Page 2 of Baby Daddy Protector

I bit back a grin and barely resisted winking at the princess. I was going to be her head of security, at least for this mission. I was going to get a chance to work the troops on the ground, so to speak. I was going to be free at last.

And I was going to enjoy every second of it.

TWO

Four days later, I was seriously reconsidering my life choices.

“Just try it harder, please. Honestly, you won’t hurt me,” the princess’s crisp, calm tone cut through the din of the party echoing down the secluded hall. “I’d expected a SEAL to be more…aggressive.”

Biting back a snarky retort, I leaned back slightly and glanced around from the shadows of the alcove where we were hidden to make sure there were no eavesdropping paparazzi lurking about. This mission was already turning into a major cluster, at least from my perspective. The last thing we needed were compromising photos of Princess Esme splashed all over the tabloids, with the back of her fancy designer dress wide open and my hands fumbling around near her ass.

In truth, the situation was perfectly innocent. She had been schmoozing with world dignitaries in the main ballroom of the National Building Museum. It was a black-tie charity event to help battle poverty in the local community by uniting corporate and world leaders, donors, and volunteers. The theme was “Absinthe Dream,” and the huge marble arcade gallery was decorated with green decorations and lighting. They’d been served a gourmet four-course meal, most items of which I couldn’t identify, then the table had been cleared and a dance floor had been set up with a live band to play music from the forties while the power elite wheeled and dealed.

I had been content to hang back and watch the festivities from the sideline, keeping an eye on my charge and communicating with the rest of my team stationed around the area via the Bluetooth device in my ear. It should’ve been easy-peasy. It turned out to be anything but.

Thankfully, the princess had been just a few feet away from me when one of the ambassadors had accidentally stepped on the train of Esme’s ridiculously frou-frou—and ridiculously expensive—gown. She’d gone to move one way, and the dress hadn’t gone with her due to the ambassador’s ill-placed foot. Next thing I knew, there’d been a tiny, but audible clicking noise, and the back of the princess’s strapless dress had begun to slowly open from the top down. Luckily, my reflexes were hyper-fast from my time in the SEALs, and it was only a moment before I had my arm around her, holding her dress closed as I escorted her quickly from the ballroom and over to this quiet alcove in the hallway.

Normally, I’d have enjoyed the view of a gorgeous woman’s bare back, but the princess was my job, not my girlfriend. Besides, she needed my help right now, not my libido getting out of hand. I tried to coax the broken zipper up again, but my fingers slipped, landing on the smooth, creamy skin of her lower back. Warm and silky.

Not helpful, dude. Not helpful at all.

That’s when the toe-tapping started. A constant clack-clack-clack of her uber-expensive stiletto sandal against the polished marble floor. “Whatever it is you’re doing back there, can you please hurry up?”

“I’m trying, your highness.” I did my best to keep my tone even and bland but figured a bit of annoyance must’ve crept out anyway, given the narrowed look she gave me over her shoulder. The stupid earpiece kept slipping out of my ear because of the angle of my head, and I cursed softly, clicking it off and letting it hang down my chest. I’d be fine protecting the princess myself in this small space, and I’d put the dumb thing back in my ear as soon as I was finished anyway. “That guy did a real number on this zipper. It’s all out of alignment and a couple of teeth are missing. I’m trying to get it to work again but rushing me isn’t helping. This isn’t exactly my forte. I’m used to getting women out of these things, not into them.”

I winced, regretting those words the minute they left my mouth.

Smooth move, dumbass.

God, I’d dealt with raids on sniper-infested enemy villages that were less dangerous than this current situation. Don’t touch, don’t look, don’t think about her at all. Just get the damned dress zipped and get on with it.

“You’d think for what this thing costs, they’d make the zipper out of indestructible titanium or something, right?” I chuckled, hoping to cover my early snafu, but only shoving my foot further into my mouth if her continued silence was any indication. I squinted at the zip and managed to get the pulley wedged over one of the missing teeth so that I could carefully work it upward. “I’ve got it working again, sort of. There’s still an opening near the bottom though, where the zipper doesn’t connect anymore. Got anything in that tiny bag of yours to hold it together, your highness?”

From watching her closely over the last couple of days, I knew she probably did. Esme Hollycombe was nothing if not organized and well-prepared. Plus, she did all those fussy hobbies like knitting and crochet and even embroidery and lace making. I wasn’t the kind of guy to know much about those, except my mom had liked them too. A familiar pang of sorrow stabbed through my chest as I straightened, one hand still holding the open bottom of the zipper closed. Whenever I thought of my parents, God rest their souls, the same grief pinched my heart. It had been twenty-six years since they’d passed and the pain still felt as fresh as it had back then.

“As a matter of fact…” the princess said, digging around in the red satin clutch that was made of the same fabric as her dress. “I do have something.”

I gave a silent snort and grinned. I’d known she would.

“If you can sew.” She twisted around to peer at me. “Can you?”

“I’ll manage.” Truth was, any serviceman worth his salt knew how to do some basic maintenance and repairwork as needed to keep his uniforms inspection-ready. Plus, I’d spent years by my mom’s knee as a kid, watching her do her crafts. Handling a needle and thread came second-nature to me now.

She passed me a needle and a tiny spool of black thread over her shoulder. “It’s the wrong color and the thread is a bit too thick, but if it gets me out of this mess and back into the ballroom, I don’t care.”

I quickly threaded the needle, then kneeled again to stitch together the fabric at the bottom of the zipper.

The princess sighed, and I felt some tension leave her body beneath my hands. “Listen, I’m sorry I snapped at you, Mr. Raybourn. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure lately. That’s no excuse, I know, but I haven’t felt like myself in a while. With my dad’s illness and my cousin gunning to throw our country into chaos as soon as he takes the throne, it’s all such a mess.”

“Considering where we are and what we’re doing, I think you can call me Zachary. Or Zach. Or even Z. That’s what my friends call me,” I said, knotting the thread then biting it off with my teeth. I straightened and handed her back the needle. “Not to step out of line, your highness. You can call me whatever you want.”

She took the needle from me and dropped it back into her tiny bag, then assessed me with a narrowed stare. She really was pretty under all that pomp and circumstance she hid behind. Shoulder-length sable hair, bright hazel eyes, creamy skin for miles, and pretty pink lips. I looked away fast from those. Best not to tempt fate, especially when it was forbidden.

“Fine. Z it is. And you may call me Esme when we’re in private anyway. I doubt that Sutherland would appreciate you being so casual with me in public. Duty and all.” She smiled, and the world seemed to brighten a tad. “Like I said, I really do apologize for being so cross. I’m just worried about everything.”

I relaxed a bit, leaning a shoulder against the marble pillar beside me and crossing my arms. “Yeah. If you don’t mind me saying so, that cousin of yours is a real piece of work. I’d advise you to keep an eye on him. He’s got his eye on the prize, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

“I know.” She shook her head and rested her hips back against the wall behind her. “Sadly, we used to be friends, back in school. Then when my father was diagnosed with cancer and Silvester realized he’d soon be king, it seemed the potential power awaiting him went to his head. Now we barely talk and when we do, it’s only to trade insults with each other.”

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