The Prince: The Young Royals 1 Page 5

  “Caitlin, I’m David. I think you know that already, but I’m telling you anyway.”

  She grinned. “Hello, David.”

  “Shall we keep walking?”

  She nodded. And they walked.

  *

  Caitlin lost track of time as she and David wandered down the beach. The small number of people they passed didn’t even give David a first glance, let alone a second, and his PPOs kept enough of a distance so as to look like they weren’t with him, yet close enough to act should they be needed. They were also dressed alike, so Caitlin wondered how they must appear to strangers—like employees at the same upmarket men’s store, perhaps? Then again, in a place like this, security personnel were definitely not unheard of and David probably had fewer attached to him than would be assigned to some of the Wall Street titans who lived nearby.

  “So you’re the middle child, huh,” Caitlin said after David had introduced his sisters into their conversation. It must be weird for him, she thought, that most people he met already knew the names of his family members and what they looked like; they knew that his mother had died and that his father was a king. Or maybe it wasn’t weird—maybe he was so used to it that he just assumed people knew. He’d certainly assumed that she had known who he was in the bar, and on the beach—but how else was he supposed to act? If he pretended that people didn’t know him, it would seem disingenuous; but if he announced it, he could seem like he was arrogant. The way he acted was probably the best way he’d come up with to deal with something he didn’t choose: accept it as fact and don’t quibble with the way people act toward you.

  Caitlin wondered if David had ever met someone who didn’t know him; his looks were so distinctive that she doubted it—and the only way someone wouldn’t recognize him is if they hadn’t been near a newspaper, magazine or television for the past twenty-odd years. If he’d been simply good-enough looking, he could have blended into a crowd. But he wasn’t, and being up close to him for so long was giving her a better chance to appreciate that. He was stunning. Even his small imperfections—like a nose bent slightly out of shape from schoolboy rugby, as he’d told her, slightly self-consciously—seemed to render him more perfect. His skin was smooth and tan, almost olive, and it bore no signs that he had ever been through an awkward adolescent acne phase. He hadn’t—she knew that because she’d seen photos of him throughout that time. Every young woman around her age had grown up being acutely aware of Prince David. He was the romantic hero of their dreams—so much more worthy of their affections than any actor or pop star, purely because of his position, even though that wasn’t really a very good reason. And now here he was, walking beside her, talking about how his older sister was still bossing him around, despite the fact that they were both quite grown up, and now his younger sister was getting in on the act and, frankly, he felt outnumbered, particularly because neither of them bossed his father around and he felt that he was being bossed doubly because of it.

  Listening to him talk, Caitlin realized that he was, after all, a member of a fairly normal-sounding family. They had the usual sibling push-me-pull-you going on—even if theirs sometimes happened while his sisters were wearing tiaras. He sounded like any other exasperated young man wondering when he’d catch a break. Except that he had already caught a big break: he’d been able to run away from his sisters to do whatever he wanted in the USA. The fact that they nagged him over Skype and text messages and phone calls and emails didn’t make her feel sorry for him. Well, not much.

  “Yes, I’m stuck in the middle,” he said now. “And you?” He turned to look at her and her breath caught. How did anyone get used to looking at him? Get used to those eyes that could be limpid or wide open, and just as deep and warm and irresistible either way?

  Caitlin got past her nervousness by offering him an overly big grin. “I’m afraid I’m one of those nagging big sisters you’ve just been complaining about.”

  “Oh lord, let’s stop talking now,” he said, laughing. “You’re probably about to tell me I’m wearing the wrong sort of T-shirt for walking on the beach. Alix does that kind of thing all the time.”

  “Just for beach T-shirts?” Caitlin said teasingly.

  He grinned at her. “No, she’s fond of ringing me in the morning once she’s seen something in the newspapers. ‘Why were you looking so scruffy? Couldn’t you have tucked your shirt in? Those jeans had a hole in them.’” He rolled his eyes. “On it goes.”

