The Playboy Prince's Baby - Ana Sparks Page 0,25
My friends knew not to call me at this time of day, when I was in the midst of trying to sleep for the coming night, and I hadn’t talked to my parents in a year, so it couldn’t be them.
So who the hell was calling me right now?
I glanced at the caller ID and frowned when I saw the plus sign in front of the number that meant this was an international call. I never got international calls.
And as far as I was concerned, that could really only mean one thing. This was one of those telemarketer calls from Siberia or somewhere like that, where they were going to try to sell me solar panels. Maybe convince me that my social security number had been hacked. Or that the FBI was after me.
I almost never answered these calls.
But.
Well, honestly, I didn’t know why I answered it. But for some reason, I did.
I also went in expecting it to be a scam.
“Hello?” I said, using the fakest accent I could make up on the spot.
There was a pregnant pause on the other end, and it lasted long enough that I actually repeated the faux-accented greeting.
“Helloooooooooo?”
Okay, now I was trying not to laugh. And I was sort of glad I’d answered the phone. This was already cheering me up after my day of not sleeping well.
Then someone answered me.
“Is this Erika Saunders?”
“Yep, that’s my name,” I said, still using the fake accent.
“This is… Erika?”
Wait, I thought, frowning. I knew that voice. I knew that gravelly, rough tone.
I knew the way that person’s accent softened the ‘k’ in my name.
“Francisco?” I breathed.
“Erika!” he said, overjoyed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice at first!”
“Probably because I was using a fake accent,” I admitted, grinning widely at hearing his voice on the other end of the line—and immediately forgiving the fact that he’d been out of touch for an entire week.
“Of course you were,” he said smoothly. “I’m sorry, I should have expected that.”
And I did laugh then, just because that was such a Francisco response—and so like the responses he’d been giving me for the entire weekend of our adventure together. Just jumping right into whatever fantasy I’d cooked up at the time, and acting like it was completely normal.
Seamless. That was how we’d been together. And now that he was actually on the phone, making the same sort of jumps with me, that feeling was even stronger.
“Where are you, and what the hell happened?” I asked. “I haven’t heard from you in a week. I thought you might have been lost in the mail or something.”
“Does your mail service lose people often?”
I shook my head at that jump. “We don’t normally use the mail to transport people, believe it or not,” I said. “It was a joke. But the question stands. Where are you? What’s happened?”
At that, he launched into his story, going so quickly through a number of details that it took me several lines before I felt like I could actually keep up with him. God, I had forgotten how fast he talked when he was passionate—or upset—about something.
But what he said… Well, it was no wonder I hadn’t heard from him in a week. Evidently, he’d been deported back home, courtesy of the State Department—and his brother’s international warrant—and had been delivered back to said brother in Orlo, which was the capital of Tarana.
Once he was back in Orlo, Francisco had told his own State Department to find a way to smooth things over with their American counterpart. He’d wanted to come back to the States, he’d told the guy, and specifically Chicago.
“So you were going to come back,” I said, sort of ridiculously thrilled at this bit of news.
Not that I’d been doubting him. But when you meet a guy in a bar, spend the weekend with him, and then find out that he’s a prince and watch him get arrested, you do tend to have some doubts. That’s just human nature.
“Of course I was,” he answered, sounding like he was actually shocked to have been questioned on that point. “I told you I would. And I never go back on my word.”
I refrained from saying that the press hadn’t exactly portrayed him as someone who was that loyal to his word. Partially because of the way it made me feel to think that he’d been coming back for me. I liked the idea that he was the sort of guy who made a promise and then