The Surprise Princess

Copyright Patricia McLinn

ISBN 993259221

www.PatriciaMcLinn.com

Dear Readers: If you encounter typos or errors in this book, please send them to me at:

[email protected].

Even with many layers of editing, mistakes can slip through, alas. But, together, we can eradicate the nasty nuisances. Thank you! - Patricia McLinn

ASHTON, WISCONSI
N

K
atie Davis stared into the old suitcase that her father had never known her mother kept hidden in this attic niche.

Her mother had spanked her for trying to open it. She had never tried again. At first for fear of another spanking from the woman who never before had raised a hand to her. Later because Katie had recognized her mother’s reaction as deep fear.

At times she’d wondered why Anna didn’t throw out the suitcase if it frightened her so much. But there had never been that kind of communication between them.

Her mother was gone now, eight years ago when Katie was in college. Her father had died when she was a child.

And here she sat in the attic, looking into the suitcase. Driven by a magazine article about a young woman who looked so much like her, right down to having a left little finger as long as her ring finger. The Bariavak Hand, the article called it.

The magazine said the king of Bariavak had been struck by the resemblance of this young woman to his daughter at the same age. They had formed a bond and shared the holidays. The king was going to walk the commoner down the aisle when she married.

But then the article-writer added a final paragraph:

King Jozef still searches for his lost granddaughter. And somewhere out there could be a young woman who doesn’t know she has a grandfather and a kingdom.

Why that had driven her to the attic Katie was not prepared to examine.

Better, far better, to explore the suitcase’s contents.

At first she saw only yellowed, tattered paper. But as she lifted the paper out she saw it had been protecting other items.

She found a piece of embroidered fabric first. Her heart raced as she examined it, but it gave no answers, only raised more questions.

She set it aside to draw out documents.

And realized that what Anna Davis had feared from the past had just become what Katie Davis needed to fear in the future.

“K
atie!”

She stopped at the familiar voice behind her, but didn’t turn. Looking at Brad Spencer was a luxury not to be indulged too frequently. Like with a rich dessert, limit the portions or pay the consequences.

She heard him jogging up the path from Ashton University’s main campus to the Sports Center, which sat astride a small ridge. The sun had melted most of the snow deposited earlier by a brief, spirited squall. But that was a small victory considering snow piles edged the paths in lumps and ice held Lake Ashton tight.

“I was looking for you.” Brad was not the least bit winded.

To save time, she said, “Your expense report’s been submitted.”

As executive assistant to Ashton’s head basketball coach, Katie wasn’t expected to submit expense reports for the assistant coaches and she didn’t for the other assistants. But if she didn’t for Brad, he’d never get them in, the budget would always be out of sync, and she’d take the heat from the financial people. That’s what she told herself.

“That’s not why I was looking for you. Though, thanks.” She didn’t need to look at him to know he was grinning. “Got a couple trips to Chicago coming up and I won’t mind the money.”

“You won’t have it for at least two weeks.”

“That’s okay.” Brad put a hand on her arm. She stuttered a step. He didn’t notice. Thank heavens. “Reason I came after you is there’s a guy waiting in the office. Wants to talk to you and C.J.”

His explanation made a heck of a lot less sense than coming after her to ask if his expense report was done.

There were always guys waiting for her in the office. Or on the phone. Or sending emails or texts. Well, not really
for
her. They wanted the information or help or problem-solving she provided. Not
her
.

Besides, she was walking
toward
the office, so why had Brad come from the direction of main campus?

“Thanks. But, why?”

“I thought you should have some warning before you went in there.” Before she could repeat, “why?” he continued, “I guessed wrong about which path you’d take. I’ve been trying to catch up ever since. Boy, you’ve been on the move.”

“Needed final authorizations for the contract with the company handling arrangements for the trip this summer.”

From the moment approval came through for the men’s basketball team to play in Europe in July she’d been caught in a whirlwind of activity. Hiring this company would knock a thousand details off her to-do list.

“Make sure they line up fun stuff for us,” Brad said. “By the way, you didn’t stop at the travel office. They said to remind you they still need your passport number.”

Perhaps because she was looking for a distraction, motion caught her gaze. Brad was clapping his hands against well-muscled arms in an apparent effort to warm up.

“You’re not wearing a coat.”

He agreed with her brilliant assessment with his usual cheer. “Nope. Good thing I had to run to catch up with you or I’d be frozen.”

“You’re already frozen. Your lips are turning blue.” Which made his eyes look even bluer. How did he
do
that?

“C’mon, then. Let’s get inside.” He slung an arm around her shoulders with ease. By basketball-playing standards he was short, which meant he was mere inches over six-foot instead of a foot or two. He had enough advantage over her five-eight to huddle her close and hurry her toward the doors.

