Free The Star Princess by Susan Grant Page B

him another laugh.
    Did all his opinions entertain her? It seemed so. For the life of him, Ché couldn't determine what she found so funny. Could he not maintain his dignity around this woman? "I require your advice with which to choose temporary lodging for my holiday."
    "It's too late to find a room. You can stay in my place tonight. We'll worry about the rest tomorrow."
    She walked to the staircase. He remained rooted where he was. "You employ a chaperone?" He would have thought she'd have to summon one.
    "A chaperone?" She clearly struggled not to laugh.
    "We cannot stay alone together. It's a breach of propriety. It will cause a scandal."
    "Who'll know? Unless you're planning to call home and confess."
    He stuttered. Great Mother, he'd never stuttered in his life! "I’ ll will do no such thing."
    Ilana's eyes twinkled delightedly. "I won't say anything, either. I don't have a chaperone. Or a cook, or a chauffer. No plants, no pets, no roommate. But I do have a guest room. That's where you'll sleep, nice and safe. If you're that worried about me assaulting you, you can lock the— oh, damn!" She froze, her eyes widening as she peered over his shoulder at the street.
    "Paparazzi!" she hissed.
    His body tensed, ready to do battle. A figure crouched behind a ground car, aiming what Ché recognized as a camera.
    Ilana grabbed his chin and wrenched his head around. "Don't let him get a shot of your face. Where are your sunglasses?" She yanked them from his coat pocket and slid them over his eyes. "Don't talk."
    He opened his mouth to speak, and she pressed her finger to his lips. "If I were on a foreign planet," she said past gritted teeth, "and a representative of the indigenous species had just given me critical instructions, I wouldn't argue!"
    She stood so close, clothed only in that distracting, insubstantial tiny shift. His senses soared to full alert, as in Bajha swordplay when he fell within striking range of his opponent. Her warm finger pressed against his lips.
    When her awareness of him flared in her eyes, he saw it. Holding himself very still, he watched her react to the feel of his mouth on her finger, the prick of his barely surfaced whiskers, the feel of his breath, the intensity of his stare.
    She dropped her hand with satisfying swiftness.
    Pleased, he smiled. In this particular arena, at least— man and woman— he'd been able to maintain his advantage.
    "This has never happened before," she growled.
    It took him a moment to process that she meant the man wielding the camera. "The press usually ignores me," she continued explaining under her breath. "I'm not as colorful as the rest of my family."
    "I beg to differ," Ché muttered in Basic.
    "It has to be because of the invitations. They've gone out, you know. For Ian and Tee'ah's wedding."
    "I well know the wedding," he whispered back dryly.
    She winced. "Oops. I guess you would. Sorry."
    "I am not."
    She smoothed her bangs away from her forehead and stared up at him. Her unruly bleached-blond hair looked soft to the touch. Her eyes were wide, without guile. "Heartbroken?" she asked.
    He reared back. "No."
    "Bitter?"
    "Indeed not."
    She smiled kindly as if she didn't believe him.
    To make matters worse, a tear crawled down his cheek. With the heel of his palm he rubbed moisture from his stinging eyes. Blasted spray. He was many things right now: weary, annoyed, exasperated, disorganized, dissatisfied, and unfocused, to name a few. But lovesick he was not. If not for propriety, he'd grab Ilana's arm, haul her close, and make her see how wrong she was.
    But he could manage courtesy for one night, could he not? Particularly toward the crown prince's sister, who was generous enough to offer him hospitality, though she clearly hadn't expected him, and didn't appear to have any great love for the Vash Nadah, family ties notwithstanding. Tomorrow, however, he'd be on his vacation, and away from this disconcerting woman's scrutiny.
    "Wait here," he ordered. "I will