CHAPTER EIGHT
“That’s not good.” Her voice sounded thin. It was still daylight, but the sky was black with clouds and the kitchen had only one small window, so they stood in almost darkness.
She heard Sandro put his glass down on the stone countertop. “It sounded like a window breaking.” He hurried into the living room, where, sure enough, one of the tall French doors was smashed in, bisected by a palm whose wet grayish fronds now rested on the beige rug.
“Oh, my gosh.” She stared at the tree. “That tree wasn’t even near the house.” The upended roots were out by the road, at least fifty feet away across the lawn. Tiny square shards of glass sprinkled down onto the floor from the smashed door.
“Safety glass.” Sandro picked up a piece. “I wish it was impact glass. That stuff won’t break even under hurricane-force winds.”
“The opening is compromised. Wind and rain can come into the house, and under the right conditions wind could even rush in and blow the roof off.” She’d seen a documentary about that.
“We need to board it up.”
“They might have hurricane shutters or plywood somewhere. It’s a shame we can’t get hold of Zadir.” They both tried calling the management agent she’d rented from, but her phone couldn’t find a signal, and though Sandro managed half a bar standing at the top of the staircase, no one picked up at the other end.
“I’ll feel bad if Zadir’s house blows down.” Sandro looked annoyingly unworried. A tornado would probably just leave his royal hair looking artfully ruffled. “But I imagine it’s insured.”
“I’m sure it is, but I have another idea. Is there a control panel of some kind?” She began looking around the front hall and kitchen, opening closets and feeling inside the cabinets. At least she came upon a sleek electrical panel tucked discreetly inside the pantry. “I think that I saw signs of roll-down shutters on the outside of the windows.”
“Except that now there’s no power to roll them down.” He leaned against the island as if nothing could bother him.
“Damn, I forgot about that. But didn’t you say there’s a generator?”
“If there was it should have come on by now. Maybe it’s out of gas.”
“Or maybe it needs to be switched on manually. Come on, let’s find it.”
In less than five minutes they’d found a power panel for the generator, and all systems were up and running. But they couldn’t lower the shutters on the broken French window as the tree still penetrated the opening.
They had to brave the rain and thunder and lightning and haul with all their might before they finally got the treetop out of the window. Rain streamed into Serena’s eyes as she surveyed the scene. “The roots are sticking out into the street. It’s a traffic hazard.”
“There isn’t any traffic.”
“Someone might drive by.”
“We’ll have to turn it.” Sandro hauled the heavy root end while she attempted to lever the frond end around until the tree lay across the increasingly sodden lawn.
“Do you hear the dog now?” Arms aching, Serena strained to hear through the pelting rain. Thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning illuminated the house as it struck nearby.
“I think it’s just wind in the chimney. We’d better get back inside.”
By the time they staggered back in, they were drenched with both rain and perspiration. Serena lowered the electric shutters with a sigh of relief. “We’re lucky to have light. I wonder how long before the gas in the generator runs out.”
“There’d better be enough in there to cook my chicken.” Rain dripped from Sandro’s chiseled features. “I take my Christmas dinner very seriously.”
“I’m glad they didn’t have a turkey at the store. At least a chicken doesn’t take that long.”
“With any luck there’s a huge fuel tank buried underground somewhere.”
“I don’t usually like to count on luck, but in this case we don’t have much choice.” Serena felt self-conscious in her wet T-shirt. “I’m going to go change.”
“Wait.” Sandro said the word quickly, his eyes focused on hers. Then they drifted lower, to her mouth. Her lips twitched under his bold stare. Should she really just stand here because he’d commanded her to? How did women usually respond to a royal command?
Her thoughts scattered as he tugged her close and pressed his lips to hers.
A shudder roamed through her body, and goose bumps spread down her arms. She’d like to blame the combination of rain and cool air-conditioning for the shiver of excitement coursing through her, but she knew it came from deep inside.
From Sandro.
Chemistry flashed between them like the lightning outside. Her fingers, acting of their own accord, pushed into his damp hair, and a moan escaped her mouth as he deepened the kiss.
When he finally pulled back enough for their lips to part, she was panting slightly, her heart pounding.
Eyelashes half lowered over desire-darkened eyes, he rested his gaze on her face again. “I think we should go upstairs.”