[Montacroix Royal Family Series 02] - The Prince & the Showgirl by Joann Ross

building, mute proof that she was not the only one finding sleep an elusive target.
    The jet lag that had made her tired before dinner, now had her feeling wired. Her inner clock was definitely off, and Sabrina knew from experience that forcing herself to remain in bed, staring up at the ceiling while her thoughts were whirling, would only make matters worse. Eventually she'd adjust. She just had to give it time.
    Worried that her continued pacing would only wake up Ariel, who was asleep in the adjoining room, Sabrina pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton sweater and slipped out the bedroom door.
    Burke put away the wrench, wiped his grimy hands on an equally grimy rag and grinned his satisfaction. Although he'd hired the best mechanic in Grand Prix racing, he'd always enjoyed working with engines himself.
    Fortunately, as Sabrina had so succinctly stated earlier, rank did indeed have its privileges. And if the Prince of Montacroix chose to tinker with his car's engine, who was going to stop him? Of course it helped that he was very, very good at what he did.
    Burke's mechanical skills were a great deal like his lovemaking talents. He took his time, absolutely refused to rush, and paid extraordinary attention to detail. The satisfaction he felt when he listened to the throaty purr of a well-tuned Ferrari engine was the same pleasure he received when he brought a woman to an earth-shattering orgasm.
    He glanced down at his watch, surprised to find that it was past midnight. It had happened again; he always lost track of time when working.
    "It's late," he said to the other man in the room. "You should go to bed."
    Drew Tremayne, a tall muscular man who'd proved surprisingly helpful in reprogramming the computer that adjusted the fuel lines, wiped his own hands. "My replacement isn't due to show up for another hour."
    "This around-the-clock surveillance is ridiculous," Burke complained.
    Massive shoulders, clad in a black fisherman's sweater designed to blend into the night shadows, lifted, then dropped again. "Caine likes to cover all the bases. That's why he's so good."
    A perfectionist himself, Burke could appreciate such a trait in others. He knew Caine was intelligent, incisive and every bit as single-minded as Burke himself was.
    During the two years the former naval aviator and presidential security agent had been married to his sister, Burke had come to know his brother-in-law well. Caine was not a man with doubts. He was also not a man to overestimate danger. If he felt that these recent threats were legitimate, if he believed the rebels intended to attempt to disrupt the coronation, Burke had no choice but to believe him.
    That didn't mean, however, that he had to like it.
    "From what he says, you're not so bad, yourself," he said.
    The harsh mouth, which Burke had thus far only seen set in a grim straight line, curved upward in a bold grin, revealing a chipped front tooth that gave him a vaguely wolfish look.
    "He's got to say that," Drew said on a slow drawl that attested to seven generations of Tennessee ancestors. "I'm his partner."
    "Which says a lot right there. Caine would never settle for second best." Which was the reason he'd married Chantal, Burke considered.
    "Caine and I have had some high old times together," Drew agreed, with what Burke suspected was typical understatement. He pulled a chocolate bar out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and offered a piece to Burke, who refused.
    Drew was a nice man. Still, Burke realized that his bodyguard's easygoing exterior was camouflage for a quick mind and, if necessary, a willingness to indulge in violence. Burke knew from the way this man handled his Beretta, that he could not be in better hands.
    Still, the idea of even needing a bodyguard continued to sting. Frowning at the idea of having a shadow for the next nine days, Burke glanced idly out the open garage door. When he caught a glimpse of pale blond hair shimmering in the moonlight, he cursed.
    "I thought my