A Prince of a Guy (Red Hot Royals #1)(26)

Oh, Lord.

He still stood there, wearing only his pants. His chest was wet, as if he’d showered and hadn’t taken time to towel off.

Had he said his swimming was a stress reliever? Because man, oh, man, it had truly done wonders for his physique. Those broad shoulders, that sleek, smooth chest…

“I didn’t change my mind about taking you,” he said. A tiny rivulet of water ran down his jaw, dropped to his chest and slowly slid over his ribs, past that stomach she wanted to touch, and disappeared into his pants. They were open, proving he’d indeed been in some kind of hurry, and if there’d been better light in the hallway she might have gotten to see—

“Did you change yours?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

He’d seen her staring. And he was staring back. Only it wasn’t in quite the same heated, hungry way, and she couldn’t say she blamed him.

She wore a full black skirt, to the floor. The matching sweater was a zippered tunic, leaving her covered from chin to toe. It was purposely unrevealing and not even close to sexy. But it suited Carly.

If Carlyne had dressed like this, whoever her date was would have been bitterly disappointed, as she was known for her beautiful, sophisticated and naturally sexy style.

But Carly wasn’t sophisticated.

Sean didn’t look disappointed, though. In fact, he wasn’t looking at her body at all, but into her eyes. She saw relief that she was going with him, and something else that made her breath catch.

Had she thought he wasn’t looking at her with hunger and heat?

He was, oh, he definitely was, and it was her own little miracle.

“I just wanted to make sure about your dress,” he said quietly. “I should have asked before now.”

She’d done nothing to deserve it, and yet he cared about her. Another miracle. “Are you…going like that?”

Mischief filled his gaze. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Not for me. But you might find it tedious with all the women in the place following you around, drooling.”

He laughed, looking a little embarrassed, which she found unbearably sweet.

The men in her world knew exactly how gorgeous they were.

“I’ll be ready in five,” he said.

In five minutes exactly, he met her in the foyer, and Carlyne nearly fell over.

She’d seen him in jeans. In casual wear. Oh, and his bathing suit, let’s not forget that mouthwatering experience. But she’d never seen him dressed for success. Quite simply, he took her breath away.

“Okay?” he asked.

Okay? He could have walked right off the glossy pages of any magazine. “I, uh, yeah. You look…”

Mrs. Trykowski walked in the front door. “Beautiful!” She gave him an enthusiastic hug. “Only thirty years younger, Seany, my boy, and I’d go for you myself.”

To Carlyne’s amusement, he reddened as he kissed Melissa goodbye.

The little girl clung, throwing her arms around her uncle’s neck. For exactly one second, Sean hesitated, as if surprised by her genuine show of love and affection. As if he didn’t quite know what to do with all that emotion.

Over Melissa’s head, he met Carly’s gaze.

Just as baffled by matters of the heart, Carlyne lifted a shoulder and gave him a little smile. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around Melissa and returned the hug.

It was a family moment, a special one. And suddenly she yearned for some of that same love and affection in her family.

But then Sean was taking her arm, leading her down the walk, and they were alone in his car.

He put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn. Instead, he faced her, looked at her, into her. Unhappy in her get-up, especially next to his beautifully clad body, she wished he could see the real her, not this dowdy unsophisticated person she’d created. Wished he’d stop looking at her. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

With a snort, she pushed up her glasses and turned away.

His hand settled on her arm, and reluctantly she turned back.

“You are,” he said quietly.

“We’re going to be late.”

“Carly…”

That name! “Please, Sean. Just drive. Let’s get this over with.”

For a moment, he looked at her, at her hair, her glasses, her mouth, then into her eyes. “We can talk later then.”

“Maybe.”

He started the car. “Definitely.”



HALFWAY UP THE WALK to the sprawling beachfront house where the party was, Carlyne’s deep skirt pocket started ringing.

It was her cell phone, which she was carrying because she still hadn’t made her daily call to Francesca.

Sean stopped short and looked at her as if she’d grown wings. “Your skirt is ringing.”

“It’s nobody,” she said, hoping Francesca—it had to be Francesca—would hang up.

“Why don’t you take out the phone and say hello to nobody?” Sean asked.

“It’s probably just a wrong number.”

“Uh-huh.” He reached into her pocket and took out the phone. Looking at the readout, which had a caller ID, he frowned. “It’s long distance. As in another country.”

She grabbed the phone. “Hello, Francesca. Can you say bad timing?”