To Catch a Princess (4 page)

It always amazed Shea how much people would pay for something they could never share with anyone else.

Once they had reached the warehouse, he provided final instructions to his crew.

“Stay low and clear of trouble. I’ll be wiring your payments in the next few days along with details of where to meet for our next job.”

Hammer and Fly nodded and moved speedily to their cars, but Mouse hesitated.

“Something wrong?” Shea asked, sensing that something was off with his normally calm associate.

“That was close, Heartman. When I heard those sirens coming at me, I thought we were done.”

Shea understood. Mouse had family, unlike Shea, but up until now, that hadn’t seemed to faze his wheel man. “No worries. It worked just like we planned.”

The door of the warehouse squeaked and groaned as it rose, drawing their attention. They had little time to delay.

“Is something up, Mouse?” he persisted. “You seem a little…itchy.”

Mouse shook his head vehemently. “Not really.”

“If you want out, just say so. I can get another wheel man for the next job.” Shea didn’t need anyone on the team who was either distracted or didn’t want to be there.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll be there. You can count on me,” the other man said, and hurried to his vehicle, a nondescript mini car similar to thousands of others on the streets of Amsterdam.

As Mouse pulled away slowly, Shea hurried to his own car, a souped-up German coupe that would let him make good time on the roadways. If all went well, he would be in Paris in less than six hours.

And if all went well in the next couple of weeks, he would be done with this way of life for good.

Chapter 6

Monte Carlo, Monaco

En route

Despite his family’s wealth, Peter had never flown in a private jet.

It was a completely different experience, and one he wasn’t quite sure he liked. But then again, he wasn’t a fan of flying under any circumstances.

Logic told him this was a far safer mode of transportation than a car or train, and that crashing was less likely than getting hit by lightning, but he couldn’t keep from imagining that every little bump or whine of the engines was the beginning of a death plummet.

As the plane banked to one side and the cabin rattled with a bit of turbulence, he clenched his hands on the arms of his seat and gritted his teeth.

He must have made some kind of noise because Tatiana looked up from the papers she had been reading for the last hour or so. “Looking green, much?”

“I’m fine,” he managed to bite out past the tension in his jaw.

She grinned with amusement, then contained it. Unbuckling, she walked to the seat that faced his and sat. “Took me a bunch of flights before I got used to it, too.”

“Feel like a fool,” he admitted, thinking that he was losing hero points with her in a major way.

She laid her hand on the taut muscles of his thigh and smoothed it reassuringly. “Let’s get your mind off the flight.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, one thought paramount about how she could accomplish that.

As she realized where his mind had gone, she blushed, and waved her hands. “No way, not the mile high club.”

“Hell, no. Alexander would shoot me just for thinking about it,” he kidded, and actually managed a chuckle, but his comment only brought additional color to Tatiana’s cheeks.

“You thought about it? Really?” she asked with a slight stammer.

The plane did another little bounce, but the last thing he was thinking about now was dying. All he could think about was Tatiana and him in the bedroom on the plane, making love.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Tatiana. I’d have to be dead not to think about it,” he confessed.

She swallowed hard and reached for the service button built into the arm of the chair. Calling for her security detail? But a moment later the young attendant who had been discreetly sitting in a chair near the cockpit approached them.

“Is it too early to serve dinner, Kelly?” Tatiana asked, slipping into her more formal demeanor with the attendant.

“Not at all, Princess Tatiana. What is your pleasure tonight? There is a wonderful pasta with scallops and shrimp, filet mignon with scalloped potatoes, or a vegetarian lasagna,” the young woman said and glanced between the two of them.

As it had with Alexander the day before, Peter’s stomach growled noisily at the mention of food. He had been running around all day and hadn’t had a chance to grab anything to eat, not even one of the bags of snacks he always munched on.

“Hungry?” Tatiana asked with a quirk of her full lips.

“Ravenous. I didn’t get a chance to eat before boarding.”

Tatiana said to the hostess, “The seafood pasta sounds delicious, Kelly.”

Peter glanced at the young woman and asked, “Would it be too much to ask for the steak and the lasagna?”

“Not at all, Detective Roman. Would you prefer red or white with the meal?”

He shrugged, not particular, and asked Tatiana, “Do you have a preference?”

“I know you’re supposed to have white with fish, but I love the heartiness of reds. Please pick a nice one for us, Kelly.”

