Gamble on Engagement Read online

  Leo deserved it.

  I realized I was staring again and made a point to look at my food for a few minutes while we ate in comfortable silence.

  “Well, I’d better be off to get ready for bed,” Leo finally said. “I’ve got a really early flight.”

  “Oh, of course,” I said, setting my fork down.

  I’d been going at the caramel torte like I’d never seen a dessert before. I just couldn’t seem to help making an ass of myself.

  “No, finish. Take your time,” he said, “and make yourself at home. I want you to be as comfortable as possible while you’re here,” he said. “And I’ll see you in a week.”

  “Thanks again for everything so far. Your home is beautiful,” I said.

  “Thank you. Please, enjoy yourself,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it gently.

  And with that, he left.

  I went back to the torte—after all, there was really no reason to stop now—my shoulder still tingling where he’d touched it.

  After I’d stuffed myself silly, I spent a few hours looking up websites that might give me the slightest insight into Prince Leo. Of course, he’d already left quite an impression on me, and I could certainly see why the people were so intrigued with him, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying to dig up as much information as I could possibly find. It was like I was obsessed, working into the wee hours of the morning.

  Of course, that was only because I wanted to do such a good job, that’s all. Really.

  And it’s not like the research was a waste of time, because it was after I found this tiny article that exposed Prince Leo’s favorite vacation spot that I decided where to go for my weekend getaway.

  A tiny beach resort in Marbella, Spain.

