The afternoon passed in a blur of miles. We were a team, now, and Jakov, Emerik and Caroline all took a turn at the wheel. I could see a storm rolling towards us in the rear view mirror, but as long as we kept moving, we’d stay ahead of it. By sundown, it was my turn again. I blinked and strained my eyes and tried to focus on the white line. I hadn’t slept properly in days. None of us had.

“When are you going to stop?”

The Princess’s voice made me jump and swerve. I’d thought she was asleep, like everyone else. I regained control. “I’m not,” I told her. “We’ve got enough gas to reach New York. Should be another five or six hours.”

“Garrett, you’re exhausted.”

When had it become Garrett instead of Mr. Buchanan? Hearing it did something to me: I felt like the shy kid in high school, noticed by the prom queen. I felt special. And my name...it’s a good old-fashioned name, never had a problem with it. But it’s a working name, a name to be bawled across a field or shouted over the din of machinery. Garrett sounds like tools and rope and dirty hands, just like Kristina sounds like snowflakes and sweet-smelling petals. And yet when she said my name, it sounded different. It sounded respectable.

My chest ached like something vital was being wrenched out of it. God, I’m going to miss her.

“I’m okay,” I lied. But my eyelids felt like they were made out of old, gritty sackcloth. Blinking felt good. I just needed a good long blink—

“Garrett!”

I’d wandered into the oncoming lane. Shit! I wrestled us back onto our side. “I’m fine.”

“Let someone else take a turn!”

I looked in the rear view mirror. Emerik was asleep, hands carefully folded. God, even the man’s snores were prim and proper. Jakov had his head thrown back and his arms and legs spread wide, taking up half the back seat. Caroline was dozing with her head on his shoulder, frowning and muttering in her sleep, working through the guilt. I knew how that felt.

“There is no one else,” I told the Princess.

“Teach me,” she said.

“What?!”

“Teach me to drive.”

I glanced across at her to see if she was serious.

She flushed. “Look, I’m not stupid! I just never learned!”

“I know you’re not stupid, Your Highness,” I looked at her, so she could see I meant it, and our eyes locked. Tomorrow, she’ll be gone….

“It’s a long, straight, empty road,” she said.

I looked. She had a point. Aside from the odd truck, we were the only thing moving.

“Please,” she said. “I don’t want to be useless.”

“You’re not useless,” I told her firmly. I sighed. “Okay. Get over here.”

I’m not sure what my sleep-starved brain had in mind. I knew she’d be sitting in my lap, but somehow I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to have her—

She slid onto me with a rustle of fabric, a gentle waft of that exotic scent, and a brush of her hair against the front of my neck. Then her soft ass was on my thighs, twisting as she hooked her feet into the footwell, and I had to fight to keep from groaning. She was still in that gauzy nightdress and Emerik’s jacket. That meant her ass was only covered by a pair of panties and lacy fabric about as substantial as a spider web. The slit up the side of the nightgown had fallen open and those long, shapely legs were nude as they pressed against my jeans.

Suddenly, I was wide awake. “Take the wheel,” I grunted.

Her fingers wrapped around the rim right below mine, her thumbs brushing my pinky fingers. Immediately, that pull rolled through me like thunder across a Texas sky. Up through my arms, into my chest...and when it hit my heart, goddamn! I had to crush the wheel in my hands to stop myself wrapping my arms around her and pulling her to me. With every breath, I inhaled her scent. She’s there! She’s right there in your lap and tomorrow she’ll be gone!

Tomorrow, she’ll be back home with her kind. With princes and lords and billionaires.

She wiggled her legs, trying to get comfortable. The problem was, I’m pretty big. There wasn’t much room between my thighs and the bottom of the steering wheel. Not unless she scooched herself….

...all the way back. The firm cheeks of her ass nestled against my crotch. If the pull was like thunder, deep and resonant, the lust was like lightning, blinding bright and scorching hot, arcing and crackling. Any second, it would strike just the right spot and I’d be helpless to stop myself lunging for her. It would be so easy, so goddamn easy to just slide one big forearm around that slender waist and jerk her back hard against me, her back pressed to my pecs as my hand roved up under that jacket and palmed her breasts—

“Okay,” she said. I could hear that tension in her voice, that urgency. She was on the edge of control, too. “What do I do?”

I opened my mouth to speak but I couldn’t focus on the road. All I could focus on was her neck, pale and soft and perfect, locks of that chestnut hair drifting silkily across it as she swayed atop me. I needed to lean forward and brush the hair out of the way, kiss all the way down to the lace on her shoulder, then all the way up her throat to her chin, twisting her around in my lap so I could reach her lips—

I could feel myself getting hard. God, no. Not with her sitting right— I thought of all the reasons why we couldn’t be together. The gulf between us. The parts of me I was hiding from her. Most of all, the need to protect her. I couldn’t guard her if I was too busy imagining—

That ass, so fine and pert and toned from riding, bouncing on top of me as my hands traced up her sides. Her twisting to kiss me, groaning as my rough fingers found her nipples—

It was no good, I was rock hard, the bulge under the denim pressing right between those cheeks. “It’s an auto,” I said with difficulty. “So you don’t have to worry about shifting gears.” I pressed my right thigh against hers. “Try giving it a little gas.”

