Gamble on Engagement (5 page)

“I would have never survived,” I said,
amazed that he could still function as a normal human being. A
childhood like that would have killed me for sure. Or at least
rendered me so loony that I’d be locked up tight.

But he just shrugged. “It gave me a thick
skin, that’s for sure.” He smiled that ‘knock you straight to your
knees’ smile.

I sighed, smiling. Then immediately hoped he
didn’t notice my lame fan girl moment. God, I was such a dork
sometimes.

But he just went on eating his dinner, and
chatting about the weather.

I had no idea how I’d be able to convey
exactly how charming this guy was in the autobiography, especially
considering I was supposed to be writing it as him, and out and out
saying it would probably not look all that humble. But I couldn’t
let it go unknown. Honestly, he deserved a ghostwriter much more
experienced than me, even if I did have a tiny bit of knowledge
about the paparazzi.

Of course, I couldn’t afford to walk away
from the job, so I decided right then and there that I would work
harder than any other ghostwriter ever had to make the book
perfect.

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
genius 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.