Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

‘I’m not going to hospital. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. They might take a photo.’

He felt a rush of impatience. ‘Don’t worry—you still look beautiful, and I’ll make sure they only get your good side.’

The look she gave him should have fried him to a crisp. ‘I don’t care how I look, dumbass. I care about what questions the press might ask. And I care even more about seeing their theories expounded in public. But it’s always good to know I’m the fortunate beneficiary of your good opinion. You can leave now. I appreciate you checking on me. I hope you break your nose on the way out.’

He breathed deeply. ‘It was a stupid comment. I apologise.’

She gave a weak laugh. ‘Wow! Now I am worried. I’m hallucinating—or hearing voices or something. Because for a moment there I thought I heard you apologise. I don’t suppose you’d do it again? This time on your knees?’ She gave a weak laugh. ‘Just kidding. Go, Alec. You’re done here. Off the hook.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Why? You think I’m vain, a waste of space. Why would you care what happens to me?’ She closed her eyes again. ‘Newsflash: when a girl hits a crappy part of her life she needs friends around her—not someone who is going to make her feel more crappy.’

He ignored that. ‘Do you feel sick?’

‘Yeah, but it will pass as soon as you’ve left. Don’t take it personally. You’re just not my type.’

It was a relief that she could still take a swipe at him.

‘Good to know. Come on, princess, let’s get out of here.’

‘Princess? Did you seriously just call me princess?’ She cracked open one eye. ‘Are you trying to wind me up?’

‘Yes. If you’re spitting mad, at least I know you don’t have brain damage.’

‘You don’t think I have a brain. How can I have brain damage if I don’t have a brain?’

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; Her muttered retort was so much in character that his concern eased slightly.

‘In case you do have a brain, we need to get you checked out. If you don’t want an ambulance we can take a taxi.’

‘Why are you helping me? You hate me. Hence the reason you call me princess.’

‘I seem to remember that last time we met you called me an asshole, so you’re not exactly complimentary.’

‘Asshat—not asshole.’

‘I think the exact phrase you used was “Professor Asshat”.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Don’t move. I’m going to get a taxi and bring it round to the back entrance. I’ll make sure no one sees you.’

He wondered who she was protecting. Richard Everson or herself?

He stepped out into the snowy street. For once luck was on his side and he hailed a taxi almost immediately. Instructing the driver to wait, he walked back through the rear entrance of the gallery and was surprised to find Skylar standing up and clutching the table for support.

He couldn’t believe she was on her feet. ‘I told you to stay where you were. I’m going to help you.’

‘I don’t need you to help me. My dress is covered in blood. It’s ruined.’

She was shivering, and Alec removed his coat and covered her up.

‘Your dress is the least of your worries.’

‘Not true. We princesses are very particular about how we look. We never know when a handsome prince might come riding by.’

Ignoring the dig, he eyed her bruise. ‘Right now you look more like the heroine from a Hitchcock movie than a princess.’ Her hair was the glistening white-gold of a Caribbean beach in the sunlight. Even streaked with blood, it was her most striking feature.

‘Am I scary?’ She gave a faint smile and let go of the table.