A Prince of a Guy (Red Hot Royals #1)(7)

“Hurry, Uncle Sean, hurry!”

Carlyne had to smile at the pure terror that crossed Sean’s face—her father had never, ever given a thought to helping his children in the bathroom—before Sean whirled and rushed down the hall.

No, Sean may not like this responsibility he’d taken on, but he appeared to be a man who wouldn’t shirk his duties. Carlyne watched him with new eyes and an awareness she hadn’t expected to feel.

When they were out of sight, her be-mused smile slowly faded. She blinked at her reflection, wondering about what she’d done.

Urgent potty calls?

Salami for breakfast?

She shivered at the thought, but then she pictured Sean, all that disturbing dark sensuality, his intensity, and shivered all over again.



AT HIS FIRST opportunity to work without the interruption of a high-strung four-year-old, Sean sat at his desk. He meant to dig in but found himself staring out the window instead.

Melissa was running as fast as her short, chunky legs would take her. Hair flying out behind her, wide, mischievous grin on her face.

Sean rose, swearing, thinking she was on the run from whatever terrible thing she’d done to the new nanny, when said new nanny appeared in the window, as well.

Hair flying behind her, running, and though he doubted her legs were short and chunky like Melissa’s, he couldn’t say for certain as they were hidden beneath her skirt. Just like his niece, she wore a wide and mischievous grin, and there was something in her infectious laughter that made him smile, too. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was incredibly…real. He liked real.

He liked her.

“Can’t catch me, can’t catch me,” squealed Melissa, slowing with a hopeful, expectant glance over her shoulder.

She wanted to be chased.

She wanted to be caught.

And Sean stood there with a sudden pit in his stomach, because he couldn’t remember a single time over the past days that he’d spared the time to play with the little girl like that. Couldn’t remember not being annoyed or tired or frustrated.

Couldn’t remember laughing, or just…being.

“Can’t catch me,” Melissa sang.

Catch her, Sean willed Carly, leaning close as if he could do it from the other side of the glass. Do for her what I never did.

At the same moment he wished it, Carly surged forward and scooped the little girl up in her arms, swinging her around and around, looking young and happy and free.

Their joined laughter rang out, and finally, they both collapsed in a fit of giggles to the grass. Melissa crawled into Carly’s lap.

Carly’s arms lifted, and for a second hovered in the air as if she wasn’t used to such easy affection, but then she wrapped them around the child, her face filled with such contentment it almost hurt to look at her.

Sean sat down, still watching. Still…yearning?

No, that made no sense. No sense whatsoever.



“SO WHO’S IN CHARGE of dinner?”

Sean lifted his gaze off the plans he’d been studying, the plans he’d been trying to finish since Melissa had stepped into his life, turning it upside down. Slowly he blinked Carly into focus.

She was standing in the doorway of his office, looking quite a bit more rumpled then when she’d arrived for her interview that morning. He knew without asking that the dirty smudges on her wide skirt were from grubby four-year-old hands, that the wrinkles in her shirt came from lifting that same four-year-old, and likely her hair was rioting around her face because of something Melissa had done.

But somehow, she looked…cute. He knew from having a sister, and also a fair amount of relationships, that the word cute wasn’t exactly considered flattering, but he thought it should be.

What made her so attractive that he couldn’t tear his eyes off her? He hadn’t a clue.

“Dinner?” she repeated, pushing those huge glasses closer to her eyes. “Melissa’s hungry.”

“Sure. What are you making?”

She gave him a long, baleful look. “I wasn’t offering to make it.”

“Oh.” The radio at his elbow switched from good old-fashioned rock music to the news.

“And on the celebrity front,” the announcer said. “It’s rumored that Princess Carlyne Fortier has gone AWOL. Her grandfather denies this, claiming his granddaughter has merely left for a private vacation, but for the first time in ten years the princess didn’t attend the International Muscular Dystrophy fund-raiser, held last night in D.C.”

Carlyne let out a sound of annoyance, so Sean turned the volume down. “Is it dinnertime already?” he asked.

“Yes.” She glared at the radio, which continued to spit out the top-breaking story, very softly now.

“Rumor has it she is close to a nervous breakdown from her heavy social schedule,” claimed the announcer, sarcasm in his voice. “Must be a tough life, folks, huh?”

“He hasn’t a clue,” Carly muttered.

Because she was obviously agitated, Sean flicked the radio off. “Uh, where were we?”

She sighed. “Dinner.”

“Yeah. To tell you the truth, I was kinda hoping you could cook.” Sean tried his most charming smile.

She merely arched an eyebrow, looking suddenly very aristocratic. “Was cooking in my job description?”