Dr. Tiegel opened a small door to the left and led them down a hallway. "These are the labs; most of us work here on various projects as our schedules allow. In fact, some of us sleep here if there's an experiment we don't want to leave."
"Do you do that in addition to taking care of the animals?"
"We really don't need to spend much hands-on time with the animals; most of the feeding and such is handled by volunteers. One of the many purposes of the NDISL is research. For every one thing we know, there are hundreds of thousands of things—more likely millions—we don't know. Of course we have several on-staff biologists and veterinarians to keep an eye on the animals."
"How often do—"
Suddenly, one of the doors was yanked open—Alex had time to notice the stark black lettering (Dr. Sheldon Rivers, Director, Global Marine Programs) before someone (presumably Dr. Rivers) was standing in the doorway.
"Do you have to do this shit here?" he snapped, oblivious to the three guns trained on him. "You've got the whole damn place—twelve thousand square feet!—and you have to have your meeting right outside my door?"
"Shel," Dr. Tiegel began.
"I'm pretty sure I told you about the experiments I can't leave this morning."
"Yes, Shel, but—"
"I mean, I have this memory of standing in your office and explaining why I couldn't play lapdog to her Royal Annoyingness, right?"
Dr. Tiegel winced and Jenny, who had been signaling the security team to put their guns away, suddenly stopped and looked as though she wished she had a gun of her own.
As for Alex, she was having trouble looking away from the furious, infuriating Dr. Rivers. He was so tall and broad he filled the doorway, his cocoa-colored eyes were glaring at them from behind wire-rim frames, his lashes so long they nearly touched the glass. His long legs were showcased in shockingly tattered blue jeans and gaped at the waist; they were about two sizes too large. He was wearing a faded yellow T-shirt with the logo "Marine Biologists Get Wet." No lab coat. His hair, light brown with sun-streaked highlights, stood up from his skull as if he'd been running his fingers through it. His lips were almost too thin, set in a scowl that made his mouth disappear, and his eyes were creased with what might have been laugh lines, but were probably frown lines.
"Now get lost," he said, and shut the door.
On Alex's foot.
Chapter 7
Shel Rivers looked down at the small foot wedged in his doorway, then up at the ridiculously good-looking woman attached to said foot. She didn't look mad or pissed or haughty. Just had a patient look on her face, like "you're gonna get this thing off my foot, right?" Finally, he said, "That's a good way to break something," after a moment that felt longer than it was.
"Not before you get shot," she replied, and shouldered her way past him. A good trick, since he had, at best estimation, four inches and thirty pounds on her. He got a whiff of eucalyptus as she brushed by, and he almost reached out to see if her black, shoulder-length hair was as silky as it looked. "Dr. Rivers and I will be right out," she added, and closed the door on the protests of everyone else in the party.
The princess (princess! in his lab!) looked around the small, cluttered room for a moment, her small hands on shapely hips. Then she glanced back at him. He actually forgot to breathe when those crystal blue eyes fixed on his.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced," she said pleasantly.
"And I don't think your security team is going to like this at all."
"I'm Alexandria Baranov—"
"I know."
"I'm talking now, please. And you're Dr. Rivers. You're also rude and annoying, which is fine, butnobody slams a door on me."
"Especially when your family built half the aquarium," he snapped, trying not to look at her breasts.
"Irrelevant. I wouldn't tolerate that behavior ifyou were fundingmy work. What a disaster area," she continued, turning in a circle to take in the whole room. "How do you find anything in here?"
"None of your business."
"I think we could find some paperwork to prove that isn't true. What's so important? What are you working on?"
"Is playing twenty questions part of the tour?"
"No, it's part of being relatively pleasant. And why did you dodge the tour? You don't even know me."
Because she was rich. Because he was busy. Because she was a princess and he was a lowly Army brat. Because she was too beautiful. Because she was trouble with a capital T, and he'd had enough of that to last five lifetimes.
She was waving a hand in front of his eyes. "Dr. Rivers? Hellooooo? Is anyone in there? Is it lunchtime already?"
He jerked his head back and gave her a good glare. "I've got more important things to do than play tour guide for a stuck-up VIP."