  “If it’s any consolation, it’s proof that she cares about you.”

  “Is it? Or is it just that she wants to control me and decide what’s best for me?”

  Caitlin smiled. ‘They’re not mutually exclusive.”

  David nodded, looking ahead of them. “I’m not sure about that.”

  He stopped walking and turned to her. “You’re really easy to talk to,” he said.

  Caitlin was sure her mouth dropped open. “Thank you,” she said, not at all sure if she was smiling or frowning or making some other facial expression that had no name.

  He gazed at her, his eyelids half closing. “Aren’t you going to say the same to me?” There was a tease in it.

  Caitlin looked back in the direction they’d walked from. “I’m still making up my mind,” she said, turning back to him.

  He looked amused. “Give me your phone,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Give me your phone. Your cell. Whatever you call it.”

  “Newsflash, princey—you don’t have any sway here.” She made a face. “You can’t command me to do anything.”

  “‘Princey?’” He laughed. “That’s a new one. All right—please give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  He blew air out of his mouth. “So many questions. Because I want to put my number in it. Then you’ll text me and I’ll have your number.” His gaze was steady.

  “Hmm.” She appraised him. “I don’t have it with me. But I’ll give you the number and then you can text me.”

  “All right.” He fished in his pocket.

  Caitlin recited the number for him and, as she watched, he sent her a text message.

  “You didn’t ask me why I wanted your number,” he said then. “But I think that’s because a lot of men ask for your number.”

  “They do,” she said. “But they don’t tend to get it.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I find you easy to talk to, as well.”

  “So … back in the city, may I call you?” he said, looking unsure all of a sudden.

  “You may.” And now she sounded like the confident one.

  They stood, smiling at each other, then Caitlin became aware that the PPOs were moving toward them at a certain speed.

  “Caitlin!” she heard a man’s voice shouting and she turned to see Liam walking swiftly down the beach.

  Caitlin looked at David, who was shaking his head almost imperceptibly at his protection officers. Then he turned to her and his expression was unreadable.

  “Caitlin!” Liam shouted again, waving.

  “I can hear you,” Caitlin said loudly, with a firmness that surprised her. She folded her arms and waited for him to catch up to them, sneaking a glance at David, whose own arms were folded and his face still impassive.

  “Caitlin, where did you get to?” Liam said, slightly out of breath as he arrived, frowning at David. He hadn’t seemed to notice the PPOs, who had moved toward the water’s edge, their bodies still angled at David.

  “Here,” Caitlin said, shrugging.

  “Who …?” Liam frowned at David again, then he turned to Caitlin with what she could only think of as a glare.

  “Oh—my manners,” David said, offering his hand. “I’m Charlie.”

  Caitlin raised her eyebrows at that but she couldn’t catch David’s eye.

  “Liam,” the other man said, shaking the prince’s hand. “So how do you two know each other?”

  “Caity and I are old friends,” David continued. “I honestly couldn’t believe I bum
ped into her on the beach—what are the chances?” He chuckled and Caitlin tried not to laugh out loud.

  “Right,” Liam said slowly, looking at Caitlin. “So how are you old friends?”

  “Caity went to university with my younger sister.” David smiled benevolently at Caitlin. “To be honest, I haven’t seen her much since. But we bump into each other in the city from time to time.”

  Liam put his hands on his hips and Caitlin was struck by how the gesture exposed his insecurity—David’s body language indicated that he was relaxed and in command, but Liam looked defensive. The whole thing was fascinating, and maybe just a little disturbing when she considered how quickly Liam seemed to get on the back foot.

  “Caitlin hasn’t mentioned you,” Liam said.

  “As I said, I haven’t seen her much. My work keeps me busy.”

  “And that is?”

  “Oh—philanthropy. I’m very lucky to have my own foundation.” Now David showed his teeth as he smiled and Caitlin could tell he was enjoying himself. She started to giggle and turned away. “Are you worried that I’m a danger to this fair damsel?” David continued.

