Mindy Neff - The Inconveniently Engaged Prince

“No?” He held her gaze, brushed a finger against a stray wisp of hair that clung to her cheek. Her eyes belied her words. Hooking his hand around the back of her neck, he drew her forward, slipped off her sunglasses. “Let’s see.”

He’d caught her off guard, but after only the slightest resistance, her lips went pliant beneath his. If she’d fought him, pulled back in earnest, he’d have immediately let her go. But just as her eyes had contradicted, so did her mouth. It was sweet, hungry…and definitely interested.

She tasted like his destiny.

The thought skittered through his head, should have surprised him, made him nervous. The only thing he could truly think about right now, though, was the intoxicating, electrifying tumult of desire that gripped his body like a vice and held him in thrall.

Despite her admitted lack of social life, Victoria Meadland knew how to kiss. She damned near melted his bones and fried his brain.

He wanted more, pulled her tighter against him, angled his head and feasted, surprised to find himself hard-pressed to keep up with her. He’d meant to prove a point to her. He was the one getting the lesson.

A car door slammed and the sound of a child’s voice lifted in glee pierced his impassioned haze.

Jace lingered for another moment, then broke the kiss. Softly. Slowly.

He watched as her lids lifted to reveal dazed, beautiful blue eyes.

“Didn’t feel uninterested to me.”

Coherency flashed in her eyes with the speed of a powerful microprocessor. She scooted away from him, tucked her hair behind her ear, fumbled for the sunglasses he’d removed.

“Sexual chemistry doesn’t make a relationship.”

“No, but it helps.” He noted that her hands were trembling.

“Jace, I told you, I’m not looking for anything more than friendship.”

“But I am.”

Her release of breath held more than frustration. “I think this was a bad idea. Maybe we should just call it a day.” She reached for the ignition key.

He put his hand over hers, stilling her movements. He didn’t know what made Victoria Meadland try to shy away from men—or from him—but he vowed to find out.

“We haven’t even begun the day. I’d ask you if it was me, but after that kiss, it’d be a pretty stupid question.”

She stared out at the tall pines that perfumed the air, then took off her sunglasses and turned to him. In her eyes were secrets and a vulnerability she desperately tried to mask. The combination made his heart sting, made him want to gather her close and promise her the world.

A world where everything was nice and tidy and pretty.

“I’ve made mistakes, Jace. I don’t want to repeat them.”

He put a finger over her lips. “I’m not interested in the past. We all have one, and all of us screw up at one time or another. But we all deserve a second chance as well. Can’t you let yourself have that chance?”

She glanced away, pulling inward to a place he feared he couldn’t reach. “I’m scared,” she admitted softly.

“Hell, so am I. I don’t usually come on so strong to a woman, but you touch something inside me.”

“Jace—”

He stopped her again, this time reaching for her hand. “Let’s put this on hold, okay? We got a little side-tracked and we’re supposed to be bird-watching.”

“You can’t really want to go scouting for birds.”

“I absolutely do. And just think. You can use me for a sounding board, educate me on our residential winged creatures. It’ll be just like answering questions on a test. Difference is, I won’t know if you’re giving the correct answer or not, so either way, you ace the exam.”

Her smile started slowly, then blossomed. “That’s the most ridiculous attempt to get your way that I’ve ever heard. Sounds to me like you’re not going to be of much help as a study aid.”

He grinned, squeezed her hand again just to please himself. “Try me.”

She took him on the Guy Fleming Trail because it was an easy walk. Although he was in fabulous shape, and his tennis shoes were top quality and would manage most any terrain, she herself enjoyed this loop of the park. It was less traveled by tourists, who usually chose the beach trail.

“It’s peaceful here,” he said, looking up at the huge pines. “I’ve lived in San Diego all my life and never come here.”

“You’re probably into roller-blading or running along the boardwalks or parks by the beach, I bet.”

He grinned. “How’d you guess?”

“It shows.” She gave his body a quick scan to prove her point.

“You’re good for my ego.”

“As if it needs any help,” she said dryly.

“Surely you’re not accusing me of being conceited.”

She thought about that for a moment. Actually, he wasn’t stuck on himself. Just self-assured. “I was teasing—oh, look.” She held out an arm, stopping him. Four quail chicks had ventured out for a drink in the birdbath just ahead of them.

“Little suckers, aren’t they?” Jace said.

“Shh.” Too late. The sound of his voice sent the mama quail out of the bushes where she’d been keeping watch. In seconds she had her babies rounded up and filed back into the cover of the bushes.

Vickie sighed. “There are rules to bird-watching. The first one is to be quiet.”

He looked sheepish. “I knew that.”

For the next few minutes, he walked beside her in silence, but she could feel the intangible vibration coming from him. He was dying to talk.

Unable to stand it any longer, she paused at the North Overlook and brushed her fingers against the prickly needles of a pine. “What?” she demanded.

His blond brows raised.

“You look like you’re about to burst.”

“I’m trying to be quiet.” He reached down and scooped up a handful of pine needles. “I’m usually pretty good at following rules. This one’s difficult.”

“Why? Don’t you enjoy the solitude of nature?”

“Sure. When I’m not with a beautiful woman.”

The compliment shot straight to her head, chipped at her resolve to keep things light.

“We can talk. Most of the birds are in the trees and they’ll pretty much ignore us.” Like the scrub jay busily gathering seeds out of a pine cone a few yards away.

He let out a relieved sigh. “So, don’t you need to be taking notes?”

“I’ve got a good memory. I’m more of a visual person, anyway. Most of the species, I’ve already looked up. I just like to come and see them in person rather than looking at a glossy picture. Besides, I love these old trees, the smell of them, what they represent.”

“Trees are trees.”

She smiled. “You’ve been living in the city jungle for too long. Your appreciation of the finer things in life appears to be lacking.”

“I appreciate fine things. Except, maybe opera. I’m sorry to say, I just can’t get into that. Or the ballet.”

She started them walking along the trail again. “I’ve never personally experienced either one, but I’ve read about them and seen some on television. I think I’d enjoy the ballet more than the opera.”

“Really?” He sounded appalled, yet resigned, as though he’d offer to take her if that’s truly what she wanted.

She tugged his sleeve when he slowed down, and he slid his hand down to link with hers. For a second, she started to resist. They shouldn’t be walking hand in hand like lovers. But the warmth of his big palm felt comforting. Solid. Like the pines that surrounded them.

The trees in this section of the reserve weren’t the rarest or the tallest of the species, but the moment she’d stumbled upon them several years ago, she’d identified with them. Along the sea cliffs, their roots grew in poor soil, they suffered from drought, were blasted by storms and cooked in the sun, yet they survived.