Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door (13 page)

They were shown to a table at the interior of the restaurant, away from the big windows that looked out onto the lake. That was a bit of a disappointment, since the view was five-star.

Even as Holly was resigning herself to a seat indoors, Nate was asking their hostess, whom he of course knew, “Would it be a problem, Danielle, if my friend and I were to dine outside this evening?”

“Not at all, Nate.”

Only a couple of other tables were occupied on the deck, and the people sitting at those were sipping drinks rather than dining. But a smiling waiter brought them a couple of menus a few minutes later and took their drink order. Nate requested an imported beer. Holly went with white wine.

“This is a lovely spot for dinner, Nate. Thank you.”

“The view is hard to compete with, but the food is pretty good, too.” Curiosity had him asking, “What kind of places do you frequent back home? Are you still a fan of pepperoni pizza?”

“I am.” She laughed. “Not that there are many places in Morenci that serve the kind found here in the States.” Holly leaned closer and in a low voice confided, “For my sixteenth birthday, my grandmother had a pizzeria send me a dozen pies via airmail.”

“I’m thinking they probably weren’t still hot when they arrived.”

“They were frozen. I ate one a week for three months, despite my mother’s warnings that the grease would make my face break out.”

“So, if you don’t hang out at the local pizzeria, where do you go to eat?”

“I don’t dine out very often,” she admitted. “Not at restaurants at least. Mostly, when I’m not eating in, I’m at some sort of official function, a charity ball or state dinner. The food is wonderful, of course, but … it’s not the same.”

“That’s because it’s work.”

She glanced up. “Yes. Exactly.”

“That must be hard.”

“It’s … expected.”

“Doesn’t make it less difficult.”

“No.”

The waiter arrived with their drinks and took their entrée orders. They’d decided to
forgo an appetizer since their meals came with salads and a cup of the day’s soup. They both went with blackened lake trout.

Once they were alone again, Nate asked, “So, where do you and Phillip go on an evening out?”

“Actually, Phillip and I rarely appear in public unless it’s at official events.”

Hence the swirl of rumors regarding the serious nature of their relationship, he guessed.

“So, you dine in?”

“Yes. At the palace. And …”

“His home?” he finished for her.

Holly nodded, her gaze riveted to the lake. The sun was just starting to lower over the bay, but he doubted that was what captivated her attention. “In addition to his family’s estates in Morenci, he has a lovely villa in the south of France.”

Despite her rather unimpressed tone, Nate’s head felt as if it would explode. He wasn’t going to try to compete with the guy. There was no reason to, but still …

A small voice reminded him that Holly didn’t love Phillip. As much as Nate wanted to latch onto that, he couldn’t help wondering if she could be happy living a different
lifestyle. One slower-paced and far more casual. And not just for a couple of weeks, but 24/7? Even as he was telling himself that some things just weren’t meant to be, he was recalling her expression when he’d given her the fishing pole.

Before either of them could speak again, a woman appeared at their table. She was older, a little on the plump side, and carried in her hands a little dog that was outfitted with more bling than most Hollywood starlets wore on Oscar night.

There was a good bit of the South in her drawl when she said, “I hate to interrupt your dinner, young lady, but I just have to say what a striking resemblance you bear to Princess Hollyn of Morenci.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Holly replied, neither acknowledging her true identity nor denying it.

“Oh, my gosh! And you talk like her, too!” the woman exclaimed with such excitement it caused her little dog to start yipping.

The other diners glanced their way. Nate’s stomach pitched and rolled. This was it. She was exposed. Holly, on the other hand, appeared unaffected.

In a confidential tone, she said, “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“Yes?” The older woman leaned in eagerly.

“I’m a celebrity impersonator.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“No. I make a good living at it, too. I think it’s my accent that clinches it for me. I’ve worked for years to perfect it.”

“It’s very good. You had me fooled.”

“Not to brag, but my agent tells me I’m the best of the bunch.”

“Oh, you are,” the other woman gushed. “You absolutely are.”

