Operation: Monarch. Valerie Parv

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СКАЧАТЬ knowing where she was. And his reaction to seeing her again today couldn’t have been less welcoming. “You were never in my fingers to slip through,” he said after a long time. “All we did was kiss once so you could win a bet. Hardly the love affair of the century.”

      How had they strayed onto this track? She felt weary of her body’s betraying response to him, and the one-sided nature of the game. “You’re right. We had nothing then and we have nothing now. At least we agree on something.”

      He didn’t look as pleased as she thought he should. “There’s still the reason you’re here.”

      “I told you, to arrange a meeting between you and Prince Lorne.”

      Garth’s eyebrow lifted. “The ruler of the whole country doesn’t own a telephone?”

      “This is too important to discuss by phone. Can’t you just come with me and be done with it?”

      A glint of challenge lit his dark gaze. “Maybe I enjoy giving you a hard time.”

      “Nothing new in that.”

      “When does the prince want to see me?”

      “As soon as you’re available.”

      “What’s wrong with right now?”

      She knew her quick glance at his clothes gave her away as soon as she saw him bristle. “My dress suit is at the cleaner’s. Now or never, your choice.”

      “Let me make a phone call.”

      He waited with obvious impatience as she called the castle, using Prince Lorne’s private number as instructed. If the monarch was taken aback at Garth’s insistence on an immediate meeting, she didn’t hear it in his voice. “Give me an hour,” was all he said. From experience she knew how much juggling it would take for the prince to free his time. If she wasn’t already aware of it, Lorne’s readiness to do so signaled the gravity of the situation.

      She flipped the phone closed. “The prince can see you in an hour.”

      He looked satisfied. “The castle is ten minutes away. That gives us some time to kill. I don’t know about you, but I could use some coffee.”

      The last thing she wanted was to spend more time than she had to with him, but neither could she let him out of her sight. “Okay. We can take my car.”

      “What’s wrong with this one? Oh, I forgot, this meeting is black tie. It’s probably treason to roll up at the castle in a car you haven’t cleaned in under forty-eight hours.”

      Forty-eight days looked more like it. “I doubt if the prince will care what you’re driving,” she said heavily. She could have one of her security team retrieve her car from the gymnasium later.

      “But you do.”

      “Stop it,” she insisted. “I’m only doing my job.”

      “What made you give up the glamorous life for a gritty job like policing?”

      She had to get out of the confined space before she did something really silly, like run the back of her hand down his stubbled cheek to see how it felt. “Can we swap life stories over coffee?”

      “Sure.”

      She jumped as he reached across her, his hand brushing her breast by accident or design. Either way, her pulse rate shot up. But it was only to lift a black, zippered case from a shelf near her knees. He opened it and took out a portable razor, turning it on and filling the compartment with the sound of angry bees.

      Fascination gripped her as she watched him steer the razor across the faint hint of a cleft in his chin. Up and down and across without once looking in a mirror. When he flicked the razor off, the silence was deafening. He lifted her hand to his cheek. “Better?”

      His freshly shaved skin felt taut and vital. She was alarmingly aware of his hand guiding hers but couldn’t bring herself to pull away, not even when he made her index finger skim along his lower lip. She felt a little hollow there she hadn’t noticed before. Her breathing shallowed. Half an inch higher and he could close his lips around her finger.

      He let her go and she masked her disappointment. It was for the best, she reminded herself unsuccessfully. “Much better.”

      Ten minutes ago she had wanted caffe latte by the waterfront. The place he took her to hardly qualified as a café although it was in the open air. More like a kiosk with an awning that folded down when the place was closed, it boasted a few plastic tables and chairs scattered on the grass in front. At least it was waterfront, if she counted the commercial fishing fleet as a view.

      He surprised her by pulling out a chair for her. “I eat breakfast here most mornings. Alice’s food is the best.”

      So was her coffee, Serena had to admit when the woman brought it for them with a warm smile of welcome. Latte for her, espresso for Garth. Appearances could be deceptive. “This is really great coffee,” she said after the first sip.

      Garth looked at the waitress. “Your place is Solano’s best-kept secret, isn’t it, Alice?”

      The woman pretended offence. “The number of people you bring here, we’ll always be a secret.”

      “I don’t want to share you with just anyone,” he confided.

      He wanted to reassure his friend, not make Serena feel special, but he had that effect, she found to her dismay. This would have to stop. As soon as she delivered him to Prince Lorne she would be finished with this. Finished with him.

      What would she do if he turned out to be the heir to the throne? Request a transfer back to active policing, she thought. She couldn’t imagine working with him, guarding him, even if he would allow it. He was used to fending for himself, keeping his private life private.

      Who would get the greater shock? Garth because his life would be an open book as soon as his heritage was established, or the Carramer people who would have to deal with having a lone wolf as their monarch?

      While Serena was lost in thought Alice had moved away to serve another customer, a fisherman, judging by his appearance. The practical setup of the place began to make sense. You could come straight from your boat to a table without worrying about sea-soaked clothes or muddy boots. Serena leaned back. “This is nice.” The salt tang of the air, smelling faintly of fish, was refreshing. Gulls wheeled over the boats, diving on scraps as fishermen cleaned their catches. In its own way, the scene was as beautiful as if the commercial boats had been millionaires’ yachts.

      He nodded. “Alice is like a mother to half the fleet. Alice and my mother used to go to the Marine Benevolent Society together to visit the old sailors. She was a good friend to my folks.”

      And to him, she heard. “Where do you keep your dive boat?”

      As soon as his accusing gaze flayed her, she knew she’d made a mistake. “When it’s not in dry dock, it’s moored around the point, but you know that already. Is there anything your inquiries haven’t told you about me?”

      She couldn’t stop herself. “Two things—why you have such a colossal chip on your shoulder, and what you’ve got against me personally.”

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