The Reluctant Prince

by Linda Cajio

Genres: Women's Fiction; Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Author Linda Cajio ratchets up the intrigue in a thrilling story of two people who are inexorably drawn together—and desperate to stay alive.
 
All Emily Cooper wants is some time to heal the wounds from her broken engagement, and Peraco, a city on the Aegean sea, seems like the perfect getaway—until a sudden military coup closes the borders and traps her in a roiling chaos of riots and armed patrols. So much for her relaxing European beach vacation. As she retreats to the American Embassy, a mysterious man insists she will be safer with him. Now Emily must trust an actual prince with her life—and resist the temptation to surrender to his intoxicating charms.
 
Despite his royal family, Alex Kiros works hard to have a normal, everyday life in the States. He came back to Peraco to open a branch of his computer business, unaware that his uncle was about to go off the deep end and plunge the country into chaos. Now Alex is desperate to keep his presence in the city a secret while keeping this American tourist safe at the same time. The odds of them both getting out alive are slim, but there’s something about Emily Cooper that makes Alex want to protect her—at any cost.
 
Includes a special message from the editor, as well as excerpts from these Loveswept titles: The Escape Diaries, The Devil’s Thief, and The Magic.

Release date: January 14, 2013

Publisher: Loveswept

Print pages: 208

Sample

One
 
 
 
Emily Cooper stared at the submachine gun that stared right back at her.
 
“Peraco’s a bargain this time of year,” she muttered while slowly raising her hands in that worldwide gesture of “you’ve got the gun and I don’t.” “That’s the last time I listen to my travel agent.”
 
Nestled between Greece and Turkey, the Best Time Travel agent had told her the tiny country of Peraco had lots of sun, lots of sky blue Aegean sea, lots of rich casino players, lots of cheap rates, and a coronation about to happen.
 
Wanna bet? Emily thought, swallowing back a lump of cold fear. The head of Peraco’s army, General Florian Kiros, had been unhappy with his elder sister’s inheriting the crown. Two days before the coronation, he had cut off the borders and the sea in a coup so swift, everyone was still scrambling to figure out how it had happened. Now people were rioting, either for or against the general, and the capital city of Seriat was in chaos.
 
In the moonlight, Emily could see that the male facing her was young, barely an adult, and that made her situation even more dangerous. Young men panicked faster than older ones. Especially when foolish tourists blundered into them as she had. What a way to soothe a failed marriage and broken engagement. Next time she’d read a good book.
 
The young man called out softly into the dark alley behind him. Clearly, there were others with him. Just what she needed. A party.
 
“I’m an American,” she whispered to him, hoping he understood English.
 
He shoved the gun out toward her in an unmistakable gesture.
 
“Okay, I’m not an American,” she said, raising her hands even higher.
 
“You sound like one,” came a deep whisper from the edge of the alley. It was followed by a man, a real one this time. As he stepped into the moonlight, she noted he was tall, dark, and in his thirties. Close enough to middle age, she thought happily. Like the young man, he wasn’t wearing a uniform, just blue jeans and a jacket. Several other men joined him. She could feel waves of suspicion emanating from the group. She wasn’t out of the woods yet.
 
The tall one’s voice sounded straight out of a good old American Ivy League school, though. In fact, if she weren’t so scared, she would appreciate him more.
 
“Thank goodness,” she said, although she didn’t lower her hands. “I’m trying to get to the American Embassy and I’m lost.”
 
“Stanni?” the man asked the one with the gun, completely ignoring her.
 
“She was just standing here.” He tilted the barrel slightly upward, but not enough for Emily to relax.
 
“Please,” one of the other men begged. “We must go, Highness.”
 
Everyone hissed at the man who’d spoken. The poor soul looked mortified and immediately corrected himself.
 
“Ah … Alex.”
 
It was too late. Emily stared at the tall, dark man in wonder. Highness? He was a Highness?
 
“What are you a Highness of?” she asked, her irrepressible curiosity rising to the surface. “Are you a prince? Are you a king? Where did you get that accent? Harvard?”
 
The other men burst into chatter she couldn’t understand. They all waved and pointed at her as if she’d grown two heads. Emily had a feeling she’d asked the wrong questions.
 
“Why aren’t you safe and sound at a hotel?” the Highness man named Alex finally asked her. He looked thunderous at the giveaway.
 
“Because I wasn’t about to be rounded up and hauled off to Lord knows where,” she snapped. “Hey, you can be the Highness of East Jipip and I promise not to tell a soul.” She nodded to the one called Stanni. “Can he put the gun down now?”
 