  Liam looked slightly startled. “No,” he said, waving both of his hands. “No—I was just surprised to find her out here with someone.”

  “Ah … I see,” David said, glancing from Liam to Caitlin. “Caitlin, you didn’t tell me that you have a boyfriend.” His nostrils flared, seemingly because he was entertained by the whole exchange. Caitlin’s own eyes widened and she shook her head once.

  “Oh, I’m … not her boyfriend.” Liam looked intently at Caitlin. “Just checking up on her.”

  “Well, I can return her safely to you,” David said, putting a hand around Caitlin’s shoulder.

  Caitlin felt her breath disappear. David squeezed her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

  “Sweetheart, we’ll be in touch,” he said, squeezing again. “It was divine to see you. Liam.” David nodded at the other man. “I’m going to head down this way,” he continued, inclining his head in the direction he and Caitlin had just been walking.

  “Isn’t your house up there?” Caitlin said, nodding instead in the direction they’d walked from.

  “It is.” David grinned. “But I’m walking on further. It’s such a beautiful day. Ciao.” He waved once and turned away from them.

  Caitlin resisted the impulse to look after him, knowing that it would betray so much to Liam that she wanted to keep to herself—possibly forever. She had no way of knowing if she’d ever see David again, but she knew she would never forget this morning.

  “Caitlin, I want to explain about Julia,” Liam began, but he stopped as Caitlin put up a hand.

  “Nothing to explain,” she said. “Let’s go back.”

  “I need to explain,” he persisted.

  “Honestly,” she said, trying not to sound giddy, “you really don’t.”

  She strode on ahead of him—not because she didn’t want to walk with him, but because she didn’t want him to see the huge grin taking over her face.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Caitlin hummed as she walked along Seventh Avenue toward 42nd Street, absorbing the sights and sounds of the New York morning pedestrian rush in a way that she didn’t think she ever had before. Everything felt bright and shiny—the air seemed cleaner than it probably was; the people were friendlier than she rationally knew they were. She moved past vendors and shops and commuters and cars all trying to claim their piece of Midtown with a spring in her step.

  Caitlin clutched her morning coffee and she’d even treated herself to a bagel—with no cream cheese. She might have lived her whole life in the US of A but that didn’t mean she approved of the portion sizes, and the usual trowel’s worth of cream cheese that was slapped on the average New York bagel was too much for her. No one who worked in the sort of environment she did could afford to eat like that; she shouldn’t even be having a bagel—she knew that none of her colleagues would approve.

  Occasionally she would try to objectively assess the culture of her workplace and in those moments she knew that it wasn’t very sane. She wasn’t even in the fashion department but, working for a fashion magazine, she was expected to look a certain way. It was easier to go along with it than rail against it. One of the other sub-editors, Suellen, had decided to actively buck the trend—she purposely ate everything that the others weren’t “allowed,” often at her desk, often noisily offering her appreciation of the taste of whatever it was she was eating. But Caitlin knew that Suellen’s behavior was as contrived as her own—Suellen was reacting against something rather than eating that way because she wanted too. They were all trapped, really, by a system than none of them had created and none of them was courageous enough to truly rebel against. But Caitlin had realized, not long after starting at the magazine, that she would rather be slender and healthy than overweight and headed for Type 2 diabetes the way some of her relatives were—each Thanksgiving gathering was like a living warning. So she’d enjoy this rare bagel and she’d do so before she ever stepped inside the lift that would take her up to the magazine’s floor.

