Charlotte & Nate (Royals of Valleria #4) (13 page)

“That’s kind of sexist.”

He shook his head. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s not that I don’t believe a woman could have made it. It’s that I wasn’t expecting
you
. I thought I’d find another wizened chef like Coco, who’d clearly been doing it for years. Instead, I found a talented, beautiful woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.”

Her heart fell a little. “So you are here because I said ‘no’ to you. I was right.” When she tried to push away, he held her still against him.

“No, Charlotte. I’m not here because I like the chase. I’m here because I like you. I want to know more about you. How did you get into baking? Why did you come to Valleria? I kept pestering you because I wanted to know more, but you hide yourself away. The only time I truly see you is in your desserts. Even tonight you’re holding back from me.”

She couldn’t deny the truth in his words. She did put everything she had into her desserts; it was the only time she didn’t hold part of herself back. It was the only time she let her past live with her present. “It’s not easy for me to talk about myself, or my past.” She shrugged. “I never really had a reason to.”

“You may not have had a reason before, Charlotte, but you do now.” Nate pulled away and she felt an icy breeze wash over her. She had to hold back the urge to pull him back down to her again. “Let’s have a bite to eat and we can talk.”

Charlie sat up while Nate began to pull out items from the basket. A container filled with large foil-wrapped sandwiches came first. As she unwrapped hers, she smiled, taking in the French onion soup grilled cheese sandwich.

“Who put the basket together for you?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just glad it wasn’t you. I ordered it from my apartment – do you know who might have filled the order?”

Charlie let the flavors of the crisp, buttered bread dance across her tongue and mix with the sweetness of the caramelized onions – it was heaven on cold night. “I’m not sure. There are only a few of us designated staff who address any requests from the Royal Wing, as we’ve got the extra security clearance for it.”

Nate swallowed his bite of sandwich with wide eyes. “Extra security clearance? Just to serve us food?”

Charlie nodded while she finished off a bite of her own sandwich. “You’re a royal. It makes sense to have a higher clearance to deal with your food.”

“Not to me. I’ll never be king.”

“There’s still a chance for it.”

“Not a very good one, and let’s all be thankful for that.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “You know, I never would have thought French onion soup would make a good sandwich, but this tastes amazing.”

Charlie couldn’t help the smile that brushed her face. “It was kind of my idea.”

“Was it?”

“Yes. I used to have it back in America and, after I started here, I suggested some of the other kitchen staff try it. They were pleasantly surprised, too.”

“What else did you bring here from America?” he murmured.

With her face intent on the sandwich, she said, “A lot of things, and I’m not just talking about tangible items.”

When he nodded his understanding, she gazed down at her food once more. Since she wasn’t sure where to start, food seemed to be the easiest way to begin. “Grilled cheese sandwiches – which this sort of is – were one of the first things I learned how to make.”

“How old were you?”

“Not very old. I wasn’t taller than the stove, I remember that much. I used the broiler to make them, since that was situated at the bottom of the stove and I could reach the knob to turn it on.”

Nate’s forehead furrowed. “Why were you cooking at such a young age? Were your parents helping you?”

Moment of truth. “I don’t have any parents.”

“What happened to them?”

Charlie shrugged, her body tensing at just the thought of them. “I don’t really remember them. They left me when I was young, from what I was told. Your guess is as good as mine as to where they are. I stopped looking a long time ago.” She hadn’t cried over the fact her parents had left her in many years, not since she had started working full-time to becoming a chef. The fact was that she just wasn’t good enough for them, and nothing she did now would change that fact.

Nate put down his bowl. “Then who took care of you?”

Charlie put down her bowl of half-finished soup. “After I was found, I got put into foster care. From there, I pretty much took care of myself.”

“What do you mean, after you were found?”

She still hadn’t looked at him, couldn’t just yet. “The cops stormed the apartment I was in and found me. Apparently, my parents were involved in some sort of scheme involving prescription drugs, selling poor quality versions at high-quality prices. I think someone ended up dying and the police came after them for it. I never bothered to learn the details. Anyway, they must have decided it wasn’t worth the trouble to take me with them when they ran away.”

His fingers came into view and a moment later he had tipped her chin up towards him. His face was fierce, his tone adamant when he spoke; in that moment she saw the enigmatic prince known to the world. “Anyone who thought that, well, they’re the ones who aren’t worth anything. They saved you by leaving you behind. No one, no
child
deserves what you went through.”

Her skin flushed at the simple defense and her eyes blinked as tears bloomed behind them. She didn’t cry anymore, hadn’t cried for years; she definitely wouldn’t start now. “Thank you,” she said in a thick voice, and cleared her throat. “It wasn’t all bad.”

His fingers skimmed down her pale throat before they fell away. “What was good?”

“Miss Lola.”

“Who was she?”

“She was one of my foster mothers. She’d never been married, and she told me once they’d almost rejected her as a foster mother because of it. They only changed their mind when they realized there was a need for women-only foster homes.”

Nate pulled a thermos out of the basket and began to unscrew the top. “What for?”

“For girls who had been abused or, um, mistreated in any way.”

His fingers stilled on the thermos. “Were you ‘mistreated’ like that?”

She shook her head. “No, not me, but Miss Lola had an opening for another child and it was my turn to be placed. She saved my life,” she ended softly.

Nate handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate, then poured one for himself. “Figuratively or literally?”

