Page 34 of The Prince Who Loved Me

“You going to climb up here and clean out my vents?”

“No, I can call someone to do it for you.”

Her face blanked, the way it used to when her boyfriend said something she didn’t like but didn’t want to argue about. “No, thanks.” She disappeared back onto the roof. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He shouldn’t have come. He was royally screwing up. He needed space. She needed space. And he was going to give it to her.

Carolann followed him back to his car. “Can you give me a lift back to Fountenoy Hall?”

He opened the door for her, and she popped into the front seat. “I’m surprised you hang out here all time. Small towns don’t fit the partying prince image.”

Which is why he cultivated that image. No one would think to look for him in Claremont, Georgia. He put the key inthe ignition and drove away.

“Ooh, what’s this?” She reached behind her and came back with one of his sketchbooks. His heart drummed until he was able to identify it as one of landscapes, not his daily sketch journal where he drew his day. Which consisted mostly of Brandi.

“I did read somewhere that you draw pictures.” She put her hand on his arm, her thumb brushing lightly back and forth. “Can I look?”

Based on Brandi’s past and what she’s said about her mom, Sebastien didn’t know Carolann’s overtures were on purpose or if it was a natural part of her. “Yeah. Go ahead.” Hopefully it would keep her hands occupied for the quick ride back.

“Wow. These are actually good,” she said. “I always thought you were getting the publicity because you were a prince, but you’re pretty talented.”

He pressed his lips together before managing a polite “Thank you.”

“So what are you intentions with my daughter?”

What the hell? She flits in and out of Brandi’s life and then has the audacity to ask him a question she should be asking of herself. He turned on to the main road. “That’s between me and your daughter, ma’am.”

“Hmmm.” She looked him over from head to foot and gave a slow smile, her chin dipping to look up at him through her lashes. He’d seen Brandi give that look to different men a hundred times. It was surreal seeing it from someone that looked eerily like her.

“If she’s holding out for something better, she’s not goingto find it.”

He pulled into the lot and killed the engine.

Carolann let herself out and stretched, her shirt rising to bare her pierced belly button. “If you’re looking for something better, you know where to find me.”

She sashayed away, adding sway to her hips. Sebastien grabbed his sketchbook and faced the grounds sloping downward to the orchard. If she turned around, she’d get the hint.

He hoped. Nothing said awkward quite so much as your crush’s mom hitting on you.

That’s it. He had to get away, even for a couple of days. It wasn’t out of the norm for him to take off while keeping Fountenoy Hall his home base. Going to the art walk in Atlanta was the perfect excuse to leave. He could get lost in the galleries, drink a lot of Coke, see some fish, and get himself under control.

Why had she said no? That kiss had been electrifying.

He drew a quick sketch of Brandi on the roof to give Carolann time to get where she as going, then entered the Hall through the kitchen and snuck up the back stairs. Once in his room, he threw some clothes into a suitcase. Didn’t matter what. He could buy whatever he was missing in Atlanta.

He poked his head through the connecting door to his bodymen’s room when he finished packing. As much as he felt he didn’t need the protection, he was respectful of the jobs they had to do. Massimo sat in a chair, reading a book. He rose when Sebastien walked in.

“We’re leaving. Let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.” Massimo grabbed a bag from the closet. “Am I driving?”

“No.”

“Very good.”

Driving through Claremont was an exercise in patience and thirty mile per hour speed limits. He puttered along to the interstate, then opened her up. Even pushing eighty, his car begged to go faster, but he didn’t chance it. Getting a ticket wasn’t bad, but it created a public record of his location and he wanted to keep himself anonymous.

“Your Highness.” Massimo’s spoke for the first time when they were about halfway to Atlanta, his voice was slow and measured. “Loïc made reservations for you at a hotel a few blocks from the art walk.”