London Falling (30 page)

“Get this straight. I love my son. And I won’t have someone like you dragging him to his knees. And I’m the one with the purse strings. Don’t ever forget that.” He put his hand on her arm and started dragging her toward the door. “You’re leaving. Now.”

Aimee dug her heels in, but she couldn’t gain any traction on the smooth tile. He pulled and her heels scraped across the floor. She held onto the counter as hard as she could, but he was stronger and her grip was loosening.

“Am I interrupting?” someone said from the other doorway.

Simon’s dad stopped in his tracks. Aimee took advantage of the moment and yanked her arm out of his control. She whirled around.

Prince William stood in the kitchen doorway.

Oh. My. God.

She reached up to fix her hair before realizing that she still wore the stupid dish towel.

William’s eyes darted back and forth between Aimee and Simon’s dad.

What had he overheard? His eyes refocused on Aimee. “Need any help here?”

The desire to say yes was strong. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything to embarrass Simon’s dad, because it would only hurt Simon. And get into a conversation she should not be having with the prince.

“No.” She forced herself to smile at Simon’s dad. “We were just goofing around.”

The prince looked at Simon’s dad for confirmation.

“Er, yes. We were having a bit of fun.” He gave a half-hearted laugh, that didn’t even remotely sound sincere. Thank God his sense of self-preservation kept him from having this out in front of the prince.

Prince William stared at him for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do.

“Can I get you something?” Aimee said to distract him.

“I wanted to compliment you on the fantastic food. I haven’t had fairy cakes in years.” He came around to the stove. “What are those?”

“As soon as I cut them, they’ll be grilled brie and cranberry chutney sandwiches.” Her hands were shaking. First the confrontation with Simon’s dad, and now Prince William was standing right next to her! Her brush with greatness. And he liked her food! “Would you like to try one?”

“If you don’t mind?”

Mind? Was he crazy? “Of course not.” She turned to pick up a knife and spotted Simon’s dad standing impotently where she’d left him. The look on his face was priceless. His mouth was open in horror and he eyed the knife as if she was about to slice the prince’s throat with it. She started giggling like an idiot. She tried to stop it, but the more she tried, the harder she laughed.

Prince William didn’t say anything. He was probably used to women giggling like nervous schoolgirls around him.

“It’s been a long night,” she said, as if that would explain her uncontrollable giggles.

“Well worth it, I would say. You’re a brilliant cook,” Prince William said.

“She’s not a caterer,” Simon’s dad said, finally coming out of his comatose state. “She’s not getting paid. Not at all.”

Prince William took a bite of the mini-grilled brie and nodded his head.

“You should be. This is fantastic.”

“Thanks,” Aimee said, feeling her face turn red. And then she giggled.

Again. “It was Lucy’s recipe. She’s got great ideas. I just cooked it. The caterer didn’t show up tonight, so I’m just helping out in a pinch. I’m here on vacation.”

“We’re right fortunate you were here then,” Prince William said. “How do you like London so far?”

“I love it,” she said. “I haven’t been to Buckingham Palace, yet.” Was that where he lived? Geez, she felt like such a backwoods hack.

“Have you been to the Tower?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“If you’re here for a few more days, contact my office and I’ll make sure you get a private tour.”

“Oh you’re too kind,” she said. Then she giggled because she didn’t even sound like herself. He was making her so nervous that she was channeling dialogue from a Merchant Ivory film. “I appreciate your offer.”

“What offer?” Simon asked from the doorway.

“What are you doing down here?” Aimee asked.

“Lucy asked me to come down and see if the next round of food was ready.” Simon looked confused. And worried. “What offer?”

“I told her to contact my office for a private tour of The Tower of London. Really, it’s the only way to repay her for this brilliant food, especially since she’s not being compensated for her efforts.” The prince grinned at her and snatched another mini-brie sandwich from the tray.

Aimee smiled back.

Simon seemed annoyed. He walked over to her, slipped his arm behind her back and kissed her on the cheek. “I know. She’s amazing, isn’t she?” He traced patterns on her side with his fingers, almost like a brand.

