The Runaway Princess by Hester Browne Read Free Book Online Page A

out of sight.
    I gave him a goofy double thumbs-up, then wished I hadn’t. “Be careful coming down.”
    “I know. That’s the hard part.”
    He stuffed the pot into his trouser pocket, and I watched him climb down in a series of confident moves. He had obviously climbed before—I could tell by the effortless way he transferred his weight from hand to foot down the scaffolding, keeping himself balanced until he reached the fire escape.
    At the bottom, he jumped down from the fire escape and handed me the plant pot with a flourish.
    “Thank you,” I said. It sounded inadequate, but it was all I had.
    “Happy to be of service.” Leo smiled, the moonlight shading the chiseled contours of his face, and again I had that weird feeling that we’d met before. I felt like I
knew
him.
    Jo was always telling me how readable my face was. I hoped it was now saying something meaningful and intelligent, but I had the sinking feeling I just looked like the pantomime horse I hadn’t come as. Big-eyed and moony.
    “By the way, I like your costume.” Leo took a step back to admire the bits of silk pajama visible beneath the quilted parka I’d pulled on to come outside. “Don’t tell me—your idea of heaven is … staying in bed all day?”
    “Yes!” I felt stupidly pleased that he’d got it. “Well, no, to be honest, my idea of heaven is a really long bath, so I suggested covering myself in Bubble Wrap, you know, for bubbles? And then when I ran out of conversation, I could just invite people to pop me. Jo wouldn’t let me.”
    “You might attract the wrong sort of poppers,” he said, his eyes serious, although the corner of his mouth twitched.
    “That’s what she said. But everyone likes popping Bubble Wrap. Saves having to make chitchat about villa holidays.”
    “You’re not a fan?”
    “I’ve never been on one.”
    “They’re overrated.” Leo nodded. “No one ever washes up, and there’s always an ‘incident’ with the pool. Give me Bubble Wrap any day.”
    I grinned, savoring the intimacy of his tone, and also the outline of his shoulder muscles through the white shirt.
    “For the record,” he added, “both the long bath and the long lie-in are my idea of heaven too. But to be honest, fancy dress parties are hell. Well, any party where you have to explain your outfit is hell, but fancy dress parties more so.”
    “I couldn’t agree more.”
    The night air was sharp, tinted with distant Saturday-night shouting and the faint waft of steak and smoke and the gray London smell I could never pin down. We stood in the yellowy streetlight, me clutching the one surviving Dream Seedling, and when Leo shivered under his open-necked shirt I remembered I was still holding his jacket.
    “Sorry, you must be freezing,” I said, embarrassed. “Here you go.”
    The jacket started vibrating as I passed it over. He pulled his phone from the pocket and checked it as he slipped the jacket back on, then pulled an expression of what seemed like real regret.
    “Sorry, I’ve got to make a move. Rolf’s crashed another party.”
    “So long as that’s all he’s crashed,” I said. “Wasn’t he in your car?”
    “Don’t remind me.” He nodded at the plant. “Anyway, good luck nursing that back to health after its adventure. Sorry there was only one.”
    “No, thank
you
. I’m the plant doctor. I’ll just have to get someone to fly more seeds out in the next twenty-four hours.”
    Leo grinned, and there was a pause where I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to make more witty conversation (unlikely) or kiss him good-bye (but how many times? which cheek first?), or shake his hand, or what.
    The moment was stretching out and I was going into one of my silence-filling panics when he touched my arm lightly, leaned forward, and pressed his warm lips against my cheekbone.
    No man that handsome, that charming, or that fragrant had ever been so close to me, and if I could have freeze-framed it, I would have.
    “Will