“Thank you for saying so. It’s always good to hear from an objective person. My mother, of course, thinks I’m spot on.” Holly shrugged. “But she’s my mother. What else is she supposed to think?”

The woman nodded before casting a sheepish glance Nate’s way. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your dinner.” Her gaze back on Holly, she said, “I was going to ask for your autograph and to see if you wanted to take a picture with me.”

“Really? I’m so flattered.”

“But since you’re not who I thought you
were …” The woman’s cheeks flamed scarlet. “I mean, I’d be happy to have my picture taken with you anyway.”

“That’s kind, but I think you should aim your camera lens at that incredible view.” Holly pointed to the lake, where the sun was starting to set. “It’s far more memorable than I am, believe me.”

“I think I’ll do just that,” the woman agreed. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For?”

“Being so gracious. I’ve approached real celebrities who weren’t half as kind and patient as you are, and you’re not anyone.” She coughed delicately. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“I do. And the pleasure was mine.”

Holly was grinning from ear to ear when the woman left.

“I’d say you handled that encounter like a pro,” Nate told her.

“I was feeling inspired.” Holly shrugged then. “Besides, if I had been rude or standoffish, it only would have raised her suspicions.”

“Is that the only reason you weren’t rude or standoffish?” he asked.

“Of course not. People are curious. Most
of them, such as that woman, mean no harm. They are what you would call starstruck.”

Nate grinned. “You make a good celebrity impersonator, by the way. Do you do that often?”

“Actually, that was a first for me.”

“Really?”

“I’m not often without a royal escort. Still, it seemed like a good idea in this instance,” Holly explained. “After all, she had me pegged. Flat-out denial only would have made it worse. This way, she feels like she’s part of the deception.”

It was hard not to marvel at Holly’s cleverness and composure. “She didn’t even want to snap your photograph.”

“Exactly.”

He liked her all the more for the jaunty smile she beamed at him afterward. There was so much of that young girl he remembered still inside her.

Their drinks arrived along with a basket of freshly baked rolls and their salads.

Nate raised his beverage in a toast. “To a rising star.”

Holly clinked her wineglass against his beer glass, but she set it back on the table without taking a sip. She seemed circumspect
when she said, “I am hardly a star. I was born into my position and the corresponding celebrity. I’ve done nothing to earn either.”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, the position part, I’ll give you. You were born into the role of princess. Call it fate or luck or whatever. But how you choose to act in public and use celebrity is entirely up to you.”

“It’s a lot of responsibility.” He saw her swallow and her shoulders sagged a little, as if bowing under the weight of that responsibility.

“It’s a lot of power, too,” he said quietly.

“I have no power, Nate. I can’t even decide my own future.” Her laughter was surprisingly sardonic. She must have realized it. She added in a tone more suited to a civics teacher, “The royal family’s role in Morenci is purely ceremonial and has been for more than a century. We don’t set policy or make laws.”

“But you still wield a lot of influence, Holly. It’s up to you how you choose to use it. I think you know that, which is why you’ve been a voice for orphans in some of the world’s poorest countries and championed
access to education for girls in cultures that traditionally reserve that right only for boys.”

“You’ve been reading up on me, I see.” She leveled the accusation playfully, but a hint of embarrassment stained her cheeks as she reached for one of the warm rolls.

“I’ve followed your life over the years,” he admitted. Odd, but a day ago no one would have been able to force Nate to make such a confession. Now, he continued, “I wondered how you were and what your life was like when the public wasn’t watching. I wondered, you know, if you were okay.”

In the images of her that he’d seen on television or in print she’d seemed so reserved, so … lifeless.

“You were worried about me?” She broke off a piece of roll.

Dangerous territory, he decided, but he answered truthfully. “I was.” As mad as he’d been, and as hurt, he’d also been concerned.

“I wondered if you were all right as well. And if … if you’d forgiven me.”

He hadn’t. Until she’d returned. Holding a grudge made even less sense than holding on to the tender feelings he had for her.
But those tender feelings, he knew, would be much harder to set free.

