“How else am I supposed to run into you?” he pointed out. “You never gave me your phone number.”
Because he’d never asked. “Yet it appears I’m speaking to you on the phone at this very minute.”
“A bloke has to be resourceful around this island if he wants to ask a princess out on a date. Apparently.”
A little thrill burst through her midsection. After walking away from James at the party, she’d mentally prepared for any eventuality. A woman didn’t get between brothers, and James, for all his squawking about being a bad boy, wouldn’t have pursued her if Will had called dibs.
And then there was always the possibility James would grow weary of all the obstacles between them. She didn’t have any guarantees she’d even hear from him again.
“This is your idea of resourceful? What did you do, hit up Will for my phone number?”
James cleared his throat. “I talked to him. About us.”
That was pretty much an admission of how he’d gotten her number. “Yeah. He told me.”
“Well, half my battle is won. My day will be complete if you would kindly get your gorgeous rear down to the beach.”
Scrambling from the bed, Bella tore off her shorts as she dashed for the dresser and wedged the phone under her chin to pull out a bikini. “What if I’m busy?”
“Cancel. In fact, cancel everything for the rest of the day.”
The rest of the day with James? She was so on board with that plan, she could hardly keep the giddiness in check. But she couldn’t let him know how much she was into him. That was rule number one.
“You’ll have to give me more than that in order for me to clear my schedule.” She whipped her shirt off one-handed, knocking the phone to the floor. She cursed and dove for it. “I’m American. We invented high-maintenance dating. Make it worth my while.”
Head tight to her shoulder so the phone didn’t try another escape attempt, she wiggled out of her underwear.
“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve been all over the world. I’m more than capable of handling one tiny American. If you want to find out how worth it I am, walk out the door.”
“I’m not dressed,” she informed him saucily. Even someone as fashion savvy as Bella couldn’t tie a bikini with one hand. And for some reason, now that he knew she was naked, it was an oddly effective turn-on.
“Perfect,” he purred. “I like a woman who can read my mind. What am I thinking right now?”
If it was anything close to what she was thinking, a public beach was not the best place for them to be together. “You’re thinking that you’d better hang up so I can, you know, leave the house.”
His laugh rolled through her and then cut off abruptly as the call ended. She hummed as she threw on her bikini and covered it with a short dress made of fishnet weave.
She hit the foyer in under three minutes and almost escaped without her security detail noticing her stealthy exit, when she heard the voice of doom call out behind her.
“Isabella.”
Groaning, she turned to face her father since the cover up was just as see-through from the front as the back. The faster she withdrew from his clutches, the better. “Yeah, Dad.”
“I understand you told Will Rowling you weren’t interested in him. I’m very disappointed.”
Of course he was. He’d have to smooth things over with Patrick Rowling and figure out another way to make everyone miserable.
“That’s me. The disappointing daughter,” she admitted lightly, hoping if she kept her cool, the extraction might go faster. She had a man waiting patiently for her on the beach.
“You cannot continue behaving this way. Marriage to Rowling will settle you and nothing else seems to work to that end. You must repair your relationship with him.”
His hand flew up to staunch the protest she’d been about to voice.
“No, Isabella. This is a serious matter, among other serious matters I must discuss with you. However, I’m expected to accompany Gabriel to a royal function. Be here when I get back,” her father commanded.
“Sure, Dad.” She fled before he could tell her when he’d be back because then she could claim ignorance when she wasn’t here.
Her stomach tightened as she walked down the narrow cliffside stairs to the beach. Why couldn’t she have timed that better? The encounter put a damper on the joy she’d had since the moment she’d heard James’s voice.
When her toes sank into the sand, she scoured the sun-worshippers for a glimpse of the whipcord physique she couldn’t erase from her mind. James was easy to spot in a turquoise shirt that shielded his British complexion from the rays. Sunglasses covered his beautiful eyes and as always, he wore the expensive watch he never seemed to leave home without. He lay stretched out on a towel off to the side of the crowd, lounging in his own little cleared area.