LITMIR.BIZ

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      Natasa had made him a similar proposition last night at closing time. Nic had been moderately drunk, but not enough to wish to share the bed with this woman, no matter how attractive she was. His carefree bachelor days had ended a month ago with Gabriel’s marriage. Soon every woman he glanced at twice would become fodder for news stories.

      It was worse for him being in Europe than living in America. In California he was an anonymous scientist trying to build a rocket ship. On this side of the Atlantic, he was known as Prince Nicolas, second in line to the throne of Sherdana. Avoiding reporters and paparazzi and being wary of helpful strangers had become a routine part of his life. That’s why he and his brothers had chosen Ithaca as a retreat. Homer had described the island as “good for goats” but it gave the Alessandro brothers an escape from their hectic world.

      Not that Nic was a fool. He knew his “anonymity” on this sleepy island was tenuous at best. But he and his brothers maintained a low profile, and the locals generously pretended the Sherdanian royals were like any other part-time inhabitants.

      “I’m afraid I’m already due for some company,” Nic said, nodding toward the harbor.

      When the boat was snugly tied, three tanned hands extended to help Brooke onto the quay. She seemed to hesitate before accepting the hands of the two men nearest to her and offering the third man an engaging smile.

      Natasa shielded her eyes as she gazed in the same direction Nic was looking. “Isn’t that your boat?” Her keen black eyes narrowed as she glanced at him for confirmation.

      “Yes.”

      “And the girl?”

      “She’s staying with me for a few days.” Until the words left his lips he hadn’t realized he’d changed his mind about putting her on a plane home as soon as humanly possible. Keeping her around was a mistake, but he was feeling battered and raw. Her company was the balm his psyche needed. He just needed to keep her at arm’s length.

      Natasa sniffed and tossed her head. Then, without another word, she turned to go. Nic gave a mental shrug. He’d retreated to Ithaca to come to grips with his future, not to tumble into some local’s bed. He liked his own company. In fact, most days, he preferred it. Why didn’t people understand that and leave him alone?

      Reality smacked Nic right between the eyes. Soon enough he’d never be left alone again. Returning to Sherdana meant not only a return to duty, but also a complete loss of privacy and peace. Long, solitary hours in his workshop would be a thing of the past. His father and brothers would ensure that his calendar was packed with meetings, speeches and public appearances. He’d been absent for ten years, five years of studying and another five working with Glen on the Griffin project.

      Now that he was returning home for good, his family would expect him to get up to speed on a variety of political, economic and environmental issues affecting the country. He would be surrounded by advisers, besieged by demands for decisions and sought after for his opinions.

      Balls and state dinners with visiting foreign dignitaries would replace basketball tournaments and pig roasts with the team of specialists that he’d assembled to help build the Griffin rocket ship. Then there would be the selection of his bride. Once his mother finished narrowing the field of marriage prospects—women his brother had already rejected—Nic would have to choose whom he would spend the rest of his life with. And he wouldn’t be allowed to dawdle over his decision because the succession needed to be secured by the birth of a royal heir.

      The burden of what lay ahead of him sat on Nic’s shoulders like a sack of cement. Was it any wonder he’d kept Brooke in the dark about his true identity all these years? He would have liked to continue pretending that he was just an ordinary man instead of a royal prince in serious trouble of doing the wrong thing with the right woman. But she’d never agree to back off unless she knew his whole story.

      In disgruntled admiration, Nic followed Brooke’s progress as she made her way around the horseshoe-shaped harbor. Since he’d left the house, she’d changed into an earth-toned sundress and accessorized with chunky bracelets and a peace sign necklace. Her red hair lay in a braided rope across her left shoulder. The breeze that frolicked through the streets teased the strands around her face that weren’t long enough to be restricted by the braid.

      Gulls jeered as they swooped past her. She appeared oblivious to their taunts, focused as she was on scanning the quay. The hem of the sundress brushed her calves as she walked. The thin spaghetti straps were too narrow to hide a bra so he knew she was at least partially bare beneath the dress. Speculating on just how bare renewed the pounding in his head despite the aspirin he’d taken earlier.

      She neared the taverna. Nic wasn’t sure she’d spotted him yet. Eight restaurants edged the water. This particular taverna was Nic’s favorite. He’d sampled enough of the menu in the years since they’d bought the villa to be able to make recommendations. The waitstaff always kept the cold beer coming while he took in the view of the vivid blue harbor, a welcome change from the beige and russet California desert where he’d spent the past several years.

      For entertainment he liked to watch the comings and goings of the sailboats chartered by vacationers. The captains often wrestled with the difficulties presented by Mediterranean mooring, the docking technique where the anchor was dropped forty feet into the harbor and then the boat was backed up against the cement quay. Only an hour ago he’d been witness to what could go wrong when you had twenty boats snugged in side by side. One departing boat had lifted its anchor, catching its neighbor’s as it went, only to at last drop that anchor across the lines belonging to the boat on the other side, hopelessly tangling the two boats. To Nic’s amusement, much shouting and gesturing had accompanied the maneuver.

      His earlier question about whether Brooke had spotted him was answered as she wove through the tables, aiming straight for him.

      “Where did you get the keys to the boat?” he quizzed as she plopped a big canvas purse on the table and sat down with a whoosh of breath.

      “Elena showed up shortly after you left. She fed me breakfast and told me where to find them. She’s very nice. And had flattering things to say about you. I think you’re her favorite triplet.”

      Nic wondered what else Elena had said. Had the housekeeper divulged the rest of his secret?

      “I doubt that very much. She’s always been partial to Christian. He’s the youngest. And the one all the ladies love.”

      “Why is that?”

      “He’s not as serious as Gabriel or me.”

      “What does he do?”

      “He buys companies and takes them apart so he can sell off the pieces.”

      “And Gabriel?”

      “He runs the family business.” Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

      “And your sister paints.”

      “Ariana.”

      “And you build rocket ships. Sounds like you’re all successful.”

      Not all of them. With the failure of his life’s work, he certainly wasn’t feeling particularly successful at the moment.

      “I hope you don’t mind, but I used your computer to print out some forms I needed to sign.”

      Even while on vacation the Alessandro triplets were often working on a project or a deal and having a state-of-the-art computer as well as a combination printer and scanner often came in handy.

      “You figured out how to turn it on?”

      As brilliant as she was when it came to learning languages or analyzing Italian literature, Brooke was technically challenged. She’d handwritten most of her first thesis until Nic had taken her to buy a laptop. He’d then lost an entire weekend to teaching her the ins and outs of the word-processing software as well as an app that enabled her to organize her research for easy reference.

      “Ha-ha.

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