A Royal Mess and Her Knight To Remember by Jill Shalvis Page A

sudden and strong. Which was how he found himself heading back to the house in the middle of the day, with no real reason except to see her.
    The house was quiet. Too quiet. Damn, he was too late. She’d gone, just like she’d come.
    Then a sound came from the kitchen, a horrible sort of caterwauling, and he moved through the house with growing urgency. Someone was hurt. Someone was dying.
    Bursting through the double doors from the living room, Tim took in the sight of Natalia, her back to him, wildly gyrating as if she had a bee in her pants.
    â€œNatalia?”
    She didn’t answer, and that’s when he saw the earphones on her head, attached to his portable CD player hooked on her belt.
    And the noise? It was singing. Natalia’s singing, and it was beyond horrible.
    She had a large bowl tucked under one arm, the other hand whipping whatever was in it into a frenzy. Her entire body shook and shimmied while she sang at the top of her very untalented lungs.
    Leaning against the wall, he shook his head as a big grin split his face. Oblivious to his presence, she continued singing in her godawful pitch, wailing with pure, passionate abandonment. She danced better than she sang—slightly. Her moves were decidedly late eighties, but the wriggle she had going was enough to make his eyes cross with lust. Definitely he liked the wriggle.
    Then she slowed with the music as it came to a halt, and thrust a Saturday Night Fever finger into theair. She had one hip out, legs straight, passion on her face and he couldn’t contain his laugh.
    With a screech, she whirled around, whipping off the earphones. There was a rim of chocolate around her mouth and a spot over her left breast.
    â€œYou just took five years off my life.” She put a hand on her chest. “Maybe ten.”
    â€œDon’t stop on my account.” He pushed away from the wall, still grinning. “Come on. Dance for me some more.”
    â€œI wasn’t dancing for you.” She took in his ear-to-ear grin and narrowed her eyes. “And you know what? I think any employee whose boss who sneaks up on her when she’s making him a truce dessert deserves a raise.”
    â€œDo you?” He tried to remain casual and cool, but her tongue darted out and licked the chocolate off her lips.
    Oh, man, did his body leap to attention at that, and he stared at her, hoping she’d do it again.
    She said something to him, but he was a man—a very weak man at that—and he’d lost his train of thought. And his ability to hear.
    Looking amused now, she opened the top of the blender on the counter and poured in the contents from the bowl. “Are all men as easy as you?”
    He followed her like a puppy, watching her every move. “What?”
    She dipped a finger into the chocolate mix. Brought it to her mouth and slipped it between her lips. Closed her eyes. Moaned a little as she sucked off the chocolate.
    He groaned out loud.
    She opened her eyes. “See? Easy.”
    He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
    She put the top on the blender and contemplated the buttons. “I wanted this to be a surprise.”
    What she said slowly sank in. Was it a goodbye dessert? God. All the heat vanished—well, a good chunk of it—as the protective feelings he’d had for her from the very first moment reared up and bit him again. “About your leaving…where will you go after the wedding?”
    â€œWell, what do you know. Progress.” She was still studying the buttons on his machine. “You admit you believe I was going to go to a wedding in New Mexico the day after tomorrow.”
    Was going to go.
    â€œWhich means,” she said, lifting her gaze and meeting his, “that you must believe I’m a princess. When did that happen?”
    â€œUh…”
    Her gaze shuttered. Just like that. “Oh, I see. You don’t. Not really.”
    â€œNatalia—”
    â€œNo. No