I lifted my foot off the pedal and let her slide hers on. She hesitantly pushed and the car surged forward. Her ass pushed harder against my crotch and my whole body tensed. Her head was right next to mine and I was drunk on the scent of her, driven crazy by the silken brush of that hair on my neck. Just kiss her!

“Now the other pedal,” I told her. “Gently..”

She braked, harder than she meant to. That was when I remembered that she didn’t have a safety belt on. My arms came up before I was even aware of it, criss-crossing over her waist, hauling her back against me, just like I’d been fantasizing. We swerved a little, then she released the brake and we straightened out.

But I was still holding her tight. I could feel every breath she took, every beat of her heart. Goddamn it, I am crazy about this woman. And then I felt the soft warmth against my forearms and realized they were pressing against the underside of her breasts.

I swallowed. She’d gone rigid atop me, her breath shaky with anticipation. I brought my lips close to her cheek, closed my eyes—

“You got it,” I forced myself to say. “You’ll be fine.”

I opened my eyes and met hers in the rear view mirror. I nodded. It has to be this way.

And after a moment, she nodded too.

She lifted herself and I undid my belt and slid out from underneath her and across to the passenger side. Halfway there, I saw Emerik watching me in the mirror. When had he woken up? How much had he seen?

His warning stare told me: enough. Sure, we were getting on much better, now, but when it came to the Princess, he was still viciously protective. Too protective for it to just be about me being unworthy of her—which I was. It felt like there was something I didn’t understand. All that unbroken snow stuff….

I shook my head. Maybe there were still things about Lakovia I didn’t understand.

* * *

By the time we reached New York, we were all ready to drop. The storm was close behind us, black clouds shutting out the stars. I automatically started searching around for a cheap motel but the Princess shook her head. “It’s my last night in America,” she told me. “I insist.”

And she took us to one of those hotels. The ones where there’s a guy playing the piano in the cocktail bar, where bellhops load your suitcases onto those fancy polished carts. The guy at the reception desk looked at me like I’d crawled out of a drain, but he changed his tune when I booked a suite and paid with a thick wad of the Princess’s cash.

Upstairs, in the suite, I looked around in astonishment. My bedroom had a carved wooden bed the size of a boat, with sheets so smooth and soft it felt like I was going to slip right off them. My room alone was bigger than my whole apartment back in LA.

To the others, of course, it was all normal. Emerik was grinning like a man who’d just stumbled out of the jungle after a month lost. Caroline was on the phone to the concierge, giving careful instructions on what clothes she needed him to run out and buy for us. And the Princess had fired up the room’s huge flat-screen TV and was placing a video call to….

The screen lit up. I didn’t recognize the man who answered but I recognized the thick chestnut hair and the imperious jawline.

“Kristina!” breathed the King. “Thank God!” He laid his hand on the screen and the Princess did the same, touching their palms together. Then he glanced around the room. “Caroline. Gentlemen.”

“Your Majesty,” the other three all said in unison.

Then the King looked at me. “And you must be Mr. Buchanan. Thank you for looking after my daughter.”

I felt that fluttering in my chest again. The same surge of loyalty I always felt around the Princess. He wasn’t anything like the slimy politicians I’d met. I felt...humbled. But not talked down to. “You’re welcome, Your Highness,” I mumbled.

The Princess told her father that Sebastian, Aleksander’s assistant, was a traitor. He nodded gravely. “I’ll have him arrested and interrogated. Hopefully, he can give us a lead on the assassins.”

There was a tiny sound behind me, a barely audible moan. When I turned, Caroline was standing there, her dress twisted in her hands, her eyes brimming with tears. She bolted from the room. Poor kid. I knew what it felt like to be betrayed. But this was worse, in some ways, than what had happened to me. She’d been in love with him and those feelings don’t just switch off. She didn’t want to think of him chained and interrogated.

“The FBI found the three men killed at your father’s ranch, Mr. Buchanan,” said the King. “All Garmanians, members of Silvas Lukin’s squad in the war.”

The Princess caught her breath and drew her arms tight around her. All I wanted was to march over there and sweep her into my arms, pull her tight against my chest and make sure nothing could ever get to her. But I forced myself to stand still.

“They could be an extremist group: men out for revenge for the war,” said the King. “But we can’t ignore the possibility that they’re backed by the Garmanian government. Their Prime Minister denies all involvement but Aleksander thinks he’s lying.”

