Read Online Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men, #1) by Jenny Gardiner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jenny Gardiner
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any prizes in the humanitarian department.”
“And cooking a good omelet does for me?”
“Good point. But still, you give me pause to wonder what I’m doing that is relevant in this life.”
“Hold that thought.” Emma raised her index finger, got up from the table and grabbed her laptop that she’d left near the door. She sat back down, opened it up and started typing into a search engine. “Aha, just what I thought.
“‘Monaforte’s Prince Adrian, at the opening of a homeless shelter in the nation’s capital,’” she recited from a news story. “‘His Royal Highness Prince Adrian, heir to the throne of Monaforte, visits infirmed children at a local hospital along the coastal town of Principia.’ Wait, wait, here’s another: ‘Prince Adrian hugs a grieving mother whose child died in an avalanche in the Alpine village of Alise.’”
She threw Adrian an I-told-you-so glance. “So let’s dispense with the ‘I’m useless’ mentality and appreciate the ‘that with which we have been blessed’ one, got it?”
“Okay, you win. I’ll concede I’m able to use my position as a platform to help others. But I am still not convinced that I have a higher purpose. Maybe it’s still to be determined. Like you, you’re a fabulously talented photographer, I assume.”
“Damn straight I am,” she said, laughing. “Nevertheless, we’re talking apples and oranges, my life and yours, though. And not like that makes me any great savior. Let’s just be happy with we are who are.”
“Indeed. And that you had a getaway car at just the right moment for poor, poor pitiful me. You’re my savior, at least.” He grinned at her.
“And I’ll be grateful I have you here to help me do the dishes. So roll up your sleeves,” she said, pointing to his bare arms, sleeveless since he’d removed his shirt while prepping the meal, “and let’s knock this out so we can figure out the rest of your vacation.”
“Deal,” he said. “But, er, um, I’m afraid you’re going to have to teach me how to wash pans. I haven’t a clue.”
“You’re hopeless, you know that?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
Chapter Six
E mma sat glued to her laptop, cranking out an email to Caroline.
“Oh, girl, you are so not going to believe what I’ve been up to.”
She’d put Adrian on the nearby sofa and turned on Nickelodeon, figuring he’d be perfectly entertained with classic sitcoms for a while.
She proceeded to fill in the blanks on what had transpired over the past twelve hours, adding her friend was sworn to secrecy on all of the above.
“I alternate between being all fan-girl that I’ve got this handsome prince as my captive at the beach house, and wanting to dope-slap myself that I am even thinking of him as a handsome prince. I have no business going there in my brain. He is so far off limits for me he’s practically within limits.
“Argh, maybe that’s the problem. He’s actually very approachable and normal even, yet he’s never even cooked a meal before. Can you imagine? Who hasn’t stepped foot in a kitchen to prepare a meal? Unfathomable what that life must be like. Although I think he’s really chaffing at the rules and restrictions. I guess even those with unlimited everything have limitations. It seems his mother is calling the shots on his marriage. He said she’d let him ‘sow his wild oats’ and now it’s time to buck up and do what’s right for the family. I guess it’s all fine and good to sow those oats, but you can’t harvest them and eat the bread from it! I can’t imagine my mother telling me whom to marry! Although as we all well know, she would give up her first-born child to see me married, except that I’m her first-born — make that only— child. Then she could stop worrying about my availability shelf-life. I swear the woman thinks I’m a tub of yogurt about to spoil. Ahhh, well, I have to run. Now that I’m royal social director I’ve got to
“And cooking a good omelet does for me?”
“Good point. But still, you give me pause to wonder what I’m doing that is relevant in this life.”
“Hold that thought.” Emma raised her index finger, got up from the table and grabbed her laptop that she’d left near the door. She sat back down, opened it up and started typing into a search engine. “Aha, just what I thought.
“‘Monaforte’s Prince Adrian, at the opening of a homeless shelter in the nation’s capital,’” she recited from a news story. “‘His Royal Highness Prince Adrian, heir to the throne of Monaforte, visits infirmed children at a local hospital along the coastal town of Principia.’ Wait, wait, here’s another: ‘Prince Adrian hugs a grieving mother whose child died in an avalanche in the Alpine village of Alise.’”
She threw Adrian an I-told-you-so glance. “So let’s dispense with the ‘I’m useless’ mentality and appreciate the ‘that with which we have been blessed’ one, got it?”
“Okay, you win. I’ll concede I’m able to use my position as a platform to help others. But I am still not convinced that I have a higher purpose. Maybe it’s still to be determined. Like you, you’re a fabulously talented photographer, I assume.”
“Damn straight I am,” she said, laughing. “Nevertheless, we’re talking apples and oranges, my life and yours, though. And not like that makes me any great savior. Let’s just be happy with we are who are.”
“Indeed. And that you had a getaway car at just the right moment for poor, poor pitiful me. You’re my savior, at least.” He grinned at her.
“And I’ll be grateful I have you here to help me do the dishes. So roll up your sleeves,” she said, pointing to his bare arms, sleeveless since he’d removed his shirt while prepping the meal, “and let’s knock this out so we can figure out the rest of your vacation.”
“Deal,” he said. “But, er, um, I’m afraid you’re going to have to teach me how to wash pans. I haven’t a clue.”
“You’re hopeless, you know that?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
Chapter Six
E mma sat glued to her laptop, cranking out an email to Caroline.
“Oh, girl, you are so not going to believe what I’ve been up to.”
She’d put Adrian on the nearby sofa and turned on Nickelodeon, figuring he’d be perfectly entertained with classic sitcoms for a while.
She proceeded to fill in the blanks on what had transpired over the past twelve hours, adding her friend was sworn to secrecy on all of the above.
“I alternate between being all fan-girl that I’ve got this handsome prince as my captive at the beach house, and wanting to dope-slap myself that I am even thinking of him as a handsome prince. I have no business going there in my brain. He is so far off limits for me he’s practically within limits.
“Argh, maybe that’s the problem. He’s actually very approachable and normal even, yet he’s never even cooked a meal before. Can you imagine? Who hasn’t stepped foot in a kitchen to prepare a meal? Unfathomable what that life must be like. Although I think he’s really chaffing at the rules and restrictions. I guess even those with unlimited everything have limitations. It seems his mother is calling the shots on his marriage. He said she’d let him ‘sow his wild oats’ and now it’s time to buck up and do what’s right for the family. I guess it’s all fine and good to sow those oats, but you can’t harvest them and eat the bread from it! I can’t imagine my mother telling me whom to marry! Although as we all well know, she would give up her first-born child to see me married, except that I’m her first-born — make that only— child. Then she could stop worrying about my availability shelf-life. I swear the woman thinks I’m a tub of yogurt about to spoil. Ahhh, well, I have to run. Now that I’m royal social director I’ve got to
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