Mindy Neff - The Inconveniently Engaged Prince

“I ran away from a group home when I was sixteen, which meant dropping out of high school. Since I was on my own, I had to work to support myself. Then I had to get my GED and build up a cushion of funds. I was young and didn’t realize I could work and go to college.”

“It’s a heavy load.”

“But it’ll be worth it.”

He shouldn’t ask about the group home. It was none of his business. But he seemed to have an insatiable need to find out everything about her. And coming from a close, happy family, the idea of not living within that circle of safety was unthinkable.

“This…uh, group home. Was it like a foster family?”

“No.” She twisted the two rings on her middle finger. “I lived in a few of those. Some of them were nice, some of them just okay. The group home was more along the lines of what you’d call an orphanage for kids not yet old enough for emancipation. It was called Helen’s Home. We called it Hell’s Home.”

From the set of her shoulders and the dare in her eyes, it was clear she wouldn’t tolerate pity. And he didn’t intend to give it.

But questions could easily be misconstrued. If he had his way—which he generally did—there would be plenty of time to delve into all the facets of Victoria Meadland.

He also made a mental note to himself to check into this Helen’s Home. If kids were being mistreated there, he had the connections to do something about it. And he would.

“Well, from living in Hell, you’ve definitely evolved into an angel.”

She gave a short laugh. “You’re nuts.”

“About you.”

“Would you stop saying stuff like that?”

“Can’t seem to help it. I take one look at you and the words just tumble out.”

“Did that fancy college also offer a class in smooth lines to use on your dates?”

He reached over and touched her hand, made sure he had her attention. “I don’t give lines, Victoria. You’ll find that my word is my bond. And I don’t use my words, or my promises, lightly.”

Her thumb tentatively touched his finger, then retreated. “What is it you want, Jace?” she asked, her voice so quiet it was a mere puff of breath.

“You.”

She started to shake her head.

“Give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“You’d be surprised how much time’s available when you schedule it.”

“Between working and school, my schedule’s pretty full.”

“I know. And I don’t intend to stand in your way or keep you from your goals. All I want is some of your time.”

“Jace—”

“You feel it, too, don’t you?”

She took a deep breath, let it out and nodded. There was no coy game-playing. She knew exactly what he was asking.

“Yes. I like you a lot, Jace Carradigne. But you might find out that I’m not what you’re looking for. And in that case, the risk for me is just too great.”

Vickie had studied until 2:00 a.m., so when her telephone rang at eight-thirty Saturday morning, she wasn’t feeling very civilized.

She reached for the receiver, knocked over the alarm clock she deliberately hadn’t set. “’lo?”

“Did I wake you?”

Adrenaline shot through her, bringing her straight up in the bed. She snatched at the clock, looked at the time, tried like mad to get her brain in gear.

“It’s eight-thirty on Saturday morning, and I’m not exactly what you’d call a lark. What do you think?”

Jace chuckled. “Sorry. I waited as long as I could.”

She settled against the pillows, wondered if she’d remembered to set the automatic brew on the coffee-maker. Sissy, who’d been curled up at the end of the bed, gave a disgusted look at having been disturbed. Vickie leaned forward and scooped the cat into her arms to soothe her.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those disgustingly chipper morning people.”

“Guilty.”

He sounded so happily contrite, she smiled, stroking Sissy’s silky fur. She’d rescued the cat when it had been a mere kitten, incensed that someone could just dump something so beautiful and sweet. Then again, she knew a bit about abandonment. Since she’d always yearned for a sister, she’d named the kitten Sissy. They’d been each other’s stability for three years now.

“What are you wearing right now?”

That caught her off guard, brought her fully awake faster than a pure shot of caffeine straight through an open vein. “None of your business.”

“Let me guess. A little T-shirt and a pair of those comfy shorts.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then glanced down at her men’s-cut flannel pajamas adorned with little sheep and half moons. “Um, not exactly.”

“Am I close?”

A smart woman would not play this game. Lack of coffee, she told herself, could account for fewer brain cells. “Warm. I’m…comfy.” Her voice softened intimately. “No T-shirt or shorts, though.”

There was a beat of silence. “Oh, man. Don’t tell me you sleep in the buff.”

She grinned, bit her lip. “I wouldn’t dream of telling you such a thing.”

He groaned. “Doesn’t matter. Unfortunately for me, I have a vivid imagination. Now I’ll have to go take a cold shower.”

“You started it. And speaking of which, did you call me at this ungodly hour just to find out what I am, or am not wearing?” She couldn’t believe she was talking to him this way. At one time in her life, this would have been the norm. Flirting had made her feel powerful, especially when a man responded in typical fashion. But she’d changed her ways, put that behind her.

She’d come to realize that the insecure part of her had been starved for affection, and the least bit of positive attention she’d received from the opposite sex had sent her straight into infatuation. An infatuation she’d immaturely mistaken for something deeper.

Thankfully…hopefully she’d wised up. Though her behavior this morning tried to tell a different story.

Still, something about the anonymity of the telephone seemed to bring out the devil-may-care side of her.

“Actually, I called to invite you to breakfast.”

“Is that all you think about? Eating?”

His tone softened, deepened. “No. Not all the time. Lately, I’ve been spending a fair amount of time thinking about that little tattoo on your back.”

She blinked, tried to recall when he might have seen it. It was a tiny bouquet of happy flowers at the small of her back, the one thing left over from her misspent youth that she absolutely loved. Cold weather clothes, though, usually kept it hidden. And she certainly hadn’t peeled up her top for Jace Carradigne.

Clearing her throat, she started to speak, but he cut her off.

“Before you turn me down, breakfast comes with an offer to study. Bring your books and we’ll review together. See? No excuses.”

She glanced through the miniblinds of her apartment window. Outside the day was sunny with only a few high puffy clouds in sight. In the eucalyptus tree, a clever blue jay foraged in the bark for breakfast, bobbing his tail in apparent satisfaction before taking flight.

“I think I’m pretty well prepared for the psych test.”

“Great. Then we’ll eat and go sight-seeing like tourists.”

She couldn’t believe how tempting that sounded. For so long now, her life had consisted of work and school, with little time left for socializing or having fun. Oh, she could have made more time for socializing, but she’d been so focused, so single-minded, as though doing penance.

It suddenly struck her that she was getting tired of atoning. She was on her way toward her goals. Why couldn’t she enjoy the company of an exciting man?