The young woman smiled and walked away to fulfill their requests. After instructing the chef waiting in the galley area, she returned with a cart where she had the open bottle of wine. She poured a splash in the first glass and handed it to Peter.

He swirled it around and examined the fingers forming on the glass. Then he slurped up some of the wine, letting the air enhance the flavor of the wine.

“Wonderful, Kelly. Thank you,” he said and returned the glass.

She poured him more of the cabernet then served a glass for the princess.

Tatiana took a sip and likewise approved. “Excellent. Thank you, Kelly.”

The smells of dinner were starting to permeate the air in the cabin and as they sat there, quietly sipping their wine, Kelly set places for them at the table where Tatiana had been working earlier.

“Henri, the chef, is amazing. I hope you’ll like your meals,” Tatiana said, a hint of humor in her voice.

“A growing boy like me needs his nourishment,” he kidded right back.

She made a circular motion around her waist and her crystal blue eyes glittered with merriment. “Definitely growing, all around.”

Because he wanted to see that blush on her face again, he said, “Don’t worry, Tatiana. I know just the way to work off the calories.”

The color on her cheeks hinted that she was totally onboard with how to help him work off those calories.

She surprised him by saying with a grin, “Sadly, Peter, having sex barely works off more calories than walking up a flight of stairs.”

Peter grinned back and leaned forward, pitched his voice low, and said, “Trust me, Tatochka. Making love with me will leave you breathless.”

She nibbled her bottom lip and her nipples tightened into hard points even under the winter-weight v-neck she wore. There may be hope for him, after all.

“Down boy,” she said, clearly flustered.

He held a hand up in a gesture of surrender, but he was pleased with how he had affected her. They were both spared further comment by Kelly’s approach, pushing a second serving cart with their meals.

“Time to eat,” she said, unbuckled, and walked across the narrow distance to the small table, where she buckled in again.

Peter followed and sat across from her, and the hostess efficiently served their meals, then returned to the galley. Judging from the clink of forks and china, she and the chef were sharing a bite, as well.

The filet was perfectly done and seasoned, and accompanied by peas and scalloped potatoes. In a gratin dish set in the middle of the table, the sauce still bubbled around the edges of the cheese-topped vegetarian lasagna.

“Want some?” he asked, and motioned to the gratin dish.

“No, thanks,” she said, and judging from the quiet as they ate, she was as hungry as he was. Or maybe still hiding that she was hot for him…hopefully. He refilled their glasses halfway through the meal and when they finished, Kelly returned to clear the table and offer an assortment of desserts.

“So many tasty ones,” he murmured, his sweet tooth kicking in big time.

“Let me guess. You’d like two,” Tatiana said with an impish smile.

He would, but bit back his desire for the sweets. “Actually, I can’t decide between the crème brûlée and the molten chocolate cake.”

“Both are quite good,” Kelly said.

Tatiana seemed to settle it for them. “If you could bring both, as well as a bowl of strawberries? A bottle of Dom Perignon, too.”

“Of course, Princess,” she said, and quickly went to work fulfilling the request.

“Thank you,” he said, but Tatiana shook her head.

“I just figure if you’re stuffed and well-lubricated, it’ll help you sleep for the rest of the flight instead of worrying about whether we’re about to crash.” She winked.

“Or thinking about getting sexy with you,” he teased, bringing a fresh stain of color to her cheeks.

After finishing both desserts and two glasses of champagne, he was feeling decidedly relaxed and all thoughts of crashing had disappeared. When he yawned, she pointed in the direction of the bedroom. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ve got at least six hours before we land in Nice.”

“What about you?” He would feel guilty taking the bed and leaving her to sleep in one of the airplane seats.

“Still wide awake. I plan on finishing off the champagne and a good book. Then I’ll stretch out in one of the sleeper seats.” She jerked her head in the direction of another set of oversized seats a few feet away.

“I’d like to take your notes on the security systems with me. I want to look at them again before we do the walk around tomorrow afternoon.”

“Not a problem.” She rose and pulled the folder she had been reviewing earlier from her bag, and handed it to him. “Tony will be meeting us and can answer any questions you have. He’s also arranged for you to have a carry permit and weapon while you’re in Monaco.”

“Thank you. I feel naked without it.”

She smiled and quirked her lips in a gesture that was becoming a familiar sign of either disbelief or imminent teasing. “Naked, or lacking?”

He chuckled and rose from the seat. “Lacking, eh. Wouldn’t you like to find out.”

He chucked her under the chin to close her mouth as it dropped open.