  If Prince Leo loved it, judging from how gorgeous his castle was, it was sure to be the paradise that I was looking for.

  ~~~

  The next morning I woke up bright and early to start planning my trip.

  Okay, it wasn’t that early since I’d been up so late on the computer, but it sure felt early. I thought about going for a bike ride through the country, since it seemed like a very English morning thing to do, but the condition of my hand had me wondering if I’d be able to grip the handlebars. I guess that tensor bandage wasn’t that great of idea after all. Well, it might have been an alright idea, but it had decidedly not been a good idea to wrap it tight enough to cut off most of my circulation. My poor hand looked like it belonged on a blow up doll. It was quite shocking really. And I swear, it didn’t even seem that tight when I first put it on either.

  After I released the tensor, the swelling slowly started going down as I got ready, but I was still in no shape to be seen, even though I was completely starving. Geez, you’d think I’d be full for a few days given all that I’d eaten last night, but no, apparently the opposite had happened. My stomach must have been stretched.

  I could only hope that Miranda didn’t come into work until later in the day or something, because I couldn’t stand the gurgling in my stomach any more.

  Of course, as was so often the case, I had no such luck.

  Although all the food sitting out on the counter may have made up for it.

  My stomach growled again. Audibly.

  “Good morning Miss McMaster,” Miranda said, with a smirk.

  “Oh, you can just call me Josie.”

  She raised one eyebrow, taking a sip of her tea. “I prefer to keep things on a business level.”

  Great. So now I couldn’t call her Miranda either, and I could not, for the life of me, remember what her last name was.

  “Oh sure. Well, good morning,” I said, smiling politely, walking toward the food. “May I?” I said, motioning toward the delicious smelling array of food.

  She paused like she was mulling it over. Which was ridiculous, since there was enough food for a small army, not to mention the fact that I knew Prince Leo’s flight was hours ago. “Please, help yourself.”

  Finally, sheesh. The smell wafting up was about to kill me. Or at least my stomach. But I had to remind myself to go easy, especially after last night’s food binge, so I settled on a croissant and some fresh fruit. And coffee obviously, lots and lots of coffee.

  “Oh my God!” she cried. “What happened to your hand?” Her eyes were wide and she began to back away slowly like I might be contagious.

  “Oh nothing,” I just fell off the bike yesterday and hurt my elbow a bit. Guess I wrapped the tensor a bit too tight.” I let out a forced little laugh. “You know, McMaster the Disaster and all.”

  She looked at me warily like she couldn’t quite believe one person could possibly be so accident prone.

  She just kept staring at my hand and I didn’t know what to do, I mean, I wanted to move it so she couldn’t just keep staring at it, but I didn’t want to be obvious about hiding it or anything. The only thing to do was to just leave it where it was and hope the swelling would keep going down. Of course she did kind of pretend to be reading the paper, but it still felt an awful lot like she couldn’t help herself from glancing eight million times.

  The silence stretched on.

  “So, what’s the best way to get into town?” I finally asked, quickly taking another bite.

  “I suppose one of the staff could give you a ride, though I’d hate to put anyone out. James, the regular driver has already left with the Prince.” Miranda said. “Why, what do you need?”

  “Nothing really. Just thought I’d go out and about a little bit, check out some of the Prince’s favorite haunts,” I said, then quickly added, “for research.”

  I don’t know why I felt I had to explain myself for every little thing, but she certainly had a way of coaxing information out of a person without even saying a word. I wondered if I should shadow her and try to dissect exactly how she did that. It could prove to be a very valuable skill for a ghost biographer. Then I realized that would mean I would have to actually spend more time with her. Yikes.

  “I see,” she said, not looking up from her paper.

  So I figured if she couldn’t even bring herself to pry her eyes away from her paper, I was done making an effort to be friendly. Sure, if she wanted to talk to me, I’d be more than happy to chat back, but if she was going to make me do all the work, and give back nothing in return, I was just not going to bother. Life is too short. Especially when you’re on a deadline.

  More than ever, I knew my plan to check out Spain was the right thing to do. I mean, I did have to find out about the Prince somehow, after all. And this mini-trip was totally going to be research. Totally.

  I finished eating, then headed out back to see if I could find someone who might help me with a ride. It couldn’t have taken more than half an hour to get here from the outskirts of London last time, hopefully someone would be headed in sometime today anyway.

  I went out to the huge, perfectly manicured yard and saw a man disappear into the garage. I quickly followed.

  “Excuse me,” I yelled. “Hello?”

  The man turned and smiled. Thank goodness.

  “Hi,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Josie. I’m helping out the Prince for a few months.”

  “Yes, of course Miss McMaster. I’m Lance. I manage the property. How are you enjoying your stay so far?”

  He was so cute, with a perfectly groomed, bushy gray moustache like you’d see on an old fashioned detective. I half expected to see him pull out a pipe.

  “Oh, it’s great. I really couldn’t ask for anything more. The food is fantastic and the place is more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

  “Wonderful to hear,” he said, looking positively jolly with his round, rosy cheeks.

  “I was just wondering… what’s the best way to get back to London? I was thinking of heading out for a few days to do a little research.”

  “Ah, of course. Makes sense what with the Prince being away and all.”

  I smiled, feeling even more convinced of the geniu
s of my idea.

  “I was actually just going into the city for the afternoon, I could give you a ride wherever you’d like to go.”

  “That would be fantastic!” I said. “But I don’t want to hold you up. I’d have to get a few things together before we leave.” I bit my lip hoping I wasn’t asking too much of him.

  “Of course dear,” he said. “I’ve got a few things to check out on the car before heading out anyway. It’ll probably take me about fifteen minutes or so.”

  “Perfect,” I said, flashing him a big smile, hoping I could get everything together in such a short amount of time.

  With a getaway to Spain looming on the horizon, nothing could stop me now. I walked as quickly as I could to the house. I mean, I wanted to run, my mind already mentally skimming my wardrobe for what to bring, but I didn’t want to make Lance think he was inconveniencing me when really, I was the one inconveniencing him since he couldn’t possibly take fifteen minutes to check over a car every time he drove into the city.

  I might have even been early getting back to Lance if I hadn’t have gotten lost. Geez, the castle was huge. I was sure I’d taken the correct turn down a hallway that looked exactly like mine, but when I got to my door, it wasn’t glowing under my light.

  I had to retrace my steps back to the kitchen—thankfully, it was deserted—and find my way from there. I wasted half my allotted time.

  I flung open the closet and threw the first things I saw into a carry on bag. I would have loved to pack a whole suitcase, but I didn’t want to look suspicious. Not that I was doing anything wrong, I told myself. It was research, just research.

  I ran back down the stairs, slowing to a walk every time I passed one of the employees, totally nonchalant. I made it back out to the garage, just as my watch told me the fifteen minutes were up.

