Название: Matched to a Prince
Автор: Kat Cantrell
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472049537
isbn:
Juliet waited until he’d led her to the bar and handed her a flute of bubbly Veuve Clicquot before responding. “It’s your fault I sought out Elise.”
“Mine?” He dinged the rims of their glasses together and took a healthy swallow in a futile attempt to gain some clarity. “I didn’t even know Elise existed until a few days ago.”
“It was the engagement announcement. If you were moving on, I needed to, as well. I couldn’t do that in Delamer, so here I am.” She spread her hands, flashing coral tips that made him imagine what they’d feel like at his waist once he’d shed his jacket and shirt.
The temperature in the ballroom went sky high as internal ripples of need spread. He’d only thought he was uncomfortable before.
“Like I said, there’s no engagement. Not yet. My father and I agreed it was time I thought about settling down and he went on the bride hunt. Here I am, as well.”
It was a sobering reminder. They’d both been trying to move past the scandal and breakup by searching for someone new. Was that what she truly wanted?
The thought of Juliet with another man ripped a hole in his gut. A shock considering how angry he still was about what she’d done.
“As much as I’ve tried to avoid it, I’ve seen the pictorial evidence of why your dad thought you needed to settle down. You’ve become the Party Prince.” She shot him a quizzical glance, her gaze flat and unreadable. “It seems so unlike you. Sure, we had some fun dancing at clubs and stuff, but we usually left after an hour or so. Did I miss the part where you wanted to stay?”
“I never wanted to stay. I was always thinking about getting you alone.”
“Some of the pictures were really hard to take,” she admitted quietly, and he didn’t need her to elaborate.
Heat climbed up his neck and flushed across his ears.
He’d always known she’d probably see all the photographs of him with other women and hear about his exploits, but he’d honestly never considered a scenario where they’d have an actual conversation about them. There wasn’t a lot about the past year that filled him with pride.
“As long as we’re handing out blame, that was your fault.”
To her credit, she simply glanced at him with a blank expression. “How so?”
She had changed. The Juliet of before would have blasted him over such a stupid statement. “Well, not your fault, per se, but I was trying to drown out the memories. Focus on the future. Moving on, like you said.”
“Did it work?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Their gazes crashed and his lips tingled. He wanted to pull her against him and dive in. Kiss her until neither of them could remember anything other than how good they felt together.
She tossed back the last of her champagne as if she hadn’t noticed the heavily charged moment. He wished he could say the same as all the blood rushed from his head, draining southward into a spectacular hard-on.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Have dinner with me,” he said hoarsely. “Tomorrow night. For old time’s sake.”
Neither of them thought this match was a good idea. He knew that. But he couldn’t resist stealing a few more forbidden hours with Juliet. No matter what she’d done in the past, he couldn’t walk out of this ballroom and never see her again.
“I should have my head examined. But okay.”
Her acceptance was fortuitously timed. A svelte woman and her friend nearly bowled Juliet over in an enthusiastic attempt to get a photo with him.
It was a common-enough request and he normally didn’t mind. But tonight he wanted to be selfish and spend as much time with Juliet as he could, before his father interfered. Before all the reasons they’d split in the first place surfaced.
She’d always be the woman who burned a Delamer flag at the palace gates. The people of his country had long memories for acts of disloyalty to the crown.
And so did he.
There was no way crossing an ocean could create a different dynamic between two people. Because Juliet would never see he couldn’t go against his father, and never understand that as the second son, Finn had little to offer the crown besides unconditional support.
If she ever did finally get it, all her sins would be forgiven. By everyone, including him.
That would happen when it snowed in Delamer during July.
Until then, he’d indulge in Juliet, ignore the rest and then ask Elise to match him with someone else.
Juliet stared in the mirror and tried to concentrate on applying eye shadow to her lids as Dannie and Elise had shown her. Multiple times. Her scrambled brain couldn’t focus.
Dazed and breathless well described the state Finn had left her in last night, and it hadn’t cleared up in the almost twenty-four hours since. Finn’s clean scent lingered in her nose, evoking painfully crisp memories of being with him, loving him.
And suffering the agony of finally accepting that he cared nothing for her. Cared nothing for her pain at losing the brother she’d helped raise.
All Finn cared about was zipping himself into the uniform of Delamer’s military and wearing it with nationalistic pride.
Madness. Why had she agreed to this date again?
Elise stuck her head in the door of Juliet’s room.
“Almost ready? Oh. You’re not even dressed yet. What are you wearing?”
A flak jacket if she was smart. And if they made one you could wear internally. But she’d come to America in hopes of finding a new direction. She’d stay open to the possibility that time had dulled Finn’s zealous fervor.
One date. One night. What did she have to lose?
Her eyes narrowed. She’d stay open, but that didn’t mean Finn didn’t deserve to suffer for his sins.
“I want to wear something that will show Finn what I’ve endured in your makeover program because of him. The sexier and more painful for him, the better.” Hours and hours of hot rollers, facials and balancing on four-inch heels were about to hit his royal highness where it hurt.
“Yellow dress, then. I brought you something.” Elise held out a velvet jewelry box.
Mystified, Juliet opened the lid to reveal a silver heart charm dangling from a matching chain, and another heart dangled from the first, one clutching the other to keep it from falling. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Simple but elegant, perfect for a tomboy who’d rather be doing something athletic than primping.
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