A smile lifted her lips. Brilliant energy filled her heart. This night was so flippin’ crazy!

Her smile dropped away when she saw the look of pure hatred on Simon’s dad’s face, but she raised her chin. She had Simon and Prince William on her side.

“Where is the next round?” Lucy said from the doorway. She halted in confusion.

“I must get going,” Prince William said. “Make sure you call my office.

Simon has the number.”

Simon’s fingers dug into her side. Aimee smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you to the door,” Simon’s dad said. William looked annoyed, but he nodded.

Once they were through the door, Aimee pulled away from Simon and slid the sandwiches onto a serving platter.

“What did you tell him?” Simon asked.

“What’s going on?” Lucy asked.

Both of them were staring at her. “The prince liked my cooking.” She grinned. They continued to stare at her. “Everything is line. He just wanted to come down and compliment me on my cooking. I told him I was just helping out because the caterer didn’t show. He ate a few of the mini-brie sandwiches and that’s it.”

“Does he think you were being paid?” Simon asked.

At the same time, Lucy asked, “Did you tell him who came up with the recipe for the sandwiches?”

“No and Yes.”

“What?” they both said.

“No, I didn’t tell him I was being paid and yes, I told him whose recipe it was.” Geez, why were they both so worried? “Everything’s line. He was happy.

He knows I’m visiting and I was just helping out. You guys need to calm down.”

“It really is fine?” Simon asked, with a furrow in his brow.

“Yes! Now get back to your party.”

“I am going to have a heart attack tonight. You’re brilliant,” he said, before giving her a quick kiss on the lips. He looked so relieved, with a big grin on his face. She smiled back at him. “We just might pull this off after all!”

“Go. And take this with you,” she said, handing the plate of sandwiches to him. He left and Aimee turned to Lucy. “I just have to put the dip on the bread, and that will be done.”

“I’ll help,” Lucy said. She pulled a serving plate and two spoons over to the counter, while Aimee got the bowl from the mixer. “What’s going on between you and my brother?”

Aimee’s smile faltered. Lucy sounded concerned. Did everyone think she was a gold-digger?

“Nothing is going on,” Aimee said.

Lucy raised her brow. “I’m not blind. I saw the way he was looking at you tonight.”

Aimee sighed. “Maybe something is going on. But nothing serious. I know that there’s no future between us. You don’t have to worry. I’m not out for his money.”

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t think you are out for his money.” She shook her head. “You’re nothing like Nealy.”

Aimee paused with her spoon in the bowl of dip. “Nealy?”

“His fiancée.”

“What?” Aimee dropped her spoon in the dip.

“Ex-fiancee. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Aimee caught her breath again and fished out her spoon. She had a million questions, but she didn’t want to appear too interested. It wasn’t like she had a claim on Simon. “How long ago was this?”

“Hmm. Five years?”

She should let it go. “Where did they meet?” she asked instead.

“University.” Lucy glanced at her. “Oxford. He put himself through while he was working at the bank.”

He worked his way through college? How did she not know this? They were more alike than she ever dreamed. “What happened?”

“My father. Simon’s biggest client declared bankruptcy, and my father told her that Simon was going to be disinherited. Let’s just say that Nealy decided Simon wasn’t as lovable without his money.”

“She broke it off? What a bitch!”

“I agree. But the joke is on her because Simon threw himself into saving the bank and made it even more profitable than before.”

“Good for him.” Aimee dropped her spoon. That explained so much. It must have been a terrible blow to find out the one person who was supposed to love him for richer or poorer only loved him for his money. And it explained why he was so success-driven. Even his dad forced him to dance to his tune in order to be compensated. Simon felt like he needed to earn people’s affection.

Was that why he helped her with the cupcakes? Did he want her affection? Or was it simply a reflex that he practiced with everyone? He gave to everyone, but she was the one person he couldn’t give anything to. Except his time.

Lucy finished piling the appetizers on the plate and turned to Aimee.

