Love in Fantasy (Skeleton Key) (9 page)

Andrew wanders through the palace gardens, following the directions given to him and trying not to get lost. The grounds are incredible, and he can’t wait to see this special garden the king had told him about. He’d only recently moved to the country to set up a lab for an in-depth study of the land and how they can increase more productive crops and use plant biology for other resources.

He’d been very curious to meet one of the princesses who is in a similar field, but had yet to make her acquaintance. After showing interest in the garden that was, apparently, her baby, one of her sisters suggested he might find her there. When he spots the door, he can’t help laughing at the idealistic picture it creates, transporting you to another time and place. Frances Hodgson Burnett would be proud. The door opens easily, despite its weight, and he steps inside, halting on a gasp. It’s the most incredible, magical, unbelievably gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. And, the garden is amazing, too.

“You!” a sweet voice exclaims, her hazel eyes blinking at him, mirroring the same astonishment he’s feeling. He dreamt about her. This is the woman he spent his night fantasizing about. With this realization, there is an even stronger emotion overriding the surprise. Possessiveness. There is no doubt, in his mind or heart, this woman is meant for him. He strides over to her and lifts her from the chair where she is reading, and his mouth crashes down on hers. Satisfaction roars through him when she melts like butter, and one word pings around in his head like an erratic pinball.

Mine.

Double the trouble

I
can’t deny the power of love at first sight after meeting Philippa St. Claire. In fact, I’m putting a whole lot of faith in the idea right now. It’s not like I pay much attention to the love lives of other people, well, not until now anyway. So, I really had no clue whether most of the St. Claire sisters were in a relationship or not. I don’t dwell on it overly much; it’s Wilhelm’s job to play matchmaker.

Kinsey, Beth’s twin, is a fashion designer and up until a few weeks ago, was living in Paris doing an extended internship. I would like to kiss whomever convinced her to move back because getting Wilhelm to her would have been a bitch. As it turns out, we are both attending the same charity function tonight. Pippa is being stubborn, as usual, so I’m going stag. I don’t care for these dinners, anyway. Although, I would have enjoyed seeing my girl in a sexy dress. Then again, I don’t know if I could have handled all of the other men seeing her in it.

I have to make an appearance and it will give me the chance to slip Kinsey the key before I make an unnoticed exit. It turns out to be easier than I expected. Kinsey isn’t the same boisterous, fun-loving girl I remember. She puts on a good front, chatting and smiling but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

She spots me and, for once, I see a spark of the old her in those hazel eyes. She hurries over to me and throws her arms around me in a hug. I stagger back a little, taken off guard by the affectionate action. Wilhelm does his little dance in my pocket. “Hey, Oliver!” she exclaims. “It’s good to see you.”

My brow lifts, wondering what she’s up to. “I don’t recall you even knowing I was alive when you were young, Kinsey.”

She laughs and looks around, frowning when she doesn’t see what she’s looking for. “Where’s Pippa?”

Ah, now it makes sense. I grin and shake my head. “Were you attempting to make my woman jealous, Kinsey?”

She laughs and shrugs. “Whatever it takes.” The light in her eyes dims just slightly. “She shouldn’t waste time and risk you giving up and walking away.”

Well, that’s interesting.

“Never going to happen,” I state firmly, my time leaving zero room for argument.

“Oh, I know. I’m—anyway. She should realize a great thing when she’s got it.” She pats my cheek and winks. “Good luck, Oliver.”

Leaning down, I kiss her cheek, drop the key into her purse, and whisper, “If he let you walk out the door, he was obviously an idiot. Don’t lose hope in finding your true love. Someone worthy of you.”

I stand back up, and she looks at me inquisitively. “Thanks. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I say sympathetically.

“Well, anyway, it really is nice to see you, Oliver.” She gives my arm a squeeze, and I lift my chin in farewell before slipping out.

This guy is obviously back in France. I mentally bang my head against a wall and send a telepathic lecture to Wilhelm. This one is going to be twice as hard to accomplish as Beth’s. He’ll need to have some kind of unicorn up his sleeve to pull it off.

At home, I hang my tux up and stare at my closet. Another night of tossing and turning without Pippa doesn’t sound appealing. I decide to spend some time clearing space for my woman when I finally have her in our home.

Meanwhile. . .

Kinsey’s Fantasy

K
insey stares at herself in the mirror of the ladies room at the banquet hall hosting a charity ball. There was a time when she’d never gone to any kind of function dateless. Before she’d gone to Paris and met Cole, subsequently attending every function alone from then on. He certainly wasn’t going to accompany her, and she couldn’t bear to go with anyone else.

Mostly, she stopped attending social events at all, but her employer had a lot to do with this charity and since the company was based in Paris, representing them at functions here was one of their stipulations for her moving back to her own country. She is setting up a new fashion house here and works remotely for everything she can, though it will require the occasional trip back.