“Good night, Princess. Dream of me.”

Her muttered curse chased him into the bedroom, but once he was in there, he wondered if maybe this wasn’t a good time to explain who he was. The teasing and relaxed feel during the dinner and afterward certainly hinted at the fact that she might be in the kind of mood to handle news like that.

The confined space of the airplane was good in two ways. First, she couldn’t run off anywhere and avoid the discussion. Second, she had to maintain decorum in front of Kelly, the chef, and the pilots up front. Plus, he doubted she’d toss him out of the plane without a parachute. Putting the file on the top of the bed, he took a deep breath to brace himself, and walked back out to where Tatiana had stretched out in one of the sleeper seats, a glass of champagne at her side along with some strawberries. Her head was buried between the covers of a romance novel and she raised her head as he stepped back out.

She gave him a puzzled look when he approached and sat beside her.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“I know about the marriage bargain that your parents made with Grand Duke Roman Alexandrovich,” he began. She dog-eared her page in the novel and closed it, her demeanor deceptively calm, though he could see her eyes had grown turbulent.

“How do you know about that stupid plan?”

“Because I’m
Velikiy Knjaz
Pyotr Romanovich, the only son of the Grand Duke.”

She waved her hands and shook her head, making a face. “You’re the prince? No way.”

“I never kid about things like this,” he replied, and met her gaze dead-on so she would realize that he wasn’t kidding.

Hot color flooded her face, but she retained control, staring silently at him for a long time.

At length, she leaned toward him, and said in low tones, “All this time we’ve known you, that
I’ve
known you, and you’ve been
lying
to me about who you are?”

“It’s a complicated situation, Tatochka.”

“Do
not
call me that. Only friends or family call me that, and you are neither right now.” She surged from the chair and stalked a few steps away, contained by the size of the plane, just as he had hoped. She raked her fingers through her ebony hair and held them there for a moment before allowing the thick strands to fall back into place.

She whirled to face him. “Why? And why tell me now?”

He drew in a breath. “The first why is complicated. I hated having my life plastered all over the papers.”

“You mean like when my college roommate and supposed friend stole my diary and sold it off to one of the tabloids?”

He finally remembered the details of the incident and understood now how that had made her distrustful of others. How, as royals, too many people wanted to be their “friends” for ulterior motives.

“I would never—”

“You already did, Detective. A lie of omission is still a lie isn’t it? So why are you coming clean now?”

“It’s only fair you know exactly who’s involved in this crazy-ass marriage arrangement. And I also wanted to let you know that I have no intention of going ahead with it, even though our parents are suddenly deciding to push on it.”

She stared at him and her shoulders notched down a fraction. “Good, because I’m not doing it either. Especially with a man who lies like the proverbial rug. A man I obviously can’t trust.”

“I never meant to hurt you or lie to you. I never wanted that,” he said and rose from the seat. He walked to her and cupped her cheek, hating how she flinched from his touch.

“I was just trying to protect myself from—” He cut off. No sense going there. “My decision had nothing to do with you,” he said, and swiped his thumb across her lips before heading to the bedroom. “You
can
trust me, Princess. Believe that.”

…

Tatiana's lips tingled as if she had been thoroughly kissed. She battled her reaction as Peter shuffled off to the bedroom and shut the door. Jumping up to storm back and forth in the airplane’s tiny lounge, she considered the bombshell Peter had just dropped.

He wasn’t just a cop or a commoner. And damn it, he was still just too damned sexy for his own good.

But worse, he was the only son of a Grand Duke. Peter Roman was none other than Prince Pyotr Romanovich.
The man she was supposed to marry
.

Suddenly, she gasped. Alexander!
Damn
him. Her brother had known about Peter all along! Even though he had told her he knew the identity of the man her parents had arranged for her to marry, it had never occurred to her that she would know him personally, much less that her old-fashioned brother would allow him to accompany her on this trip. Now that she thought about it, Alexander had been throwing them together at every opportunity for the last few years.

What had he been thinking? She could understand that he had promised to keep Peter’s identity secret, but why throw them together like this? Especially now. Did he hope that they would get all romantic in Monaco and go ahead with the whole insane marriage thing?

No. Alexander had never been that Machiavellian. If he had wanted her and Peter to get to know each other, he would have said so. But why hadn’t she guessed at Peter’s royal lineage before now? His close friendship with her brother, the thinly disguised name, his regal if rumpled bearing—the clues had been staring her in the face all along.

Damn, how could she be so dense?