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One of Juan Carlos’s bodyguards drove up in a black SUV, right on time. Poker-faced, he promptly opened the door for her and she got into the backseat as he hoisted her luggage into the cargo space.
As they drove off, she sat quietly in the car, enjoying the sounds of morning, excitement flowing through her veins.
She’d taken Juan Carlos at his word. He would treat her as a professional and so she had nothing to fear and everything to look forward to. Her little heartfelt speech seemed to convince him that she wasn’t looking for romantic involvement. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been hard admitting her failings to him. He’d put her at ease and that was saying something, since she didn’t go around revealing her innermost feelings to anyone but her best friend.
They drove away from the shore, through the streets of Playa del Onda and onto a highway that led inland. “Excuse me. When will we be picking up King Montoro?” she asked Eduardo, the driver-slash-bodyguard.
“His Majesty will be meeting you there,” he said.
Ah...discretion.
“Is it a long drive?”
“Not overly so. We should arrive in less than an hour. Is there anything you need, Princess?”
“No, no. I’m perfectly comfortable.”
She gazed out the window taking in the scenery, where residential streets were soon replaced by more rural-looking spaces. As the minutes ticked by, the groomed vegetation bordering the road gave way to untamed brush and wildflowers. There was a certain neglected beauty to the land that inspired her. The road though was becoming less and less car friendly. The tires spit broken gravel as they traveled along a bumpy country road.
“Sorry, Princess,” Eduardo said. “The road is washed out from here on.”
“Is it much longer?”
“No, just another mile or two.”
And shortly, he turned onto a path and drove through wrought-iron gates clawed by fingers of dead branches and vines. Weeds and overgrown scrub led to a two-story house in desperate need of a good solid paint job. Banging sounds reached her ears and she searched for the source as the car came to a stop in front of the house. Juan Carlos appeared on the porch holding a hammer, his shirt slung open and sweat glistening on his beautiful bronzed chest. His dark hair gleaming under the October sunshine, he gave her a wide welcoming smile.
She sucked oxygen in. If she could slither away in a trembling mass, she would. She could order Eduardo to turn the car around, drive and keep on driving until she forgot the exact chestnut color of Juan Carlos’s eyes, the deep dark shine of his hair and the powerful rock-solid muscle of his body.
She bit her lower lip until it pained her.
As he made his approach, she bucked up and remembered why she was here, and the promise Juan Carlos had made to her. Now, if she could get her heart to stop racing...
“Welcome,” he said, opening the door wide for her. He offered her his hand and helped her out of the car. Eyes shining, his smile broadened. “I hope your trip wasn’t too uncomfortable.”
“No, no. It was fine,” she said, looking beyond him to the house.
“Sorry about my appearance.”
She nearly choked on her own saliva. Was he kidding?
“I found some loose planks on the porch. They could be dangerous.”
“You’re handy with a hammer?”
“You sound surprised. Actually, I had a lot of odd jobs in my younger days. My uncle believed in hard work and I was always employed during my college years.”
“Doing?”
“All sorts of things. Remind me to tell you about the time I worked at a strip club in Miami.”
“You were a stripper?”
The image of him shedding his clothes made her mouth water.
“I didn’t say that. But I sure got a quick education.” Her eye fluttered and he squeezed her hand. “There’s that wink again. I’m very happy you’re here, Portia.”
“It’s not a wink,” she assured him.
He smiled again and released her hand. Breath quietly swooshed out of her mouth.
“Let me assure you, the inside of the house is in better shape than the outside. Bella and James had two bedrooms renovated upstairs and my crew made sure the kitchen and living space are clean and functioning.”
She flinched at the mention of the bedrooms and slid a glimpse at Eduardo, who was removing her luggage, appearing stoic as ever. “That’s...fine.”
She only wished that Juan Carlos would button his shirt so that she could breathe freely again.