He was sure she'd get pissed, but instead, those amazing blue eyes crinkled at the corners and she grinned. "I bet you don't," she said, and turned to reach for the door handle.
"Okay, okay," he said, grasping her elbow. She took his wrist and pulled it away, almost absently, and in the bottom of his brain a small red flag popped up. "I'll give you the damned tour. But no annoying questions."
"You're a fine one to talk about annoying," she retorted.
"And no potty breaks."
"I went on the plane."
"And I'm not going to be doing this all day, either."
"You can't," she pointed out. "I'm having lunch with Dr. Tomlin in three hours."
"Another rich fat cat," he muttered.
"Did you just call me fat?"
"Hardly. In fact, when was the last time you had a meal?" She was gorgeous—she more than lived up to her moniker as one of the most beautiful women in the world—but too skinny. The planes in her face made her blue eyes seem enormous. "Or even a milkshake?"
"I don't know," she said absently. "It's probably on the schedule somewhere."
Another red flag popped, and he was so intrigued he almost forgot about his experiments. "Well, there's a snack bar on the second floor. Maybe we can grab some fries or something. Although, once you have to watch Dr. Tomlin eat, you're gonna lose your appetite. Assuming you ever had one."
"That's all right, Dr. Rivers."
"Shel."
"Shel. You don't have to worry. I'm not even hungry. And I'm Alex, by the way."
He shook her small, cool hand. His wrist was almost twice the width of hers. Definitely needed a few milkshakes, among other tilings.
"It's nice to meet you, Alex."
"What a lie, Dr. Rivers."
He smiled in spite of himself.
Chapter 8
The Sitka Palace
Juneau, Alaska
"So, how's she doing?" the king asked, glancing up from the bill he was reading.
Edmund handed him two reams of paperwork. "Fine, Your Majesty. They landed without incident; she's at the facility right now."
"When's she due back?"
"Nineteen days, Sire."
"Nineteen days? How long's it take to look at a bunch of fish?"
"Your Majesty—"
"I mean, I know we talked about her meeting up with all the hinders and—and whatever the hell else she's doing out there, but nineteen friggin' days?"
"She'll be fine, Sire."
The king glowered, blue eyes—eyes he'd passed on to all his children—narrowing. "I'm pretty sure I didn't agree to the kid disappearing into the wilds of North Dakota for almost three weeks. I agreed to a quick trip. I agreed things couldn't go on the way they were. I agreed the shrink wasn't helping. I did not agree to the kid disappearing for practically a damn month."
"Sire, you agreed she was ready for a change."
"I smell you and Jenny all over this one, buddy boy, don't think I don't."
"Yes, Sire."
"I would have remembered a nineteen-day itinerary. I'm not that fucking senile."
"Don't underestimate yourself, Sire."
"Knock it off, Edmund. A quick trip to this aquarium place,that's what we talked about."
"Yes, Sire."
"The kid's only twenty-three, she's never been away from home for more than—than—what?"
"Fifteen days. And Her Highness is twenty-five."
"Oh, sure, throw that in my face, you scheming son of a bitch."
"Sire, it was bad enough when you arranged for the professors to come to the palace so she could earn her degree without ever moving out. Nineteen days, at her age, is nothing. She'll be fine, Sire."
The king drummed his blunt fingers on the desk. "It's just that she's had a tough year."
"Yes, Sire."
"You know, she's not sleeping, she's not eating—we gotta keep an eye on her."
"Yes, Sire."
"I know she looks tough, but she's fragile."
"Like a precious baby duck, Sire."
The king's frown deepened. "What are you up to, Edmund?"
"Not a tiny thing, Sire."
"Just because you're six times smarter than me doesn't mean I can't kick your ass."
"I'm well aware, Sire."
"Okay, I won't jump a plane to bring her back—"
"You can't, Sire, you have a meeting with the Tourism Commission in thirty minutes."
"—but I want updates on what she's doing at least twice a day."
"Creepy, Sire."
"Oh, you know what I mean. Just keep me informed. You know, pretend like I'm your boss or something and you have to do what I say or you're breaking the law."
"Jenny will keep us updated, Sire, and Her Highness will do as she pleases."