“They’ve rounded up tourists?” Alex asked, ignoring her request.
 
She nodded again. “At the Colonnade they have. I managed to escape down the back stairs with several others, but then we got separated trying to get to the embassy. If you boys could just point the way—”
 
“Florian must be insane to be rounding up tourists,” he said to the others, who looked grim and nodded.
 
He was on first-name terms with the perpetrator of this fiasco? Emily thought. She decided getting out of there was her major priority and waved her raised hands. “Now that you know I’m a nice, normal American … can I put these down so you can show me the way to the embassy?”
 
The man didn’t answer. Instead, he said in a cold voice, “This isn’t a stroll in the park. How did you get this far avoiding trouble?”
 
“I don’t know,” she said. She had the distinct feeling she was on trial. “I hid whenever I heard something … which was about every three seconds.”
 
Her little band of tourists had walked away from the hotel and right into a major riot. Everyone had scattered, and she in the wrong direction. She had wandered the back streets, hoping to come across the embassy by herself. That she had avoided trouble so far was a miracle.
 
“Look,” she began, eyeing the gun. Her fear level had dissipated to general wariness. “I’m just a kindergarten teacher from Warminster, Pennsylvania, who’s tired and scared and lost. All I want to do is put my hands down and go to the embassy, okay?”
 
“Where is the Statue of Liberty?” one of the others asked in heavily accented English.
 
“New York City,” she said obediently. Her arms were getting tired, so she’d go along with anything to be done with these men.
 
“Who lives in Hollywood?” asked another.
 
“Ah …” She wondered desperately who was the who he was thinking of. “Movie stars?”
 
“Clint Eastwood,” the man said triumphantly.
 
“Actually, he lives in Carmel,” she corrected him.
 
The man frowned darkly. “Hollywood!”
 
“Hollywood,” she hastily agreed.
 
“Who won World Series?” the first asked.
 
“How the hell do I know?” she said between clenched teeth. The man muttered dubiously.
 
“There’s an easy way to verify her story,” Alex said. “Let’s see your passport.”
 
“I …” Emily swallowed. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this. “I lost it with my purse. I only have my one bag.”
 
She turned the forefinger of one upraised hand down and pointed to the flight bag at her feet.
 
“You don’t have your passport?” He looked ominous. “How could you not have your passport?”
 
“Well, I—”
 
“High—Alex, please. We must go now!” her questioner on things American urged. “Leave the woman and let’s go.”
 
“Cosmo’s right,” young Stanni said. “We must go … but we must take the woman with us. She knows too much.”
 
Emily gaped at him. “I don’t know anything, and I’m not going anywhere with anybody!”
 
Noise erupted at the other end of the street. People were running around the corner, shouting and smashing windows in a shower of glass. Soldier-filled Jeeps squealed into view to quell the rioters.
 
“Duck!” Alex yelled, then grabbed her arm and pulled her down the alley with the rest of the men. She stumbled over her flight bag and snatched it up, not daring to lose the last piece of herself in this vacation hell.
 
They ran, all of them, their feet clattering on the cobblestones. The noise sounded louder than a submachine gun to Emily’s terrified senses. When they reached a high wooden fence, the men boosted themselves over it. Alex put his hand under her backside and hoisted her into the air. Emily squawked in surprise and indignation, then seized the squared planks and threw herself over to the other side.
 
She fell to the ground, just missing some trash cans. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alex vault effortlessly over the fence. Wonderful, she thought. She was with a Schwarzenegger devotee.
 
“Let’s go!” He yanked her to her feet, whether she was ready or not.
 
She wasn’t. She stumbled along, and the only thing keeping her upright was his hand like iron on her arm.
 
They crept around corners and down alleyways, always keeping to the shadows, until she was dizzy with confusion. Not that she knew where she was anyway.
 
Stanni called something to Alex in their native language. He answered back sharply. All Emily knew in Peracan was how to ask where the library and bathroom were, but she didn’t need a translator to know their conversation was about her.
 
She was gasping for breath, gulping it into her lungs in a desperate attempt to get oxygen to her screaming muscles. She couldn’t run much farther, and if she couldn’t run much farther …
 
Alex yanked her into a doorway.
 
“Patrol,” he whispered. She heard the whine of a Jeep as he dragged her through the door and into a dark hallway.
 
As the Jeep passed without stopping, she realized they were in the lobby of an apartment building. She also realized that Alex had her plastered to the wall, his body pressed protectively over her. Every inch of his torso was against hers, breast to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. He was leaner than she’d thought. He was holding her arms to her sides, and her nose was buried in his shoulder. The man-scent of him filled her senses.