She loathed the idea of going back and running into Cole. He’d been her supervisor for her internship and, despite working directly under him (if only that pun was intended . . . wishful thinking and all that bullshit), he barely noticed she was alive. No matter how hard she tried, excelling in every task he gave her, wearing the sexiest clothes she could get away with and still be professional, nothing seemed to draw his attention her way. To be fair, no woman had his attention. He was so focused on the job; he was practically blind to the rest of life. The weird thing was, she could have sworn the attraction was mutual.

After the internship was over, she’d taken a permanent position with the company, hoping once he was no longer her supervisor, he’d open his eyes and notice her. The fashion house had already approached her with the idea of expanding to her country and after discussing it with her father, she knew it would do her homeland a lot of good. Still, she put off giving them a final answer until it became abundantly clear—Cole was never going to come around.

So, she left and here she is. Her gown is a silver couture piece (another perk of the job—wearing the clothes). The matching shoes remind her of Cinderella’s and she winces as she shifts. It’s easy to imagine glass slippers being this uncomfortable, too. She pulls the pins from her bun, allowing her long, mahogany hair to tumble down her back, and sighs. The tension headache forming eases, and she runs her fingers through the strands before deciding it’s as good as it’s going to get and leaves the bathroom.

As she pulls open the door, something clatters to the floor from her purse. She kneels down and looks around but all she sees is a blue-tinted skeleton key made of thick glass. It doesn’t look familiar, and she isn’t sure how it came to be in her purse. She picks it up, noting it weighs at least a pound, making her wonder how she hadn’t noticed it in her purse.

Still staring at the key, she walks through the open door, but quickly comes to a halt when she looks up and sees she’s in some kind of foyer, judging by the thick gold doors and the lavish, crystal chandelier hanging above her head. She must have gone through the wrong door, although, she could have sworn the bathroom only had one exit. Turning around, she goes to push the door back in but . . . where the fuck did the door go?

Taking deep breathes, Kinsey tries to make sense of what’s happening, avoiding the possibility that she might be having a mental breakdown. Figuring the best course of action is to see where the other doors dump her out, she examines them. The key is still clenched in her fist, and as she bends down to look at the lock, she feels it vibrate. Her hand opens and she drops the key as though it had burned her. It lies on the ground, glowing slightly blue, and she gets the distinct impression that it unlocks the door in front of her. Another deep, calming breath. Picking up the key, she inserts it into the lock and turns. Without provocation, the door glides open, the key still in the lock, and she’s staring at the same lobby she’d come from when she entered the bathroom. Bringing two fingers to each temple, she rubs slowly, the tension headache beginning to return.

“Kinsey.”

Kinsey freezes at the sound of the voice.
Holy fuck!
Wow, her imagination had clearly started working overtime as if she was hearing Cole’s voice when other men spoke to her. Except . . . the spicy scent surrounding her was so much like Cole’s aftershave. The heat at her back, the goosebumps suddenly all over her body, the butterflies in her belly, the French accent that dissolves her into a puddle of want, they all indicated that if this isn’t Cole, it’s his doppelganger.

“Kinsey. Bébé.”

Did he just call me baby?
Seriously. What. The. Fuck? Kinsey spins around and glares at the beautiful man who never fails to make her weak in the knees. And, it really, really wasn’t fair that she seemed to be the only one on the verge of spontaneously combusting from lust when they were around each other. This time, though, the hurt and anger were strong enough to help her keep her composure. Otherwise, she might have simply melted, and how embarrassing would that have been?

“Cole.” Her voice doesn’t waiver, coming across emotionless, and she barely restrains a fist pump in victory. Maybe she would actually walk away with her dignity intact, only in her dreams had she ever been able to keep her composure around Cole. “What are you doing here?”

He looks so much the same—tall, lean, and curly brown hair. Heartbreakingly handsome. His brown eyes, framed by long, black lashes, pierce through her, and she fights the temptation to squirm. She always felt like he could see inside her and wondered how it was he could ignore the burning passion and love she had for him. There is something in his gaze she’s never seen before. Or, a more apt description might be that she can see everything in his eyes, as though he’s removed walls she hadn’t been able to see past before. And, what she sees is freaking her the fuck out.

“I’m here for you, Kinsey.” His velvety voice is almost her undoing. He prowls closer and Kinsey backs up, desperately trying to keep distance between them. There is hunger is his gaze; he’s staring at her like she is his next meal.

Shaking her head, she puts a hand out to stop his advance. “Arrêtez,” she begs raggedly.

“Non, bébé,” he answers with a scowl.

One more step back and Kinsey bumps into another body. “Sorry!” she apologizes as she tries to catch her balance. There is a bit of a shuffle and Kinsey seizes the opportunity to take off in the crowd. To her shock, she’s in the middle of the same ballroom, but everything is different. The room is lit by oil sconces; the women are dressed in large, fairytale-type ball gowns, while the men are dressed much as the princes are in the same stories. They are dancing the waltz, spinning around the room, and suddenly she’s being swept away in the same dizzying pattern.