  Caitlin had awoken in this good mood, all thoughts of Julia’s sudden appearance at the Hamptons house forgotten. Well, she’d been forgotten as soon as David had recognized Caitlin on the beach at Sag Harbor. Caitlin had tried to control her giddiness in front of Liam as they’d walked back to the house. Liam had tried to extract more information from Caitlin about who David was and how well she knew him but Caitlin had tried to sound nonchalant in all her responses, as if David was just someone’s older brother rather than the powerfully attractive man she’d been dreaming, and daydreaming, about ever since. She was glad Liam hadn’t recognized him. So often if people don’t expect to see something, they don’t see it, and even if Liam had known much about David—and Caitlin didn’t think many young men would—he certainly wouldn’t have expected to see him on that beach. But Caitlin had, in some odd way. She’d expected to see him everywhere, ever since seeing him in that bar. It was as if seeing him so randomly once gave her permission to believe it would happen again—and it had. She didn’t really believe that things “happened for a reason” but she was glad that David had walked onto that beach when he had.

  On the Jitney back to the city later that day—only yesterday, she had to keep reminding herself—she had analyzed her response to him, almost to the point of exhaustion. It was just so weird to see him in person—to spend that much time with him up close. She found it hard to slough off her idea of him and just work out who David the person was. But once she had—once she let herself remember that walk and how they had talked so easily to each other, how their body language had been so charged and responsive—she knew that she had responded to him as a man, not a prince. It was just that he was unlike any other man she’d ever met. He was so comfortable within himself—his demeanour suggested a man who knew that the world would wait for him, so that he could move at his own pace—and while it was something that was often seen in older men who’d “made it,” it wasn’t something she’d ever seen in a young man. And it was incredibly attractive. David had made it easy for her to be with him—he hadn’t been sleazy or threatening, he hadn’t asked her inappropriate things. They had just talked about … what had they talked about? So much—art and books and politics, she recalled. She’d mentioned that she’d noticed his book in the bar—that that was the first thing she’d noticed. He’d seemed pleased. That had turned into a discussion about modern English literature and then …

  Caitlin felt like hugging herself. She could hardly believe that he was real. And that he had her phone number. And that she had his. She had his phone number. But he said he’d call her, so she would wait for him to do just that.

  Suddenly Caitlin was at the office building on Times Square. She hastily chomped on her bagel, brushing crumbs off her as she went, and slurped the rest of her coffee before throwing the remnants of both in the trash.

  Today, she just knew, was
going to be a good day.

  *

  Caitlin’s cell phone was sitting on her desk when it rang. She’d switched it to silent—she always did when she was in the office, because open-plan offices weren’t the best place for noisy ringtones—but she saw it light up. And she saw the name displayed on it: David. She’d keyed it in as soon as she’d returned to her room at the beach house, unsure whether she should use his real name but swiftly realizing that “David” could be anyone. She knew he had a last name that was rarely used but it seemed redundant to put it into her contacts. He was just David. And now he was calling her.

  Snatching up her phone, her heart hammering in her chest, Caitlin walked quickly to a corner of the office that had an empty desk and, thus, no eavesdroppers.

  “Hi,” she said in what she hoped was a relaxed, friendly, familiar tone that suggested that she knew who was calling. She just didn’t want to say his name out loud.

  “Hello, Caitlin,” came David’s smooth tenor tone.

  She smiled. “Are you still on the island?” she managed.

  “I’m not,” he said, his own voice light. “I’ve just arrived back in the city.” He paused and she could think of nothing to say, aware that he’d probably think she was some kind of idiot. She had to say something.

  “So—” she started.

  “Would you like to have a drink tonight?” he continued smoothly, unhurriedly, no doubt knowing she’d say yes—who would refuse him, after all? And she wasn’t about to now.

  “Oh. Sure,” she said.

  “I trust this invitation doesn’t come as a surprise.” He sounded like he was smiling. He was probably smiling. At her. Just over the phone.

  Caitlin took a breath and got hold of herself.

  “It doesn’t,” she said clearly. “A drink would be lovely.”

  At that exact point Jay from the art department walked past and raised his eyebrow. Caitlin tensed, suspecting that she’d have to face his interrogation later.