Читать книгу The Irresistible Prince - Lisa Laurel Kaye - Страница 12

Chapter Three

His Highness, Prince Lucas of the Constellation Isles wiped off a corner of the steamed-up mirror in Annah’s tiny bathroom and glared at his reflection. All of a sudden this hot idea was looking mighty lukewarm. He turned away from the mirror, stripped down and got into the shower.

The steamy water sluicing over him washed away his temporary misgivings. Late last night he had gone to bed feeling optimistic for the first time since he had been handed a wedding deadline. He was a man of action, and it had gone against the grain to waste ten months spinning his wheels on the slick, dating fast track. Now, thanks to Annah, he finally had a game plan, a strategy that was going to help him find the right woman to be his bride. With her plan she had given him a changed identity, a place to stay and something more. Something less tangible but far more important—hope.

He was overwhelmed by her willingness to help him, which even extended to welcoming him into her home. However else he felt about it, there was no doubt that his being Annah’s houseguest was the perfect cover. Even if someone thought they recognized him, they would discount entirely the possibility it could really be he. Why would a prince do such a thing? Somehow it gave him a real lift, knowing that he was anonymous for a change. He had sent his bodyguard away, reasoning that if he wasn’t going to be a prince, he didn’t need one. This was an adventure. What man wouldn’t thrill to the chance of going undercover? And there would be absolutely no danger of a woman falling for him—or pretending to fall for him—because he was a prince.

Only Annah knew. But she was his partner, not a potential bride, and he was glad to have her on his side. He owed Whit and Erik for sending him to her. Not only was she helping him, the fact was he liked Annah; though at times he didn’t understand her at all, and at others it seemed as if there was enough friction between them to start a fire. She loved to tease him, too, and funny thing was he didn’t really mind it. Maybe because she had plenty of sugar to go with her spice.

But even Annah couldn’t sugarcoat this, he thought, when he came out of the shower and faced the mirror again. Thanks to her, the major part of his beard was lying in the trash can, instead of being on his face where it belonged, the badge of manhood he had worn proudly since he was first able to grow it. He had hacked it off with a ridiculously tiny pair of scissors he had found in the medicine cabinet, one of those fearsome, feminine instruments women did God knows what with. As a result, he looked like he had fallen into the clutches of a demented barber—but he knew he would have been demented himself to try to shave his thick beard without thinning it a little first. Now, with his face warm and wet from the steamy shower, he could take the final step.