“If Garmania ordered my assassination, it could restart the war,” whispered the Princess.

The King leaned forward. “I am not going to let that happen,” he said. “Have a safe flight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And the screen went black.

* * *

We called down for room service and wound up ordering about half the menu: we hadn’t eaten properly in almost two thousand miles. I took a long, hot shower, changed the dressings on the wounds on my legs and then the clothes Caroline ordered arrived. I dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, and, damn, it felt wonderful. I wandered out of my bedroom to check on the Princess and—

Stopped.

She was just coming out of her room wearing one of those big, white, fluffy hotel bathrobes. Her skin was freshly-scrubbed and gleaming, her hair still damp. She was stripped of her fancy clothes and shoes and tiara and it didn’t matter. She’d have looked like a princess in a sack.

She caught my gaze. Held it. I’d taken three steps towards her before I realized I was moving, called to her by something I couldn’t explain or fight. I finally got my feet under control and stopped just before I reached her. But I still couldn’t look away.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” she said at last. God, that voice, like having every aching muscle in my body caressed by smooth, cool glass. She turned to look out of the window. “New York City. When my father said I had to attend a meeting here, I was so excited. In the end, I didn’t get to see anything except the inside of a limo and a few meeting rooms at the UN. She walked over to the window and put her hand on the glass. “Tomorrow I’ll be back in Lakovia. Even once your FBI catch the assassins, I doubt my father will ever let me come back to America again. It’s too dangerous here.”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak. I’d known this was goodbye but hearing her say it...I’m never going to see her again. I felt...blessed, just having had her in my life, even just for a few short days. I knew that, my whole life, I’d never again know anything this special. And it made me want to do something for her.

“Come with me,” I said.

I took her hand and led her out of the suite and up to the top floor, then hunted around until I found a stairwell that led up to the roof. When we stepped outside, the rain clouds were right overhead. The storm was going to break any second but we were okay for now.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

She nodded immediately.

“Close your eyes.”

She closed them. I walked behind her, my hands on her shoulders, threading her through the maze of air conditioning ducts, telling her when she needed to step over a pipe. My eyes were locked on her bare calves, where they emerged from beneath the robe.

We reached the edge of the roof. I helped her step up onto the parapet, wrapping an arm around her waist in case she swayed, and then said, “Your Highness: open your eyes.”

She drew in her breath. New York was laid out before her, glittering canyons of skyscrapers with rivers of glowing white flowing between them. The Flatiron building, the Chrysler building, the Empire State, all dressed in lights.

“Figure we haven’t given you the best welcome,” I said. “Wanted you to see the good in this country, before you go.”

She looked down at the arm wrapped around her waist. “I’ve seen the good in this country.”

I stayed silent.

“When we get home,” she said, “I’ll be giving the guards medals for their service. I wish I could do something for you. Obviously, you’ll be rewarded—”

“I didn’t do it for money.”

She craned her head around to look at me. With her up on the parapet, we were eye-to-eye. “Anything you want.”

Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe. I remembered standing in the FBI office, thinking about that old line from the stories. All I ask for is a kiss from you, Your Highness—

But life ain’t no damn fairy tale. I said nothing. And after a second she gave a sad little smile and a nod and looked back to the city. I could see the lights reflected in the tears in her eyes. “I’m going to miss America, Mr. Buchanan.”

My mind was screaming at the wrongness of it. I knew I was doing the right thing, knew I wasn’t the sort of guy who could be with her. Knew I was just a big lunk with dirt under his fingernails, a jarhead and a damaged one at that. I’ve never been ashamed of what I am. But dammit, in that moment I would have given anything to be some duke or prince. I tried to force my voice to be level, but it shook a little. “America’s going to miss you, Your Highness.”

She pressed her lips tight together and nodded. Then she stepped down off the parapet and we started towards the stairs.

I held her hand to guide her and just that tiny contact sent energy pulsing up my arm, right to my chest. There was something about the feel of her delicate hand in my much bigger one. What if this is the very last time I ever touch her?

We reached the stairwell door. I released her hand but my fingers didn’t want to let go: they tangled and caught at hers. She looked up at me, eyes huge, breath coming quick. I quickly looked away. Don’t be a damn fool, Garrett.

I hauled open the door. Looked down the cold stairs that led to a polite goodnight, an early start, then her getting on Barney’s plane. I caught her eye again and saw the tears there. Looked away and nodded to myself firmly. This was the right decision. The only decision.

I stepped forward.

Only she stepped forward, too. My hip brushed her hip: soft terry robe and hot flesh just beneath; damp chestnut hair flicking against my neck as she gasped and turned in surprise, the scent of her warm skin—

Every man has a goddamn breaking point.

I slammed her up against an air conditioning duct and kissed her as hard as I could.