A Prince of a Guy (Red Hot Royals #1)(39)

“Look, it’s lunchtime,” Francesca said. “I’m going to eat. Can I get you something?”

At the thought of food, her stomach rolled, which shocked her, because she loved to eat, always.

“Carlyne? You’re looking green. You okay?”

No. No, she wasn’t okay. She was nauseous and overly emotional.

Understandable, she assured herself. Sure, her period was late, but that was stress.

Sean hadn’t used a condom in the shower.

Carlyne took a long look at her stomach. Flat.

Good.

Suddenly she could see herself big and round with pregnancy. Could see herself giving birth. Holding her baby. Loving that baby with all her heart and soul. Always being there for him or her. Always.

“Carlyne?”

“Nothing for me, thanks.” She managed a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Very.” She wasn’t pregnant, couldn’t be. Still, she couldn’t contain that very small burst of hope. After all, she loved Sean. She’d love his baby.

Actually, at the moment she loved everyone and everything. She virtually danced over to Francesca to hug her tight.

“What was that for?” Francesca asked, squeezing her.

“Just because.”

Carlyne waited until her assistant left before grabbing her purse and keys. She needed a drugstore.

And a pregnancy kit.



AFTER WATCHING the news and seeing Princess Carlyne Fortier’s face everywhere, Sean had to admit Mrs. Trykowski had been right.

Carly—and he liked to think of her as Carly—was rarely smiling, and when she did, the smile didn’t come close to her eyes.

She looked tired, haggard. Miserable.

It drove him crazy that no one, not her family, not the news anchors, not the reporters…no one commented on it.

How could he be the only one in the whole damn world worried about her?

She hadn’t set out to hurt him. He really believed that. He believed her lies had had nothing to do with him.

And if he believed that, then he had to believe she hadn’t been merely slumming, playing around with his feelings.

But what had she been doing? Escaping the hoopla of her life?

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.





14




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.