the course load, making friends, and you know...having that American dream.” But his amusement sobered. “For me, it was a bit of a dream. I was a scholarship kid and what the scholarship didn’t pay for, I took part time jobs to cover. I’d worked every summer I was in high school and saved up the money. Mom wouldn’t have been able to afford it and I knew she had Barbara to worry about. Armand was loaded, but he never let on. He paid for more than his part, but he seemed normal—accent and all.”

He finished the muffin and then used a napkin to wipe his hands. When he glanced at her coffee cup, she shook her head. The pain medication eased the constant throb beating in her shoulder in time to her pulse and the sun warmed her legs. Curling on her good side, she watched him. “So when did he tell you?”

“Right after our last final for the semester.” Leaning toward her, he rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his coffee cup. “Anna had a different schedule, but Armand and I had planned to hang out, grab a movie or something while he waited for her to finish. Instead, he brought a six pack and we found a quiet corner of the quad and he told me who he was.”

“Was that weird for you?” She wanted to reach over and brush that lock of hair off his forehead again. To kiss away the tight lines from the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah. At first I thought he was just messing with me, but he gave me proof and while I sat there digesting that I, the scholarship kid and son of a felon, had just spent my entire first year in college rooming with a prince, he asked me for my advice.” Richard shook his head and she could hear the notes of disbelief that harkened back to that long ago conversation. “He wanted to tell Anna, but he wasn’t sure what she would do.

“I told him that everyone deserves the truth, but if he didn’t think she could handle it—and if he wasn’t prepared to lose her when she didn’t—then maybe he shouldn’t.” The advice pinged against her heart.
Can you handle the truth of why I came to work for you?
“Not my finest hour and Armand was worried that knowing who he really was would change their relationship. He worried it would change ours too. As it turned out, title or not, he really was the same guy.”

“I guess that’s why you two have stayed best friends.” It made sense—she’d seen the two men together. They communicated on a variety of levels and with a familiarity that bridged any social distinction.

“Mostly. Don’t get me wrong, he can be a dick. Especially if he doesn’t get his way. Man is a control freak, but he grew up in a world that demanded it of him. College was the one time I really saw him let go. After his father died and Anna left him, he was a different for too long.” He sighed. “And while I want to kick his ass from here to next week for that security crap, I get why he does it.”

“Easier to ask for forgiveness than seek permission?” She floated, a misty fine curtain draped over her. A half pill was way too much, but she was too relaxed to care.

“Something like that.” He tipped his head. “You’re slurring a little, you okay?”

“Sh-tupid pills.” It sounded funny and she grinned. “Why don’t you like his security?”