Royal Opposites by Lori Crawford Page B

convinced to throw her nice, safe life right out the window. She hoped it wasn’t too late to reverse the situation.
    “Look, Tom, that’s not really necessary.” She began pacing the living room. Maybe if she never learned who he was, she could return to Los Angeles and see how much of her tattered life could be salvaged. “I think it’s time we called it a day. The cops have no proof I did anything. I’ll keep your name out of it.” She laughed.

    “What am I talking about? I don’t even know your name. I think it’s best we keep it that way.”
    “I am Saracen Tomas de Raffertias du Bacouer. Crown prince of Rafferstonia, due to be crowned king in twelve weeks.”
    “Why’d you go and…what?” Joan’s steps faltered mid tread.
    She spun to face him. He couldn’t have said what she thought he said. Did he? “What’s this about a prince?”
    Tom relaxed and dug into his pancakes with a precision she remembered noticing at lunch yesterday. The man had turned eating into a near art form.
    “It’s my title. For a little longer anyway.” He elaborated after swallowing the bite he placed in his mouth.
    Joan managed a few blinks while she stared at him. Trying to process everything. Make sense of it all. It must have been obvious that her brain hadn’t quite caught up yet because he just waited. He continued eating, but didn’t elaborate any further. She blew out a breath and gave him a wry smile.
    “Of course it is.” Exhausted, Joan flopped back into the chair she vacated a few moments before his unbelievable declaration. But what reason did he have to lie to her? It’s not like he’d gain anything from telling her this. If the man needed to conceal his identity, why would he tell her he was a prince? It didn’t make sense. Unless…
    She swallowed hard and looked around their opulent surroundings. No wonder the man hadn’t batted an eyelash at the cost of, not one, but two suites at a Ritz Carlton. He must be used to this and so much more. She remembered his repeated assurances that he had other bank accounts. Of course he did. Her concern for his finances must have given him a good chuckle. At least he’d had the good manners not to laugh in her face. He was royalty. Good manners must come along with the package.
    “Joan, say something.”
    Like what? At the moment she was speechless. Of all the things she wanted to know, the one that forced its way out was, “So what are you doing here with me? If you’re royalty, you would have some kind of diplomatic immunity, right? You could’ve gone to the cops yesterday and that would’ve been the end of it.”
    He held her gaze with an unwavering one of his own. “Yes.
    I’m aware of that. But where would that have left you?” He worked through the food before him. In the art he’d mastered called eating, the man made short work of everything on his plate.
    “So let me get this straight. You decided to run from the authorities in a foreign country because of a strange woman you just met?”
    “It does sound silly, doesn’t it? However, you’ve left out a very important detail.” He dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin she hadn’t noticed before. “It is my fault that you’re in this—”
    “So you keep saying. But that wouldn’t have stopped other folk from leaving me high and dry. That’s the way the world works now.” “Not where I come from. I’m honor-‐-bound to protect you and see you through. That’s what I intend to do.”
    Joan stared at him. Maybe if she stared at him long enough, she’d be able to see through to his real intentions toward her. For the life of her, all she could see was an earnest concern in the blue depths of his eyes. Figuring the best way to get past the shocker he’d just laid at her feet was to ignore it, she asked, “So what do you propose to do to ‘see me through’?”
    The surprise on his face told her that was the last question he expected her to ask. She couldn’t begin to imagine the