“I’m not mad anymore. You did what you felt you had to do, maybe even what was for the best. But I wish you’d sent that letter you told me you’d written. I wish I would have heard it from you rather than seeing you in a televised special on European royalty not long after you’d turned sixteen.”

She pinched her eyes closed. “I am sorry.”

“It’s the past, Holly.” He reached across the table, found her hand and gave it a squeeze. “What do you say we just concentrate on the here and now.”

“The here and now,” she repeated. She reached for her wine, and this time after their glasses clinked together, she took a sip.

With both the past and the future put out of mind, they enjoyed the rest of their meal. The conversation centered mainly on small talk, but it veered into personal territory enough that it was impossible not to enjoy himself. She was fun and funny, smart and interesting. She was, in short, every bit as remarkable as he remembered her being.

Once they left the restaurant, his hand slipped to the small of her back. Nate had to remind himself this wasn’t a date. Indeed,
the very reason he’d taken Holly out was to avoid being alone with her. Of course, now, night had fallen and they were heading back to his quiet cottage. Together.

The easy conversation they’d enjoyed during dinner was long gone by the time he pulled the truck to a stop and came around to open Holly’s door.

“Thank you again for dinner,” she said once they were inside the cottage.

They both glanced uncertainly toward the stairs. “You’re welcome.”

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll let me treat you.”

She’d offered tonight. He’d refused. It wasn’t pride, or even the fact that she was female that had caused him to do so. Rather, the old-fashioned belief drilled into him by his mother that when one had a guest under one’s roof, one picked up the tab.

Just as his mother had drummed it into Nate’s head that a man never pressed or pressured a woman.

“Maybe,” he replied, to stave off an argument.

She nodded. “I … I’m rather tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

“It’s been a long day,” he agreed.

“Especially for you. I only woke up around
noon.” It was half past nine now. “You were up much earlier, I would imagine.”

“That I was.”

“Nate …” She took a step toward him.

He resisted doing the same. That foot and half of space between them was the only thing keeping his hormones in check. “Good night, Holly.”

Holly nodded in understanding. “Good night.”

She wasn’t halfway up the stairs before Nate knew he would be sleeping outside on the deck.

It was the only place he trusted himself to be with Holly under his roof.

And didn’t it just figure, as miserable as he already felt, the first itchy welts from the poison ivy had started to appear on his calves.

Holly didn’t know how she managed it, but she spent the following night within easy reach of Nate Matthews without, well, ever
reaching
for him.

To think her mother felt Holly needed to work on her self-control. Olivia would be amazed—and, no doubt, relieved.

Of course, it helped immensely that after
that first night when she and Nate dined together, they barely saw one another. Friday morning, she awoke to find him gone, and a blanket and pillow taking up space on one of the deck’s lounge chairs. He’d slept there, she knew. Because she’d heard his footsteps on the stairs not only coming up, but also going down a moment later as she’d lain awake holding her breath and foolishly wishing he would tap at her door.

That evening, he came home well after dark, although he thoughtfully had one of the island’s delis deliver a meal for her to eat. She dined alone on the deck, trying to take delight in the view, but missing his company.

The public thought she had it made. She felt no bitterness over that fact. Now. Interestingly, nor did she feel the old sense of resignation.

She’d come to Heart Island for a last reprieve. Literally, for a final bit of time in the sun before taking on the latest yoke of royal responsibility: marriage and the whole business of begetting heirs.

Holly had thought that coming here would make it easier to accept her future. But if anything, seeing Nate again and stealing romantic moments that both of them likely
would live to regret had only made it more difficult.

Given the way he was avoiding her, she figured he felt the same way.

It didn’t help when Nadine arrived at the cottage on Saturday, Holly’s final night. The other woman came, ostensibly, to deliver the keys to the place Holly had rented on the other side of the bay, even though Holly wouldn’t be able to check in until the following afternoon. But the way she glanced around spoke volumes. She perceived Holly as a threat.