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His grin only widened. He snatched her finger and kissed it. “Of course, I agreed. Come now, Louise, what are you doing out here? We’ve finally arrived, and we need to unpack. Don’t make me stand around all day.”
Her eyes thinned dangerously. Henrik laughed again.
“Oh, very well, then. I’ll not trouble you a minute longer. I will need to slip down for a bit of dinner, though. Jet lag always makes me hungry.” He’d gotten over his jet lag from their arrival the day before, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. If things went well, he hoped to find the woman again and at least explain himself.
“Just as long as you don’t reveal who you are. We don’t want any more of a scandal over this situation than there already is.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, holding the door for her while she re-entered. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the desperate woman’s face from his mind.
The tabloids reveled in capturing the latest image of Prince Henrik of Einvar with his most recent date, but he made it a point to never be seen on a magazine or newspaper article with the same girl twice. He supposed that was what had gotten him into this mess. The memory blazed through his mind as he entered the elevator and experienced the pull in his stomach as it carted him to the lobby.
Father had shoved stacks of magazines at him with the headline blaring what a joke Henrik was.
“This is the reputation you’re developing?” Father had snarled. “Do you care nothing for the future of your country?”
Father had disparaged him with many insults over the years, but implying that he didn’t care about Einvar was something else. Recently, he and Mother threatened to give the throne to Henrik’s cousin, something they’d never done before.
Henrik’s entire life had been directed on this course. He was nearly twenty-five, and tradition held that the heir would ascend the throne by that age. So the fact that Father had made such a threat lit a flame beneath his feet, and here he was.
The elevator pinged and the door slid open. The lobby was elaborate and classic. Marble columns propped up the high ceiling, and tinsel was draped across a decadent water feature. Bright hibiscus and bird of paradise offered splashes of color and were accentuated by a tropically decorated, towering Christmas tree. Lights twinkled from its boughs, and with brightly colored ornaments and bulbs that strayed from the typical red and green, the tree added a tropically festive ambiance.
The view from the resort’s wide, front entrance was nothing short of spectacular. Einvar had no palm trees or gleaming ocean, not like the exquisite painting offered here. It was a shame that cars passing on the street between the resort and the beach had to taint the view, but Henrik couldn’t help being impressed by Clearwater. He wondered if the beaches lived up to their name.
Letting the view go, he scanned the area. The woman he’d spoken with had worn stylish business attire that accentuated her curvy hips and thin waist. With a shock of vivid red hair tumbling to her shoulders, she’d be impossible to miss. Was she a guest here? He might have thought so except Louise had been extremely specific that no one but the hotel staff was allowed to so much as sneeze on the ninth floor, and if that red head had wandered there, something told Henrik her presence hadn’t been by accident.
Still, he saw no sign of her swaying hips or strokable skin. Stomach grumbling, he made for the restaurant where he and Louise had eaten the day before. Louise had been skeptical, but Henrik had insisted. No one had approached or appeared to recognize him the way they would have back home. He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or relieved.
Henrik waited near the restaurant opening for the hostess to seat him when giggling carried to him like a familiar song. A pair of teenage girls twittering behind a magazine lowered it and glanced at him. He recognized the edition at once. Of all the headlines, this was one of the worst. What kind of journalist rhymed their headline?
A friend joined the other two. The girls peered at their magazine, and then back to him.
“Is that—?”
“It is. It’s him!”
“It’s Prince Henrik!”
Before he knew it, the three teenage girls swarmed around him. Others followed, and soon phones were hiding faces. Henrik couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even set foot in the restaurant.
“Prince Henrik! Will you sign my magazine?”
“Can I be your next date?”
The girls broke into another round of giggles, slapping one another on the shoulders. If this were another instance, he’d consider flirting, but for now, he needed somewhere to hide. One day in America, and he was already heading for hot water. So much for keeping a low profile.
He glanced around frantically, looking for somewhere he could go that the girls couldn’t follow. Through the gathering crowd, a woman with tulip-red hair tied at the base of her neck and wearing a hip-hugging pencil skirt and green blouse stared at him with wide eyes. It was her. Would she help him?
He had to try.
“Excuse me,” he said, breaking through the crowd and making straight for her.
4
From the look of things, Prince Henrik was every bit the womanizer she’d read him to be. He was being surrounded by eager girls and chittering people with cell phones, all exclaiming over his identity.
And he was making straight for her.
Lily pressed the elevator button twenty more times, praying for the box to hurry up and reach the lobby so she could hitch a ride back up to the Elir’s suite on the tenth floor. If she hadn’t gotten a text from Tammy to stop by the front desk and pick up the day’s mail, Lily would have already been there.