Katie enjoyed that Ashton had preserved the original Physical Education Building’s classic facade when the expansive Sports Center was built around it several years ago. But at the moment she simply wanted to be inside so she could escape his hold.

Too much closeness. Too much movement. Too much … “Brad.”

“Keep going,” he urged, holding on when she would have slipped loose. “Before I turn into an icicle. You not only have a coat on, you’re wearing the infamous Katie sweater.”

“Quit making fun of my sweater.”

“Quit wearing it and I will.”

“It’s warm and practical and has—”

“Pockets. I know. You’ve said that before. They sag you know. From all the stuff you put in them.”

“Which proves I need them to carry things.”

“To carry things or to disappear? That thing’s like a gray shroud. Blends right in to your desk and that tweedy stuff on the chairs. Gray on gray on gray.”

“It would serve you right to turn into an icicle.” She tried to shrug off his arm. “You — oh!” Her right boot heel caught a patch of ice, taking the express route forward.

His arm tightened around her shoulder, the other arm clasped around her waist, turning her motion into an almost graceful pirouette. “Got you.”

Despite herself, she looked up into his smiling face, into those dangerous blue eyes. Oh, yeah, he had her, all right. If only he— No. She wasn’t going down that road.

They were friendly colleagues. That was enough.

Just like one spoonful of a decadent dessert was enough. It was.

Inside the men’s basketball offices, she slid off her coat and shook it.

“Hey!” Brad protested. “You sprayed me with ice water.”

“If you’d worn a jacket like a normal person, you wouldn’t have felt it.”

“Sure I would,” he said, “because I’d have taken mine off the same time you took yours off and I’d still have gotten the ice shower.”

“That’s—” Katie bit off her rejoinder because she’d spotted the man waiting for her. He was attractive, conservatively dressed, and – despite a small grin — more serious-looking than most people who came in the office.

No, not serious, that wasn’t quite right. Players or others often came in with matters that weighed heavily on them. Yet she had the sense that this man’s
serious
was weightier.

She was certain she hadn’t met him before, yet he looked familiar. She smiled as she extended a hand.

“Hi, I’m Katie Davis. I understand you want to see Coach Draper?”

“Yes. Coach Draper and you, Ms. Davis. My name is Pierce.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pierce—” She left a pause to let him correct her if Pierce was his first name. Instead he gave a slight nod. “—Coach Draper is in a meeting. You’ll have to be satisfied with me for now in discussing...”

He ignored the opportunity to fill that in. Most visitors would have jumped on it to introduce their objective – selling something, angling for tickets, or—

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pierce, I should have said, if this is about an interview, the media office—”

“No. Not an interview. Perhaps Coach Draper can join us later. Or you can relay to him what you think he needs to know. If we could find a private space, Ms. Davis?”

“Of course. We can—”

“No.”

She and the man turned toward Brad, who stepped up from behind her, looking at Mr. Pierce.

“She doesn’t talk to you alone,” he said. “Something’s going on, and you’re not talking to Katie without somebody else being there to back her up.”

She shook off her surprise. “Of course I can talk to him until C.J. comes. I do it all the time.” She turned to the stranger. “Unless … Brad is an assistant coach. Perhaps he would be better—”

“No. I want to talk to you. Coach Draper, too, if he were available. But since he’s not…”

“Since he’s not, you can wait to talk to them together.” What had gotten into Brad?

“I can wait,” the other man said mildly, but with steel behind it, like he’d wait until hell froze over.

“There’s no need for that. We can talk now—”

Brad cut her off, looking at her for the first time. “I know you don’t want me, Katie. But if I can’t get Coach out of his meeting, I’ll get Carolyn over here. You—” Back to the other man. “—are not talking to her alone.”

“That’s—” she started.

“This is between Ms. Davis and—”

“No,” Brad repeated. It was a tone she’d heard him use with players, though not frequently. He wasn’t budging.

“C.J.’s in a meeting at the president’s office. So there’s no—”

“Fine.” Brad hit a speed dial number on his phone. “Carolyn? Brad. There’s a man here who wants to talk to Katie and Coach. Together. He won’t say about what, except it doesn’t seem to be basketball, and there’s something weird. … No, he’s in a meeting with the president. She needs you to come be with her. … Right now. The basketball office. … Yeah. Conference room. … I won’t.” That sounded grim. “Okay.”

“Brad, you shouldn’t have bothered Carolyn,” Katie started.

“She’ll be right here.”

The man named Pierce ignored Brad. “Ms. Davis. If you don’t want this professor or anyone else—” That held an edge. “—in this discussion, we can set up an appointment in private.”