âDid you mean it?â Carly asked
Sean bent to the task of changing his flat tire, only then realizing sheâd followed him into the pouring rain when heâd left the car. âMean what?â
âAbout this being just the beginningâ¦â Her eyes were huge, her body taut withâ¦nerves?
âI meant it,â he said with an ease that no longer startled him. âNow go stay warm in the car.â
Instead, she went down on her knees in the dirt beside him, reaching out to stroke away a strand of wet hair from his eyes. âYou look very sexy all wet, Sean OâMara.â
âYeah?â
âOh, yeah.â She bit her full lower lip and Sean promptly dropped the jack.
âIf I help with the tire,â she whispered in his ear, âweâll get done faster, which would leave us at least a couple of hoursâ darkness left to doâ¦well, whatever we please.â
Sean broke the world record changing the tire, with Carlyâs soft laughter egging him on.
âMy, my,â she crooned, handing him the wrench. âA man who can use his tools. I like that.â
Dear Reader,
So how many times did you dream of being a princess? Come on, tell me true. I did. Often. Especially when I was little, but mostly that was because I wanted the tiara. As I grew up, the tiara took a back seat to getting Prince Charming. In A Prince of a Guy, my heroine, a princess in her own right, wants Prince Charming, too, but she wants him to be a ânormalâ guy and look at her as if sheâs a ânormalâ woman. She gets a whole lot more than that when love enters the fray!
Iâm honored to be kicking off RED-HOT ROYALS for Harlequin, and hope you enjoy the entire series, including my 2-in-1 ROYAL DUETS in October!
Happy reading,
Jill Shalvis
P.S. You can write me at www.jillshalvis.com or P.O. Box 3945, Truckee, CA 96160-3945.
IT TOOK Sean OâMara a full five minutes to realize he was being taken advantage of, maybe six. His only defense was that heâd worked until past midnight and it was barely five in the morning, leaving him bleary-eyed and bewildered.
âYouâreâ¦what?â he asked again slowly, trying to make sense of the whirlwind that had barged into his house.
âIâm going to England for two weeks.â His sister deposited her four-year-old daughter, Melissa, on the floor of the foyer where Sean stood. The little girl immediately vanished into his kitchen. His sister vanished, too, only to return twice, each time with a huge load from her car.
Not a good sign. âEngland?â he asked, getting less groggy by the passing minute.
âYep.â She said this as if it was only across the street from his Santa Barbara, California home, instead of across the globe.
âI canât tell you how much your help means to me, Sean.â She staggered beneath an armful. âMelissaâll be no trouble, I promise, and Iâll finish the design job ASAP.â
Melissa, no trouble? Ha! That had to be some sort of oxymoron. Exhaustion was quickly replaced by a gnawing sense of urgency to talk his sister out of this. He couldnât be responsible for a child for two long weeks, he just couldnât. He had work, he had a lifeâ¦okay, maybe not a life outside of work, but he did have work, plenty of it.
Besides, and most importantly here, he had no idea how to care for a kid.
âOh, and donât forget,â Stacy warned. âShe still needs a little help in the bathroom with the, um, paperwork.â
âWhat? Wait a sec.â He rubbed his temples. He yawned. He stretched, but he didnât wake up in his own bed, which meant he wasnât dreaming. âYou canât just leave her here.â
âWhy not? Youâre responsible. You know how to cook. Youâre kind. Well, mostly. What could go wrong?â
âAnything! Everything!â He struggled for proof and hit the jackpot right in front of him. âI canât even keep goldfish,â he said earnestly. âThey die. Look.â He pointed to the ten-gallon glass aquarium sitting on a table in the entranceway. Empty. âI forget to feed them. So really, that knocks out both the responsible and the kind thing all in one shot.â
Stacyâs smile was indulgent. âYouâre going to be fine. Oh, and donât forget to put the toilet seat down or sheâllâ¦go fishing.â
âButâ¦â Sean craned his neck to peek into his kitchen. On the floor sat a sweet-looking, innocent-seeming child of four years.
He knew better.
Melissa, no matter how golden-curled, was no innocent. She could create a mess faster than he could blink. In her short lifetime, sheâd bitten him three times, cut his hair twiceâwithout permissionâand peed on his bed only fifteen minutes before a hot date.
The little monster in question, the one who would be no trouble, looked right at him and smiled guilelesslyâ¦as she tipped her sipper cup upside down, shaking grape juice all over both her and the clean floor.
The ensuing purple sticky splatters caused her to giggle uproariously.