“I’m only telling you this because I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “Ever since Nealy left him, Simon doesn’t get serious with anyone. And the only women he dates have as much money or more than he does. I’ve talked to him about it, and he knows that he does it, but he can’t bring himself to trust that someone is going to like him for him. I don’t know what’s going on between you two–”

“You don’t have to say it,” Aimee said. “I know I don’t have any money. I know our relationship isn’t going anywhere. I live on another continent for heaven’s sake.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “And you can be certain that I’m not out for his money.”

Lucy put her hand on Aimee’s arm. “I know that. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Thanks.” Aimee gave her hug. If only she had a friend like Lucy back home. “Don’t worry. I won’t get hurt.”

Once Lucy headed out the door, Aimee rested her head against the cupboard door with her eyes closed. Everything Lucy said explained so much about Simon. And made her love him more. She wanted to be the person who showed him that he was worthy of love–with or without his money. He deserved so much more than life was giving him.

He deserved more than her.

And now his dad was paying off a private detective because of her illegal activities. Once Simon found out, he’d never forgive her, but she couldn’t be the one to tell him. She couldn’t stand to see the look of betrayal on his face when he discovered how close she’d come to ruining his future.

Which was yet another reason she and Simon were doomed.

Simon stood at the door, saying good bye to the guests. “Thank you for coming,” he said to Marjorie Stanford-Best. He helped her into her coat.

“This was a fabulous idea. So ingenious. I’ve never been to a fundraiser like this before. We’ll have to try this for the Homeless Shelter fundraiser.

You say Lucy helped you plan this?”

Simon nodded. He could hear his father and John Stanford-Best talking several feet away.

“You should be so proud of Simon,” John said.

“Chip off the old block,” his father said. Then he whispered something to John and they both chuckled.

“You’re a lucky man,” John said.

What had his father said? He angled his ear towards their conversation, but Marjorie’s voice intruded.

“This is a little something for the Opera,” she said. “We usually wait until the Ball to contribute, but we wanted to help out.”

Simon added the check for £10,000 to his stack inside his coat pocket.

He’d gathered quite a few checks so far this evening. He thanked Marjorie, and she and John headed to their main party for the evening.

“You were right,” he said to his father.

His father tucked his chin down and back with what could only be described as comic disbelief. “And what, may I ask, do you believe I was right about?”

“This event. I honestly didn’t think that anyone from the royal family would attend. And William seemed to enjoy himself.”

His father clenched his teeth and crossed his arms. He’d looked the exact same way after Simon got caught driving his father’s new Mercedes at the age of twelve. “We need to talk about that.”

But the words were barely out of his mouth before Isabella Piccinnini commandeered his father. “We must be going,” she said.

Simon smothered a surprised laugh. His father and Isabella Piccinnini?

This had to be a joke.

“I need to speak with Simon first,” his father said.

“You can talk to him tomorrow. We’re already late as it is,” she said. His father looked ready to protest, but Isabella pouted, and he gave in.

They were out the door in a matter of seconds, and Simon watched his father help Isabella into the back of a limousine. His father, who hated limousines, was helping one of the world’s best Opera singers into the back seat of one. Simon shook his head. Hopefully, he was as virile as his father at that age.

After Simon had said goodbye to the remainder of the guests, he noticed the royal protection officer stepping out of the loo. His radar went up. Why was the bloke still here? Simon thought he’d left with the prince a little bit ago.

“I need to speak to Ms. Kennedy and then I’ll be on my way,” the bloke said.

Simon froze. The officer’s expression gave nothing away. Of course he’d waited until after the event so as not to cause a scene. “Fine.”

Simon’s stomach clenched into knots as he led the way to the kitchen. He rashly thought of distracting the officer and whisking Aimee away, but it wouldn’t have done any good. They already knew who she was.

What were they going to do to Aimee? Arrest her? Deport her? He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to stop them somehow, because he needed her here. He didn’t want to live without her smile, or her laughter, or her generous nature. She was everything he ever wanted in a woman.

He froze on the stairs. The royal protection officer almost slammed into him, but Simon couldn’t care less. His entire world, his entire focus came down to one astonishing realization.