Jill Shalvis - A Prince Of A Guy

He should have let her explain. She still deserved that, and so did he, but getting hold of a princess wasn’t easy.

In fact, it was downright impossible.

He called her family compound and got the runaround. Same thing from all the businesses connected to her name. No luck with the Web sites.

If she’d had a regular address, he’d have flown there in a heartbeat, but he didn’t even know where she lived.

So he called Melissa. A lot.

In the third week, Stacy got on the phone and said, “Okay, Seany, what’s up?”

“Can’t a guy just call his niece?”

“You really miss her?”

She sounded so surprised, he laughed. “Yeah, I really miss her. Actually, I was thinking I could come get her tomorrow and take her out for pizza.”

“She’s available.” Stacy went quiet for a moment. “Is there something else you want to tell me? Something you want to talk about?”

“Like?”

“Like this sudden need to have people around you.”

“I always like having you around.”

“This is me, Sean. You love us, I know you do, but I also know you value your alone time. So what’s changed?”

Sean looked out his kitchen window to the pool. He thought of Carly sitting on the edge, watching him swim.

It had all started there.

Actually, it had started the moment he’d opened his front door to her, when she’d answered his ad.

His ad.

That was it! Another ad. “Stacy, I’ve got to go.”

“But-”

“Bye.”

“Sean O’Mara, don’t you dare hang up! I want to know details. I want to know-”

Gently he replaced the receiver. He’d make it up to her. Later.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Putting another want ad in his local paper was a long shot, but she’d seen it the first time, so she had to at least view various papers from around the world, right?

God, he hoped so. He drafted a new ad. And then, to be sure, he placed it in every single major newspaper in the free world.

AFTER A VERY LONG WEEK, Princess Carlyne-and she was finally getting used to hearing people call her that again-slipped out of her clothes and into the bathtub, grateful for some time to herself.

She took great pride in her charity benefits, of which there’d been four this week, but they weren’t enough for her. France was no longer enough for her, and neither was Spain.

Truth was, she didn’t have to attend each and every one of these events personally. With a computer and a phone, she could be stationed anywhere.

Even Santa Barbara, California.

Assuming, of course, she had a reason to be there. Which she didn’t.

That left a little dilemma. A little dilemma that would be getting bigger and bigger, because the stick had turned blue. In all four kits she tried.

Pregnant.

Equal parts joy and terror washed through her, and she leaned back in the tub, letting the bubbles and hot water relax her. As if that were possible.

Whether Sean wanted to talk to her or not, she had to tell him.

Determined to keep relaxed, she reached for the stack of newspapers she’d left on a stool next to the tub.

The Washington Post didn’t intrigue her. Nor did the Los Angeles Times. She tossed away the New York Times, as well, and even knowing it would kill her, she reached for the much smaller Santa Barbara paper.

The memory of Sean’s nanny ad made her mouth curve and her throat burn, but as was her habit, she skimmed the columns anyway…and abruptly sat up in shock.

Her gasp echoed against the tile and bounced back to her. She jerked the paper closer and read again.

“Wanted-What I was stupid enough to let go. A warm, funny, loving, intelligent, gorgeous caretaker for my heart and soul. Come back, Carly. Please come back.”

Her heart had stopped, just stopped. Now it started again with a rapid beat. Her stomach sizzled with nerves.

Or maybe that was morning sickness.

He wanted her back?

And what would he say when he learned it was no longer just her, that she was carrying a baby? Their baby.

SEAN STOOD by the pool. His stress level dictated a swim, but lately doing laps had lost its appeal.

Inside, his doorbell rang, and he sighed. He had no idea if it was the courier bringing him a crucial set of plans or the pizza he’d ordered, but the swim would have to wait.

Flipping through his wallet, he opened the door, distracted by the fact that he had far less cash than he thought, which meant Melissa had picked him nearly clean last night before he’d caught her playing with his wallet.

He shuddered to think of her in another few years even as he smiled fondly at her audacity. Watch out, world.

“Sean.”

At the unbearably familiar, soft, feminine voice, Sean looked up, sure he’d been hearing things, because no way could Carly be standing there delivering his pizza.

No pizza, but she was most definitely standing there, with her sleek blond hair and gorgeous green eyes. She wore hardly any makeup, revealing her elegant, beautiful features and her clothes fit her willowy curves.

For a ridiculous moment he stared at her, certain he’d conjured her up.

She stared back.

Then normal daytime sounds broke the silence. A car revving. A bird in a tree.

Mrs. Trykowski humming from the other side of the fence, probably at this very moment climbing a tree to spy on them.

“Hi,” Carly finally whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back, his voice rough with the knot of emotion stuck in his windpipe.

“You’re…not wearing much.”

He looked at himself and realized he stood there in only his swimming trunks.

Her eyes ran over him hungrily, like a caress, and he felt his body tighten. He was afraid to hope, was his first thought, and his second was, would she care if he just grabbed her and hauled her close?

It wasn’t easy to reconcile this worldly woman, the one he’d seen on television and in the papers, with the more whimsical, earthy woman he’d lived with for weeks.

“I’m very glad to see you,” he said in the understatement of the year.

She stood very, very still. “Are you sure, Sean? Because the last time I saw you, we-”

“ Very sure.” Did he invite her in, he wondered, or just ravish her on the spot, Mrs. Trykowski be damned?

Carlyne took the matter entirely out of his hands by losing all the color in her face. Weaving slightly, she reached for the doorway.

Sean tried to grab her, but she shook him off. “I’m okay.”

No, she wasn’t. No one that white could be okay. “What’s the matter?” Urgency roughened his voice, but she didn’t answer. “Carly?”

When her eyes rolled back in her head, he grabbed her.

“Don’t,” she murmured as he scooped her up. “I can walk.” But her head lolled against his chest.

“Shh.” He couldn’t talk and carry her-he felt absurdly weak with worry. She’d lost weight, and right now her skin was nearly transparent.

What was wrong?

Kicking the front door shut, he stood there, reluctant to let go of her now that he finally had her in his arms.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Yeah. So fine, you’re blacking out.”

“Honest, I can walk-”

Ignoring her, he settled her on the couch.

“You’re white as a ghost, Carly,” he said as lightly as he could with his heart in his throat. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” He sank to his knees on the floor and put a hand on her hip. “Are you sick?”

Turning away, she curled into a little ball. Her hair fell away from her neck, making her look all the more miserable and vulnerable. “I’m just not feeling well.”