Christmas With Her Secret Prince. Nina Singh

have been so concerned.

      She tried to imagine Eric going out of his way in such a fashion under similar circumstances. Simply to help a stranger. She couldn’t picture it. No, Ray didn’t seem at all like her ex. In fact, he was unlike any other man she’d ever met. And his looks! The man was heart-stoppingly handsome. She still didn’t know where he was from, but based on his dark coloring and regal features, she would guess somewhere in the Mediterranean. Southern Italy perhaps. Maybe Greece. Or even somewhere in the Middle East.

      Mel sighed again and snuggled deeper into her pillow. What did any of her speculation matter in the overall scheme of things? Men like Ray weren’t the type a divorced waitress could count among her acquaintances. He would be nothing more than a flash of brightness that passed through her life for a brief moment in time. By this time next week, no doubt, he wouldn’t give the likes of Melinda Osmon more than a lingering thought.

      “So did she even find a dress?”

      “I guess so. She says she lost the shopping bag ’cause of the accident, though.”

      “So no dress. I guess she definitely isn’t going to the ball, then.”

      “Nope. Not without a dress. And not with that crazy shiner where her eye is.”

      What was it about this dress everyone kept talking about? Ray stirred and slowly opened his eyes. To his surprise it was morning already. He’d slept surprisingly well on the lumpy velvet-covered couch the sisters had offered him last night. Said sisters were currently talking much too loudly in the kitchen, which was off to the side of the apartment. Clearly, they didn’t entertain overnight guests often.

      His thoughts immediately shifted to Mel. How was she feeling? He’d slept more soundly than he’d expected to. What if she’d needed something in the middle of the night? He swiftly strode to the kitchen. “Has anyone checked on Mel yet?”

      Both ladies halted midspeech to give him curious looks. “Well, good morning to you, too,” Greta said with just a touch of grouchiness in her voice. Or maybe that was Frannie. In matching terry robes and thick glasses perched on the ends of their noses, they looked remarkably similar.

      “I apologize. I just wondered about our patient.”

      The two women raised their eyebrows at him. “She’s our patient now, huh?” one of the women asked.

      Luckily, the other one spoke before Ray could summon an answer to that question. “She’s sleeping soundly. I sneaked a peek at her as soon as I woke up. Breathing nice and even. Even has some color back in her face. Well, real color. Aside from the nasty purple bruise.”

      Ray felt the tension he wasn’t aware he held slowly leave his chest and shoulders. One of the women pulled a chair out for him as another handed him a steaming cup of coffee. Both actions were done with a no-nonsense efficiency. Ray gratefully took the steaming cup and sat down.

      The small flat was a far cry from the majestic expanse of the castle he called home, but the sheer homeliness and coziness of the setting served to put him in a comfortable state of ease, one that took him a bit by surprise. He spent most of his life in a harried state of rushing from one activity or responsibility to another. To be able to simply sit and enjoy a cup of coffee in a quaint New England kitchen was a novel experience. One he was enjoying more than he would have guessed.

      “Damn shame about the dress,” Greta or Frannie commented as she sat down across him, the other lady joining them a moment later after refreshing her mug. He really needed one of them to somehow identify herself or he was bound to make an embarrassing slip before the morning was over about who was who.

      “Can someone tell me what the deal is with this dress?” he asked.

      “Mel was coming back from shopping when you and your friend knocked her on her keister,” the sister right next to him answered.

      “Frannie!” the other one exclaimed. Thank goodness. Now he just had to keep straight which was which once they stood. “That’s no way to talk to our guest,” she added.

      Ray took a sip of his coffee, the guilt washing over him once more. Though technically they hadn’t been the ones to actually run into Mel—the cyclist had done that—he couldn’t help but feel that if Saleh had been paying better attention, Mel wouldn’t be in the state she was in currently.

      “She lost the shopping bag in all the confusion,” Frannie supplied.

      “I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Ray answered. “It must have been some dress. I’ll have to find a way to compensate for Mel’s losing it.”

      “It’s more what she needed it for.”

      Ray found himself oddly curious. When was the last time he cared about why a woman needed an article of clothing? Never. The answer to that question was a resounding never.

      “What did she need it for?”

      “To stick it to that scoundrel husband of hers.”

      Ray found himself on the verge of sputtering out the coffee he’d just taken a sip of. Husband. Mel was married. It really wasn’t any of his business. So why did he feel like someone had just landed a punch in the middle of his gut? He’d met the woman less than twelve hours ago for heaven’s sake. Had barely spoken more than a few words to her.

      “He’s her ex-husband,” Greta clarified. “But my sister’s right about the scoundrel part.”

      “Oh?” Ray inquired. For the second time already this morning, he felt like a solid weight had been lifted off his shoulders. So she wasn’t actually married currently. He cursed internally as he thought it. What bit of difference did it make where he was concerned?

      “Yeah, he took all her money, then left her for some flirty flirt of a girl who works for him.”

      That did sound quite scoundrel-like. A pang of sympathy blossomed in his chest. No woman deserved that. What little he knew of Mel, she seemed like she wouldn’t hurt another being if her life depended on it. She certainly didn’t deserve such treatment.

      “Before they got divorced, Mel and her ex were always invited to the mayor’s annual charity holiday ball. The mayor’s daughter is a college friend of both of theirs. This year that no-good ex of Mel’s is taking his new lady. Word is, he proposed to her and they’ll be attending as doctor and fiancée.”

      Frannie nodded as her sister spoke. “Yeah, we were trying to convince her to go anyway. ’Cause why should he have the satisfaction? But she had nothing to wear. We gave her an advance on her paycheck and told her to find the nicest dress she could afford.”

      Ray sat silent, taking all this in. Several points piqued his interest, not the least of which being just how much these ladies seemed to care for the young lady who worked for them. Mel was clearly more than a mere employee. She was family and so they were beyond outraged on her behalf.

      The other thing was that she’d been trying to tell him right there on the sidewalk about how important the dress was, and he hadn’t bothered to listen. He had just assumed that she’d hit her head and didn’t know what she was talking about. He felt guilt wash over him anew.

      “I still wish there was a way she could go.” Greta shook her head with regret. “That awful man needs to know she don’t give a damn about him and that she’s still going to attend these events. With or without him.”

      A heavy silence settled over the room before Frannie broke it with a clap of her hands. “You know, I got a great idea,” she declared to her sister with no small display of excitement.

      “What’s that?”

      “I know she don’t have anything to wear, but if she can figure that out, I think Ray here should take her.” She flashed a brilliant smile in his direction.

      Greta gasped in agreement, nodding vehemently. “Ooh, excellent idea. Why, he’d make for the perfect date!”

      Frannie turned