A Prince of a Guy (Red Hot Royals #1)(38)

How could she do that?

Francesca looked over, saw her eyes fill and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” God, she missed Melissa. She missed Santa Barbara. She missed the ocean. She missed the freedom.

She even missed Mrs. Trykowski.

But most of all, she missed Sean. He had made her smile, had made her laugh. He’d made her live. “I’m just tired,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. “Very tired.”

Leaning back, she closed her eyes. But all she saw was Sean, and the way he’d held her, as if she was the most important person in the entire world.

And for her short time with him, she had been.



TWO DAYS LATER Stacy came back for Melissa.

Sean had expected to feel great elation. Freedom.

Instead, his house was too quiet. He no longer had a bossy little girl demanding kisses. He no longer had a hot woman demanding kisses.

He was lonely, dammit. And he had no idea what to do about it.





13




“YOO-HOO!”

Sean got out of his car and waited for Mrs. Trykowski to leap over her flower bed and waddle up to him. He waited because it wasn’t worth the effort to outrun her.

Not that he could have, because the woman, old as she was, moved faster than anyone he knew.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “I saw Carlyne on the news. She’s home, back in France with her family. Why is that, exactly?”

Yeah, Sean, why is that? “Because that’s her home, Mrs. Trykowski. This was temporary, remember? A nanny job, and Melissa is gone.”

“Pah.”

“Excuse me?”

“She was more than a baby-sitter, Sean O’Mara, and you know it. How badly did you screw it all up?”

He stared at her. “Are you by any chance related to my assistant, Nikki?”

“I do not know any Nikki, but I do know that you are an idiot if you let her go home without telling her how much you love her.”

“Look, I have to go to work,” he said, rubbing his aching temples.

“Sure. Bury yourself in work again.”

“I’m not the one who lied.”

“Oh, get over it.” Mrs. Trykowski waved her arms when she spoke, nearly hitting him in the nose. “If you lived the life she did, you’d want your peace and quiet and privacy, too! You ever think of that?”

No. No, actually, despite devouring every bit of news on Princess Carlyne he could since she’d left, he hadn’t.

“If you’d needed to get away that badly, you would have done whatever you had to, which might just include putting on a wig and glasses and going to the other side of the world.” Her eyes narrowed. “Face it, Sean. She acted human.”

When she walked away from him, Sean stared after her, wondering how he’d become the bad guy. And why everything she’d said made far too much sense.



CARLYNE SAT in her Paris office and stared out the window. But instead of the buildings and streets crammed with people, all she saw was the Pacific Ocean, the beautiful sand and bluffs.

And Sean. She saw Sean.

“Daydreaming again.” Francesca walked in and tsked but sent her a sympathetic smile. “Overwhelmed?”

It felt strange to speak in her native tongue, French, after so many weeks of English. “I can’t find the invitation for the Driskel fund-raiser.”

“It’s on your desk.”

“Oh. Well, I can’t find—”

“It’s on your desk.”

Carlyne glanced around her at all the piles she thought she’d gone through. “And the—”

“On your desk.” Patiently, Francesca sat. “Everything you need is on your desk.”

Baffled, Carlyne lifted her hands. “So why does it all seem out of place?”

“Because you’re out of place.”

Carlyne stared at her, then sat back and let out a long sigh. “I know. It just all seems…” She waved a hand at her huge office, at the decadent interior she’d inherited from her mother when she’d taken over the job as Official Fortier Party Maker. “Big. Too big. It’s a waste. I don’t need this office.”

“Probably not.”

Carlyne shook her head. God, how she wanted the simple life back, the one she’d had with Melissa and Sean.

Francesca leaned forward and patted her hand. “You know, it’s been nearly two weeks. You could just do as normal women do these days and call him.”

“Who?”

Francesca gave her a dry look. “Gee, I wonder.”

But he’d asked her to leave. How could she call?

“You never explained,” Francesca said gently. “Calling to try to do so would be normal, Carlyne. Really.”

“I’ve never been normal.”

“Well, that’s true. But in this case, you should make an exception. It’s clear you’re not going to be able to go on until you do.”

“I should have told him the truth in the beginning.”

“Yes,” Francesca agreed. “But you didn’t. So you’ll have to make him understand now.”

How? How could she make someone like Sean, a man who followed his own rules and never let others live his life for him, understand?