Page 60 of The Unlikely Spare

“Can we please focus on the security situation?” My voice is rough.

“I’m finding it rather difficult to focus on anything else at the moment,” he replies, glancing down. “I’m flattered by your…attention to duty. I wouldn’t consider this the most romantic location for having amorous thoughts, but who am I to question the strange proclivities of the Queen’s protection squad? Perhaps portable loos are considered aphrodisiacs in security circles.”

Fecking hell. Nothing I’ve ever had to suffer through in previous missions compares to the agony of this.

Every tiny movement brings another point of contact between us.

“I never knew protection could be so…thorough,” Nicholas continues.

My earpiece crackles, saving me from having to respond.

“All clear,” comes Cavendish’s voice. “False alarm. Package contained promotional materials. Subject was event staff with incorrect credentials. You are clear to return to program.”

The relief I feel is matched only by my mortification.

“We’re clear to exit, sir,” I say stiffly.

Nicholas holds my gaze for a long moment, something unreadable passing across his face.

“Pity,” he says softly. “Just when things were getting interesting.”

I reach behind him to unlatch the door, trying desperately to create some space between us. I fail miserably, my arm brushing against his chest, sending another jolt through my already overloaded nervous system.

As the door swings open, Nicholas leans in close, his lips nearly brushing my ear.

“Don’t worry, O’Connell. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Then he steps out into the evening air, immediately resuming his royal composure as if nothing unusual has happened. As if we haven’t just spent five minutes pressed against each other in a plastic box. As if he didn’t feel exactly what he does to me.

Grand. The second in line to the throne is now my confidant about inappropriate erections. This’ll make a grand addition to my performance review:Officer O’Connell maintains excellent threat assessment, minor issue with maintaining professional boundaries in portable toilets.

I follow him out, my professional mask firmly in place despite the chaos raging inside me.

One thought hammers through my mind, drowning out everything else.

I am absolutely, monumentally fucked.

Chapter Fifteen

Nicholas

Dawn at Ulu?u feels rather like watching the world wake up for the first time. The silence wraps around us. Even from the platform a kilometer away, we can watch the sandstone monolith absorb the first rays of sunlight, glowing in progressively more intense shades of crimson and ochre as the minutes pass.

I’ve seen countless sunrises around the world. Champagne in hand on Monaco yachts, through hazy eyes in Ibiza beach clubs, from palatial balconies. But this feels different.

Older.

I can’t resist glancing at O’Connell to see his reaction.

But his face looks like it’s been carved from the same ancient rock we’re observing. Jaw set, eyes constantly scanning the horizon rather than appreciating the experience. The rising sun catches in his auburn hair, giving it a burnished copper quality that makes my fingers itch with a sudden, inexplicable urge to touch it.

When our eyes meet, he looks away so quickly it’s almost comical.

And that’s been the theme since yesterday.

He hasn’t looked me in the eye since the incident in the portable toilet. Not properly, anyway. Every time our gazes meet, his slides away like water off waxed paper.

It’s been only half a day since I felt the unmistakable evidence of his attraction pressed against me in that confined space. Half a day of him pretending nothing happened while I’ve become increasingly, irritatingly fixated on the memory. Half a day with my mind replaying everything that happened like some sort of royal porn film titled:Tight Spaces: The Prince and The Protector.