“Both, really. She ran a catering business from her house and the kids she had always helped out. She taught me to cook and bake. She saved me from hurting myself more than once in the kitchen, too. She kept me until the state told her she couldn’t anymore, and that’s when I went off to culinary school, which she helped pay for, at least for the first year. She was a wonderful woman.”

“Was?”

She cleared her throat. “She died in an accident, about a year after I left.”

He reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult losing her must have been for you.”

She didn’t mention that it wasn’t a loss you really got over; he’d likely learn that one day himself when one or both of parents passed away. She shook her head, realizing that if he did lose a parent, Valleria could very well lose their leader as well.

She put the cup down and stood, pushing herself away from him and breaking their contact. She walked through the tall hedges towards the water, and watched while it rolled softly against the river banks.

She expected the hand on her shoulder when it came a few long moments later. She expected it when he turned her to face him, and even expected the searching look she saw in his eyes. She spoke first, knowing what the question was before he even asked it.

“Can you see now why we don’t fit? I’m the child of God-knows-who, discarded like trash by criminals, and an American on top of that who happens to be the hired help. We don’t make sense.”

He didn’t speak at first, just continued his assessing gaze. “There’s one thing I’ve learned in my job, Charlotte. On paper, everything can seem black and white, yes or no, good or bad, fit or no fit. But there’s something else you need to consider.”

“What’s that?” she asked warily.

“That we fit pretty well like this.” He pulled her against him, nestling her head perfectly under his chin. “And also like this.” He moved her head and dropped his lips softly to hers. Wrapped in warm sweaters and comforting arms, bathed in the cool November moon, they took each other. She tasted the sweet, heady taste of rich, creamy chocolate and the underlying notes of sweet, caramelized onions from dinner. She wasn’t sure who stopped kissing first, but they both found themselves breathing sharply into the cold air, their breath leaving clouds of softly falling fog.

She rested her head against his chest, and took a deep breath of his soft scent. She’d never known a man could have a scent that was overwhelming without smelling like it was. “That’s just physical.”

He rubbed his hand along her spine. “It’s not just physical. It’s also a feeling.”

“I can feel you what you mean by feeling.”

He bumped his hips against her playfully. “I don’t mean that. At least not just that.” He cupped her head, his long, broad fingers easily sliding into silky strands. “Am I alone here? Do you feel anything for me?”

She stared into the brown depths of his eyes. She wanted to lie, for both their sakes, but when she spoke it was the truth. “I’m attracted to you.”

His face fell a little. If she hadn’t been looking so closely, she would have missed it. “So, it’s just physical for you? Nothing more?” he asked.

Would it hurt to try? Something Lola said to her once rang in her mind.
You take things too seriously, Charlie. There’s a time and place for that, of course, but make sure you get some smiles along the way, too
.

She decided to heed Lola’s advice, since she had been the closest thing Charlie’d ever had to a mother. “I’m not sure about ‘more’ at this moment, but I think we could try.”

No sooner had the words been reluctantly spoken from her mouth when he pulled her tight against him in a fierce hug. She felt his lips brush her temple and a few ragged breaths against her skin. “You won’t regret it, I promise you.”

She nuzzled the soft sweater on his chest, then rested her cheek against his heartbeat. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I don’t. I’ll keep this one. You’ll see.”

He held her for moments or maybe even minutes; in the still of the night, it was difficult to gauge the time. Finally, he pressed another kiss to her hair, then to her forehead, cheeks, and a gentle brush against her lips.

He put an arm around her as he led her back to the blanket. “Let’s go back. I think we’ve both got long days ahead of us tomorrow.” After they packed up the basket and blankets, Nate held her hand as they walked slowly back to the palace. “I want to see you tomorrow, Charlotte.”

“I’m working until six in the evening, but I’ve got to be up early the next day to prepare for the royal guests.”

“The Australian Prime Minister? I’d almost forgotten he was coming. How about an early dinner then? Say six-thirty?”

“All right. Where should we meet?”

“Why don’t we dine in your room?”

She stopped in the path and, joined as he was to her, he stopped as well. “My room?”

“Unless you feel comfortable coming to my room?”

She shook her head before he’d even finished speaking. “We can meet in my room. I’ll cook.”

His eyes twinkled. “Will you really? What will you make for me?”

His voice was seductive and entrancing, like the scent of hot toffee swirled into a pool of fudge brownies. “What would you like?”

“Your favorite dish.”

She blinked. “My favorite dish?”

He stepped closer, his body sending waves of heat crackling towards her. “Treat me to your favorites, Charlotte.”

She swallowed. “All right. If you call me ‘Charlie’, then I’ll make them for you.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I’d prefer you make them for yourself,
Charlie
.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “I can’t wait to taste you again,
Charlie
.”

She wished she knew if he meant the food or her.

Chapter 8

A call from Marcello had roused Nate from an unbearably erotic dream. It had taken him several moments to get his breathing under control, by which time Marcello had left a message. He was haunted by images of him and Charlotte naked under the stars, their heated breaths and bodies warming even the cold ground under them while they moved against each other, Nate burying himself in her scorching body.

Dreams like that were enough to drive a man insane. Nate was almost there himself.

Nate took a blisteringly cold and quick shower and returned his brother’s call; Marcello requested a meeting in their father’s study before the day began. The news probably wasn’t good if they were still meeting unofficially.

Pressed for time, Nate made an espresso con panna – a few shots of espresso with whipped cream, another vice of his – instead of coffee. He drank it quickly while he finished dressing, his dark gray suit matched with a white shirt and tie in Vallerian purple.