The Billionaire Prince’s Surprise Son by Leslie North

8

Summer had been in Mynia for a month now, and she felt like she was finally getting the hang of things. Not just the fellowship—although that was a challenge she relished in and of itself—but her life in general. Every morning, she got Harry ready for Alma, who now handled childcare out of Nic’s house. She spent the day working with her own patients or shadowing Dr. Buckham, who was gifted when it came to identifying tricky childhood illnesses. Her own talents as a diagnostician, which was already a strong point, were rapidly improving under his tutelage. Finally, at the end of the day, she’d head back to Nic’s large beach-front mansion, and get Harry fed, bathed, and tucked into bed.

Nic was usually out of the house before she was, although he always sent Felix back for her. He didn’t return until later at night, either, looking exhausted. He put in a full shift and then some at the hospital, acting as both a doctor and part-time administrator, from the looks of it. They were usually too busy with their respective jobs to interact much, which was good—no one on the staff seemed to suspect that they were living under the same roof, even if it was platonically.

“I’m sorry,” he often said, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek when he arrived home. “Things have just been a bit crazed.”

She’d taken to staying up later herself. After she’d gotten Harry down to sleep, she’d wait on Nic’s comfortable overstuffed couch, getting up to warm up the chef’s delicious dinners. She got the feeling that Nic, often over-tired and distracted, missed more meals than he realized. He always seemed grateful when she placed the dishes out on the table, insisting that he sit. He’d ask about Harry, which was gratifying, although not as much as if he’d actually get the chance to see his son. And he’d ask about her—how she was doing, what she was working on, how things were going with the fellowship. If she was comfortable in the house and on the island. If she needed anything.

They’d inevitably end the evening with him going to his home office, needing to go over some sort of research or new policy initiatives for the kingdom before he’d finally go to sleep. And she’d pad off to her guest bedroom… alone.

Considering the past they’d spent, she acknowledged that she might like to do more than sleep alone, and soon.

She took a deep, fortifying breath and walked towards his hospital office, a room she rarely visited. It was six o’clock, and his shift ought to be ending. She was determined to get him to clock out on time for once, then bring him back to his house for a family meal with her and Harry. And then, once she got Harry to bed, she’d suggest that maybe he could take one day off from work—just a few hours—and relax. They could watch a movie, maybe.

Netflix and chill.

She felt a blush heat her cheeks. It wasn’t that she was trying to seduce him, per se. But she wasn’t taking getting physical off the table, either, if he decided there were other ways they might relax.

She knocked on his door, and he answered with a gruff “come in.” She smiled, shutting the door behind her. “Hey, you.”

He looked up at her, blinking owlishly over the papers strewn across his desk. “Hi,” he answered, his voice husky. “What are you doing here? Everything all right?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly. “I just… it’s, um, six o’clock.”

“Is it?” He glanced down at his watch. “I see. I got caught up, lost track of time. There was a scheduled surgery this morning, and then we had some new patients admitted…” He sighed. “The usual, I suppose. How are you doing?”

“Better than you are,” she said, not wanting to beat around the bush. “You look tired, Nic.”

His laugh was rough, and he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Yes, well. If kids would stop jumping off the top rung of jungle gyms, and we could get ahead of some congenital diseases,” he said, “and if the health ministry would stop suggesting tweaks to the existing health care policy based on whims that I then need to research and write white papers on, explaining and justifying their existence…”

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” she said. Too much. He already seemed to do the work of two doctors, and now he was throwing the work of head of health care services for the country on top of it as part of his duty as Crown Prince. Did the guy ever sleep? “But it is possible to push a bit too hard, you know.”

Now he focused on her, his gaze like sky blue frost. “I assure you, I can handle it.”

She sighed. “Remember, back when we worked together in L.A., and you told me you liked how straightforward I was?”

He pulled back slightly, puzzled by her sudden change of topic. “Yes?”

“Here’s me being straightforward. You’re going to burn out if you keep this up.”

He blinked, then let out a short bark of laughter. “Well. That’s me told.”

“I’m saying this because I genuinely care about you,” she said, trying to take the sting out of her words. “You spend the week working at the hospital, you’re up early and late, and weekends you have meetings and conference calls with cabinet members and health care system staff. You’re burning the candle at both ends. In fact, I think you’ve somehow added wicks sticking out of the middle.”

He shook his head. “It looks bad from the outside,” he admitted. “But it’s simply the nature of the position. And you get used to it.”

“Do you, though?” she asked doubtfully.

