Page 13 of Trapped with the Undercover Prince

Chapter Three

Zar came out of thebathroom expecting to see Anna curled up like a cat, asleep under the covers. He didn’t expect her to be face down on top of the blankets and spread out like a starfish over half the bed.

He chuckled, delighted by her yet again. He’d lost count of the number of times she’d made him laugh at some unexpected response or answer. Even during the worst moments after the explosion, she’d managed to keep him thinking creatively with her ideas and suggestions.

Dr. LeBlanc had said the same thing of her surgical technique.

He’d explained that most surgeons practiced the same skills, processes, and procedures over and over again until they mastered their specialty. Which was wonderful if you performed thousands of knee replacements or tonsillectomies.

Anna was a trauma surgeon, someone who saw no end of unique injuries, and she’d learned to evaluate each injury as if it were the first time she’d ever held a scalpel. She assumed nothing and examined everything.

LeBlanc had been generous with his praise. “She took the time to discuss every step of the procedure and stopped often to involve the rest of the team. So creative! It was like watching an artist fill a canvas or a sculptor shape stone, and the result was more than functional. Initially, we thought the young lady would lose her leg, but Dr. Anna showed us a new way of looking at dislocations of the extremities where crushing injuries have also occurred. We’re hoping to gain her approval in writing this up as a case study.”

Zar had the distinct impression that Le Blanc was also going to offer her a job.

He wanted to spend more time with her, discover more about this woman who seemed kinder and freer than anyone he’d ever met. He’d never known a woman who traveled with nothing more than a backpack of belongings for more than a week. Intelligent, confident, and compassionate, she was lovely, inside and out.

She was also a bed hog.

His phone buzzed, and he stepped away from the bed and across the room while he answered it.

“Jean Paul?”

“Sir, several different news agencies have published photos of you from the train station explosion with speculation about why you were there. And at least one of the paparazzi got a picture of you with the doctor. I’ve sent you a link to the news site. How do you want to handle these issues?”

“One moment while I look at the pictures,” Zar said, clicking the link.

The photos of Zar showed him covered in dust, directing people as the firemen helped get the pregnant woman out off the train. Another showed him helping Anna as she ran next to the stretcher. The last photo was of him and Anna getting out of the car at the hotel; he had her by the hand and was smiling at her. The kind of smile a man gives a woman he wants. She was blushing. Anyone seeing this photo would know what was going on between them, and any attempt to paint the situation another way would not be believed.

He glanced at Anna. Could he convince her to go along with what the public assumed he was doing: romancing an intelligent, beautiful woman? He couldn’t allow the terrorists to think he was closing in on them.

He put the phone back to his ear. “Jean Paul, for the moment, we have no comment, but tomorrow I’ll speak to Anna. Perhaps she’ll agree to participate in hiding our real purpose at the train station by letting the world think she and I are involved.”

“Sir,” Jean Paul’s tone was chiding. “You are involved with her.”

“Yes, she’s unlike any woman I’ve met before. Make arrangements for us to take the next train to Cime. Tonight, if possible. Anna was going there anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zar ended the call, put his phone on the coffee table, then managed to coax Anna under the blankets. He slid in next to her. She mumbled something unintelligible and stretched over most of his chest and hugged him like he was a great big teddy bear. He cupped her head with one hand and laid the other on her back and closed his eyes, content in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He woke to find Anna had wrapped herself around him with arms and legs. She was a warm weight on him, and he ran his hands across her shoulders and down her back. Her head was on his shoulder, and her hair smelled like the lavender shampoo that the hotel provided.

She shifted, then lifted her head and looked around.

“Zar?” she said, her voice husky with sleep. “What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock on the side table. “It’s eleven in the morning.”

“Oh.” She blinked slowly a couple of times, then lay her head back where it had been.

He had other ideas. He slid his hands over her smooth, soft skin and turned her onto her back. He began kissing her neck up to her jaw and finally her luscious mouth.

She moaned as he nipped and nibbled on her lips before kissing her deep. “Anna, do you—?”

“Yes,” she interrupted in a hoarse whisper. “I need you.”

Relief made him dizzy. His hands slipped under her shirt and slowly moved higher until he cupped her heavy breasts.

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