  But I shouldn’t have worried, because apparently, it actually does take at least fifteen minutes for an older English gentleman to check a car for safety. I swear, I sat in the car for another fifteen minutes, cursing the fact that I could have packed more carefully. Oh well, he was too cute to be angry with for long, and besides, I’d remembered my swimsuit and my laptop, and really, what else was a girl to need at a vacation paradise?

  Not that it was a vacation or anything.

  “Are we all set?” Lance asked, finally climbing into the car.

  Since I’d been all set for a while, I was more than happy to answer, “You bet.”

  A few more minutes of fiddling with various instruments, then seat and mirror adjustments, we were finally off. You’d think the guy was flying a plane or something, for Pete’s sake, but he was doing me such a huge favor just to get me to London, I kept quiet, a smile plastered on my face.

  The ride to town took longer than expected given the fact that Lance drove half the speed limit the whole way. I tried my best not to fidget too much while he chatted about the weather and a few of his favorite spots in London, though he made it quite clear that he much preferred the quiet of the countryside. The country was wonderful, and beautiful, of course, but I’d been getting a little antsy out there, feeling that I was sort of trapped, with no real transportation of my own, you know, other than the bike.

  Lance dropped me at a quaint little hotel that he said was friendly and clean, and headed on his way. I waved from the sidewalk as he drove away, having no intention of actually going into the hotel, I’d just wanted him to think I’d be safe in London for a day or two, checking out the sights.

  Where I was really going, of course, was to get my hands on a rail ticket.

  ~ 5 ~

  I picked up one of those rail passes that lets you go all through Europe, except strangely, it didn’t include England, so an extra pass just for England, and I was set to go. It was a bit more money than expected, but I figured with the amount I was going to be making on the book, I could swing it.

  My train didn’t leave for another forty-five minutes so I sat down and grabbed a coffee, and a British tabloid, you know, just out of curiosity to see how they compared to the tabloids back home. Certainly not because I needed any celebrity gossip.

  But two minutes later, it was gossip I got anyway. And it wasn’t about any old celebrity either. It was about me. Seriously, there was no way I would ever get used to innocently picking up a magazine and finding my face inside the pages.

  JAKE HALL AND DISASTER BRIDESMAID TO WED? the headline screamed.

  My mouth dropped and I had to remind myself that I was in public. Not to mention I was in the tabloid I was reading and there could be photographers anywhere. Of course, no one would probably suspect that I was sitting here in the London train station, but you never knew. Those guys were vultures, and supposedly even worse in the UK, which honestly, I couldn’t really imagine. I quickly put on my sunglasses, just to be sure.

  I scanned the article and was shocked to discover that apparently, the large online betting websites were already holding wagers on when Jake Hall would get engaged. There were even bets for whether or not I would be the bride.

  I mean, how ridiculous, we’d been dating less than a month, and sure, when you’re thrown together under extreme circumstances—and I would definitely consider being in the spotlight at a very high profile wedding to be extreme—things usually moved a little faster than normal.

  But this was ridiculous. We were months, or probably years away from even thinking about getting engaged.

  I mean, weren’t we?

  Suddenly, visions of walking slowly down an aisle full of rose petals, the crowd turning and smiling as I strolled along, filled my mind. My own bridesmaids were there at the front, Jennifer and oddly, yet so perfectly, Mattie in a pink suit jacket, both with smiles so wide I thought they might split their faces in two. Then I saw myself in the most beautiful, princess-like wedding gown, complete with tiara and full veil, stretching to the floor.

  And there was Jake, standing alongside his brother, and some other dude that my mind apparently created because I had no idea who he was. The bouquet of wildflowers was to die for and the backdrop where the minister stood was the most beautiful stained glass church mural I had ever seen.

  No wait, maybe the beach would be better.

  Okay, maybe a beautiful green forest, the sun rays peeking through just enough to make everything sparkle.

  Or how about the top of a cliff?

  I shook the daydreams from my head, knowing that insanity had taken over again. I was a complete fool to think Jake and I could be getting married anytime soon, I mean, sure Jake had said he was ready to settle down, but that certainly didn’t mean marriage right away, did it?

  God, of course not. The whole thing was just another story for the tabloids to sell more papers, and goodness knows the world loves a good story of a commoner landing a guy way above their station.

  Oh God, I was doing it again. I quickly pulled out the Disaster Diary and sat there, thinking until reality began to come crashing down all over again.

  Dear Disaster Diary,

  Remember how hot I looked in that slinky black dress at Angela’s stagette? I mean, I’d been faithfully doing my yoga and I was as toned as ever. And I know, a dress that tight should probably never be worn, but hey, I was working hard for it, practically starving myself for days so I could look that good.

  And I did look damn good, if I do say so myself. I got out on that dance floor and wiggled like nobody’s business, after all, when else would I look that good?

  It was then that I began to notice the stares. Women were covering their faces and whispering to each other when they were looking right at me. Even worse, Men were staring and elbowing each other like they were in on some sort of naughty secret.

  And the rest of the girls at Angela’s stagette just stood there giggling their faces off.

  I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. I mean, I know it wasn’t the dancing, because even though I was definitely having a good time, I was way more conservative than some of the other gir
ls in our party.

  Finally I looked down, and I have to say it was rather shocking to find my white bra and underwear glowing like a beacon, straight through the thin material of the dress.

  I never hated black light so passionately.

  Oh yeah, and thanks so much for the heads up girls.

  Just as I was closing up the diary, they announced the train to Spain. I glanced up and looked straight into the eyes of… a very suspicious looking man in sunglasses—even though it was pretty dim in there—and a moustache that hadn’t been in style since Magnum PI. But he looked away quickly, and I figured he must have just happened to be glancing in my direction at the exact same time as I’d looked up. It happened all the time, right? I tossed the tabloid into the trash, definitely not needing any more fuel for my ridiculous daydreams, and climbed aboard, settling in for a nice long, relaxing ride.

  ~~~

  Several hours later, I woke to realize that I’d been asleep on the shoulder of a rather large man, which, to my dismay, seemed to be enjoying the ride just a little too much. I checked for drool and tried to smile as apologetically as possible without actually letting him think I wanted to start up some sort of train relationship with him. Thankfully, the train was nearing its destination and I would be free in a few short minutes.

  I’d made reservations at the same resort that Prince Leo loved. Thank goodness it was just a regular resort and not just for the super rich, although I’m sure Prince Leo’s room was a heck of a lot nicer than mine was going to be. Not that I would be spending much time in the room anyway. No, the beach was already calling my name.

  I grabbed a cab and checked into the hotel, itching to get out to the sand. I mean, I wanted to explore the locale, of course, but I figured there’d be time enough for that tomorrow. For today, didn’t I deserve a little rest and relaxation?