“God, yes.” His mischievous grin was surprisingly boyish, reminding her of when she’d first gotten to know him. “Remember pulling those long shifts as residents? Eating stale granola bars and drinking that wretched, battery-acid hospital coffee, just to keep going for thirty-six hours?”

She shook her head. “I was trying to block it out.”

He chuckled. “It was like treading water in the middle of the ocean,” he said. “But you got used to it. After a while, you even learn to thrive.”

“That’s because you learned to sneak in things,” she pointed out. “Food… naps…”

Suddenly, his gaze heated, and his smile turned fierce. “Other things,” he said suggestively, his voice suddenly downright sinful.

Her cheeks heated. Actually, her whole body heated, simmering with recently awoken need and quickly rising passion. She batted her eyes at him. “I definitely remember other things,” she breathed. “It’s amazing how creative you could be, with just a few minutes and a cramped little storage space.”

She could see his breathing quicken, ever so slightly, and his eyes went low-lidded. Her whole body went taut.

“Say,” she said, playfully, as if she’d just thought of it. “There’s a broom closet outside this office, isn’t there?”

His smile went wider. “You know, I think there is.”

“I think I need to find a, erm, broom.” Her smile was full of invitation. “Maybe you could show me your… supplies?”

“Really.” His voice was warm, and he got to his feet. “I suppose I could take a minute. Wouldn’t want you to miss what you were looking for.”

She felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through her like a firework. Like teenagers, they glanced up and down the hallway, then popped into the nearby broom closet, turning on the light and shutting the door. It felt ridiculous, and foolish, and simply fun.

His hands were on her before the door completely shut, framing her face as his mouth closed hungrily over hers. She let out a low sigh of appreciation, then grabbed his shirt, her fingers bunching in the material and tugging him closer, closer. The mint and chocolate taste of him, suggesting he still had the same sweet tooth… the spicy, woodsy scent of him… the sheer heat coming off of his broad chest. It all added up to an intoxicating overwhelm of her senses, and she pressed herself against him, wishing that all their clothes weren’t in the way.

The action seemed to spur him on. He slid his hands down her shoulders, around her waist, down the small of her back before tugging her hips to pull her body flush against his obvious hardness. She moaned softly against his mouth, and he took advantage of her lips parting, his tongue teasing hers. She ran her fingers along his square stubble-roughened jaw before linking them behind his neck, holding on for dear life as their mouths fused together and their breathing turned harsh with desire.

“Nic,” she all but sobbed, her voice soft and urgent. His answering growl had her heart pounding in her chest.

The confines of the closet were tight, the light dim. They almost knocked over a bundle of brooms and mops as he nudged her towards the wall, doing a full-body press and lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist. Feeling him nudge against her center was maddening, making her only want more of him. Her hips canted forward, eager for more. Eager for him.

Suddenly, there was a banging on the door. Nic and Summer froze, jolted out of their passionate interlude. And Summer just as suddenly realized: oh my God, I am in a broom closet with the Crown Prince who is also a hospital administrator, making out like the world’s about to end. And we totally almost had sex.

As her mother used to say, she had lost her ever-loving mind.

“Whoever you are, I’ll give you two minutes to get out before Dr. Hansen finds out what you’re up to,” someone—Dr. Buckham, perhaps?—said with stern authority. Then they heard a muttered, “ugh, pesky residents” added to it as the footsteps retreated.

Summer let out a surprised laugh, then buried her face against Nic’s neck before she could make more noise. She could feel him shaking with suppressed laughter, as well. Slowly, she placed her feet on the floor, getting her giggles under control.

“Um… so. That was…?” Nic said, releasing her and adjusting himself, cursing softly under his breath.

“That was very,” she answered with an embarrassed laugh, even as her body all but screamed with frustration. “But probably not the best location.”

“Or timing,” Nic agreed, running his fingers through his hair to try to bring it back to some semblance of order.

“Maybe it’d be better if we went back to your house,” she suggested slowly. “We can eat some dinner, and get Harry to sleep, and then, maybe…?”

She let the invitation hang there, and held her breath.

His resulting sigh sounded truly regretful; she’d give him that. He stroked her cheek, then leaned down to kiss her, softly, with just enough heat to let her know she wasn’t the only one affected by their two minutes in the closet.

“I just need to handle some things from the ministry,” he said apologetically. “Things that will be easier done here, where I have access to the databases and can work from my office. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

She bit her lip, then nodded.

This was going to be harder than she thought.